Page 47 of The Beauty and the Griffin

His gloved hands gripped the top of the shelves, his head bowed, and suppressed wrath radiated from him. Oddly enough, I could see him clearly in the low firelight—broadcloth stretched over powerful shoulders, a messy mane of hair, the braced stance of his long legs. Yet magic blurred him around the edges. Was he human or not?

“If I’d only known . . .” he growled. “Beatrice, you could have been . . .” He huffed in frustration and . . . fear? “Never, ever turn your back on that girl.”

For a moment, I doubted this could really be my Gamekeeper, who was unruffled, gentle, and always in control. But it was him, just a side of him I hadn’t seen until . . . well, until I refused his proposal.

“I won’t turn my back on her,” I assured him.

“Where is your egg now?” When he turned to face me, something like fog obscured him again.

“On my bed. She seemed quiet and sleepy.”

“When you arrived, she told me how hard she’d worked to guide you here, but I had no idea . . .”

“She spoke to you?”

“Yes.” He sounded more like himself. “She told me that she’s claimed you as her mother. It is truly a great honor, Beatrice. The Golden Griffin is a creature of legend!”

Baby Chicky, a creature of legends? My brain struggled to wrap around that concept. “To me, she’s a motherless baby who needs love and care.”

“Which is why she chose you as her protector.”

“I feel responsible for Win, too,” I admitted. “I know better than to trust her, but she can’t be older than fourteen. The poor kid was basically kidnapped by griffins and held captive for months. I can’t even imagine!”

“I know Vlad and Mirka,” he said in that calm, gruff voice I loved. “They’ve raised many clutches of eggs in their nest on the border of my lands.”

While I shuddered again at the memory of that cliffside cave, he seemed to mull over a problem. “Griffins are intensely private creatures. They possess magic of a sort, but I’ve never heard of an egg telepathically communicating with a human.”

“And what about Winifred?” I reminded him. “I don’t understand why she would try to trap me in the caves. I could have died there in the darkness!”

His reply was gruff: “Have you asked her why?”

“Not directly. At least, I don’t think so. If I did ask, she didn’t answer me. What should I do?”

After a pause, he said, “What do you think you should do?”

Ugh. I was too tired to think, but I did my best. “I guess I need to work on earning Win’s trust and stop reacting to her insults. Do you think I should give back the gold egg?”

“Definitely not. It . . .” He paused and corrected himself. “She, the griflet, is extraordinarily precocious, and I believe she has formed an emotional bond with you through touch and thought. Separation from you now would cause her great emotional and psychological harm. Sheneedsyou.”

“Oh!” When maternal warmth washed through me, along with an awareness of my egg’s exact location in the castle, I knew he’d correctly judged the situation. “I . . . I think I need her too.” Then I remembered her gentle brother. “What about the silver egg?”

“Have you touched its shell?”

“Yes. He’s very sweet. Win has been touching his shell too, and he seems content with her.”

“Good. Both griffins are likely to hatch in the next few days, so you would be wise to sleep while you still can. Morning will be soon enough to make further plans. I hope you are comfortable and feel safe in your guest room.”

I huffed a little laugh. “Now that I know you’re here, I will sleep well. Winifred is another story.”

“Ah. Winifred senses the Beast of her own nightmares.” I heard a note of sorrow in that deep voice. “Your trust in me is a precious gift which I shall always strive to deserve.”

I shook my head. “You and I have been friends for years now, and I know you’re a kind and humble person.” Just when I needed to keep it together and prove my loyalty as his friend, Iwouldget all choked up and sentimental.

But when he spoke again, a chill ran down my spine. “Ah, but I was once proud and devious, heeding only my personal desires and ambitions.”

Even as I shivered, I disliked hearing his self-disparagement. “You’ve only ever been encouraging and kind to me. And patient and wise! The best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Beatrice, I love you dearly.” Velvety warmth blended with something like a growl. “Will you marry me?”

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