Page 56 of The Beauty and the Griffin

For an unguarded instant there, I’d looked into his eyes.

But I recalled only the warmth in his gaze. Maybe later I would remember more, but just then I needed to help Chicky eat her first meal. “Do griffins need a litterbox or papers on the floor, like in a birdcage?” I asked.

“A litterbox is right over there, ready whenever she needs it.” He tipped his head.

Sure enough, to one side of the entry doors, someone had set up a bin filled with sand or litter or something. I couldn’t tell from a distance.

Chicky began her first meal with live crickets, pecking them out of a bowl. Next, my griflet figured out how to arrange strips of venison in her beak for easy swallowing. Then, the freshly dead mice, rats, lizards, gophers, moles, and a small snake went down her throat, headfirst. The insects hadn’t bothered me when I fed Dodger, but . . . a snake?

I had to mentally disengage from reality.

“So,” I began, struggling to frame my question delicately, “when Chicky swallows, does her food go into a crop or a stomach?

I heard the smile in my companion’s voice. “Unlike a lion cub, she doesn’t have any teeth, and she couldn’t possibly nurse from her mother, so I would guess her stomach is more of a crop. Her head is much larger than an eagle’s or hawk’s—large enough to hold her intelligent brain and her incredibly sharp eyes. Of course, she is quite impossible without magic.”

I wanted to ask ifhewas possible without magic but couldn’t come up with a way to phrase it that wouldn’t sound incredibly rude.

When Chicky was finally full, she began preening and stretching her limbs and wings. Stiff from sitting so long on the floor, I stretched while she did. Around that time, I realized someone had placed chairs and a loveseat near the hatching boxes. “Thank you from the depths of my heart, thoughtful person, whoever you are.” With a groan of pleasure, I flopped into a chair. Moments later, Chicky climbed into my lap, curled up in my arms, all fluffy, prickly, and warm, and fell asleep.

But I desperately needed to get up and move.

As if he’d read my mind, the Gamekeeper said, “She’ll sleep for hours now. I’ll keep watch over her, and Dodger too, once Win brings him back. The palace staff is on top of things. Go ahead and get some rest.”

I knew it was winter and the days must be short, but when I glanced at the nearest window, I could hardly believe it was twilight already. On the other hand, it felt as if I’d been in that room forever. Hadn’t Auntie Bella said something about time working differently here? “I suppose she’ll call me if she needs me in the night,” I mumbled after settling my sleeping griflet into her sweet-smelling bed of fresh hay.

The palace staff must have been working like crazy all around me, and I’d never noticed a thing. I wasn’t hungry after snacking on fruit and meat pies and other treats all day. What I really wanted was a warm bed. “Talk about prepared for anything—you’re the best staff ever,” I addressed the apparently empty space around me. “Thank you.”

I turned to the Gamekeeper. “You must be tired too.”

“I’m fine.”

His voice was wild and deep, yet I felt peace and a sense of . . . rightness. “Chicky is asleep. Do you think she’ll be okay? I mean, without her real mother?”

“I believe that you offer her the ideal blend of authority and love, and Chicky has fully imprinted on you.”

“She likes you too. I mean, you mostly fed her today.”

“But you’ve been her mother for several days now, and she won’t forget.”

I rubbed both hands down my face. “I’m exhausted, but I don’t want her to grow up too quickly.”

“She’ll be ready to leave the ‘nest’ in about ten days.”

“So soon!” I exclaimed, then sighed with genuine regret and stooped over my griflet’s nesting box. One of her paws twitched, and her beak opened and closed twice. “How do they learn to fly?”

“It’s mostly instinctive, but if they need help with flying, they’ll receive it. If you encourage and praise her, she will learn new things, both to please you and to keep up with or surpass her brother. Their competition will be beneficial if you can keep them from fighting.”

“Sounds like some human siblings I’ve known.” I strolled over to the piano and straightened the sheet music.

After a companionable silence, he said, “I never had a sibling.”

“Neither did I. Were you lonely?”

“Not really. I had a cousin who was like a big sister, or maybe more of a second mom. She was the only person powerful enough to keep me in line.”

“Powerful?” I closed the piano’s keylid. I was puttering, tidying things that didn’t need tidying. I really needed to go.

“Magically powerful. My parents had no magic.”

---