Page 29 of The Beauty and the Griffin

I looked her over. Skinny, shabby, and sarcastic. “Do you have any food?” I asked. “Warm clothes?”

Her brows lowered. “I told you, Mirka will be back any time now.”

I spoke with greater certainty. “My orders are to escort the eggs to the Forbidden Palace.” The room brightened yet again at the word “eggs.” Something buried in the straw emitted that light.

Most likely the eggs. But when I moved toward the niche, the girl flung herself into my way. “Leave ’em alone! Vlad’ll kill you if you touch ’em. He’ll kill me too.”

I used my best calming voice, edging it with authority. “We must deliver these eggs to the Forbidden Palace. Now.”

She scowled. “Do you have any idea how long it’d take to hike that far? In the dark? With nothing to eat?”

I could do without the snark, but she’d just confirmed my hope that the Forbidden Palace was within walking distance. “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll be there.” As my hand reached toward the dusty straw, the glow began to shimmer.

“Stop! Stop it! Leave them alone!” She tried to wrestle me aside, but my patience was gone. I gripped her wrists and dodged a vicious kick. “What’s your name?” I demanded while holding her at arms’ length. She attempted another kick, so I twisted one of her arms behind her back, bending her over and off balance. She was a strong kid, but I was at least as strong and much taller.

Those self-defense classes at boarding school finally came in handy.

Wilting, the girl stared at the floor. “Win.”

I needed a moment to process. “That’s your name? Win?”

Icy silence.

“Short for Winifred?” I guessed.

She made a half-hearted effort to escape. “If you ever call me Winnie, I’ll kill you.” Her oblique glare might have melted diamonds, but after years of dealing with Eddi, I was impervious.

“I’m Beatrice, and I’m pleased to meet you, believe it or not. Help me pack up the eggs. We need to get moving.”

When I released her, she stalked over to kneel beside the rubbish pile, pulled out what looked like a glowing bundle of rags, and gently set it on the floor. “First thing you need to know: absolutelynevertouch the eggshells with your hands.”

I decided to go there: “What’ll happen if I do?”

With the egg-light shining on her face from below, she leveled a baleful stare at me. “Vlad and Mirka willeat you alive.”

“That dramatic lighting earns you extra points,” I commented, “but I eat melodrama for lunch. And if you’re not careful, your face might stick that way.”

After extracting a second glowing bundle, she sat back on her heels, crossed her arms, and stared at my boots. Her own feet wore battered walking shoes.

One musty bundle shimmered like moonlight, and the other spread a warm glow. They were much larger than I’d expected.

“I’ll carry them in my sling,” Win stated.

“No need. I’ll carry them in my backpack.” I unzipped it.

Win shot to her feet and straddled the eggs, fists clenched. “You can’t carry them! I’m their nanny.”

I wanted to laugh but schooled my expression just in time. “Interesting. I’m a nanny too. Exactly what does being a nanny to eggs entail?”

She didn’t back down. “I tend them while Vlad and Mirka hunt for food or . . . or do whatever griffins do.”

“How long have you been living here?” I waved vaguely at our surroundings.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I hiked into the mountains to ask for a summer job at Faraway Castle Resort, but Vlad snatched me off the road and brought me here.”

Ifher story were true, she’d been living in the dark, dank cave for at least six months. Poor kid. “As a slave?”

Win gave a noncommittal grunt, then added, “I’ll get paid with a sack of gold and jewels once the hatchlings are on their own.”

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