Page 50 of The Beauty and the Griffin

“Believe me, it is their intense pleasure—and mine—to serve you. They will provide food in the hatching room for us as well as the griflets.”

I followed him into the hallway. “Is it safe to move Win’s egg while it’s hatching?”

“Yes. He will rest between bursts of pecking at the shell with his egg tooth. Chicky is building up energy for her own hatching, which will begin soon.”

I considered this information, then pushed for more. “So, do you know what’s going on at Faraway Castle right now?”

“I am confident our allies will prevail.”

“I can’t help feeling guilty about being here in comfort while my aunt, my friends, and many other good people of all kinds are possibly in danger. I know there’s nothing I can do about it except pray, and I’ve been doing plenty of that.” I gave an embarrassed little shrug.

“The best thing you can do.”

The depth of gratitude in his voice startled me so much that I tried to cover the reaction by blurting, “Uh, where is this music room?”

“Ahead.” His shadowy arm indicated. Where the hall ended in a T, I glimpsed a set of double doors with a fresco of dancing sprites, musical notes, and instruments across their panels. “How beautiful!”

“You’ve frequently mentioned your love of music.”

We were virtual strangers, yet he knew me so well. In a burst of affection, I gripped his arm again. Forgetting all else, including hatching griffins, I approached those doors beside him, aware of his surprise and pleasure.

When the music room’s doors swung open for us, my eyes immediately went to the grand piano on a small stage against the far wall. Occupying much of the wall to my right was a magnificent pipe organ with many stops, three rows of keys, and several octaves of foot pedals. Other instruments abounded on every side: string, woodwind, percussion, and brass. They were all beautiful, but it was the piano that drew me. Its huge lid was propped up, and the keylid was open. Even better, a nearby table supported a hefty stack of sheet music.

“It’s so beautiful!” The words left my lips on a sigh. I was no great pianist or singer, but I enjoyed music . . . and the Gamekeeper remembered my obsession. “I haven’t played much since my last visit to Faraway Castle . . . but this isn’t the time, I know.”

“We will make time soon,” that deep voice promised, and my heart felt lighter than air.

A trio of lamps focused like spotlights on two large crates surrounded by armchairs and a settee. Curious, I peered into one crate to find a bed of sweet-smelling hay lined with blankets.

“Will this do?” asked the Gamekeeper.

“It’s perfect! I’d better bring Chicky right away so she can get used to her hatching box.”

“Good,” he approved.

As I approached the door to my room, I heard Win stirring next door. I was tempted to ignore her, grab Chicky, and hurry back, but responsibility called.

“Come in,” she answered my knock at her door. When I stepped inside, she was hovering over her egg, The window curtains were open, and her loose damp hair gleamed like silver in the morning light, wavy and utterly beautiful.

Without turning, she said, “I don’t need you here.”

I approached anyway. “How’s he doing?”

“Still asleep.”

“Listen! The palace staff has set up a birthing station for us in the music room down the hall. You’re welcome to join—”

She huffed a mocking laugh. “Dodger doesn’t need music. Just bring me some food and go away.”

“Win, we should do this together. There’s a lot we don’t know about griffins. The Gamekeeper says we must not try to help them hatch.”

“Duh. Anyone who’s raised chickens knows that much.”

She was probably right, but her attitude . . .

“The staff has set up two warm hatching boxes.”

“Oh, goody.”

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