In the middle of the stream stood Domina Opal, her riding pants rolled up to reveal pale, slim legs. She held an arrow in her hand as if it were a spear, entirely absorbed in her task. Her horse was off drinking in the distance. In a flash of movement, she jabbed the arrow down and came up with a speared, wriggling fish. When she caught sight of Belisarius, she quickly replaced her sheepish grin with a straightening of her spine.
One of the younger bride candidates, beloved on the islands, Belisarius had taken care not to cause her offense. The culture of the Opal Province allowed their women unprecedented freedoms compared to the women of the continent. Noblewomen of his court often called them wild, immoral and hopelessly masculine. Perhaps, if she won the competition, he would have the chance to ask her about it while gently prying into her father’s loyalties.
“Your Royal Highness, I apologize for appearing before you in such a state.”
“I take no offence, Domina. In fact, I’m impressed by your skill. Perhaps I’ll have the honour of your company tonight?”
With a cheeky smile, the domina placed her hands on her narrow hips.
“I should think so. I’ve managed to kill two coyotes this afternoon.”
Belisarius nodded at her triumph. Two coyotes was a noteworthy kill for a domina. Perhaps he might find an ideal bride during this deception after all.
“Impressive. Would you do me the honour of accompanying me back to the palace, Domina?”
She blinked in surprise, the opalescence of her eyes making them appear even larger in her heart-shaped face.
“I would be delighted, Your Royal Highness. Please, call me Charis.”
“Then, Charis-”
A crashing roar echoed out of the woods on the far side of the brook. The domina’s horse pricked its ears, sniffed the air and bolted. Belisarius had to fight an equally unsettled response in his own steed. Whatever it was on the other side, his horse was spooked.
“Domina, grab my hand. We must leave!”
Her barefoot pace was slow on the slippery rocks along the shore. She grabbed his hand just as a bear, twice as large as any he’d seen, crashed out of the forest. Belisarius helped her swing up onto his horse as the bear rushed at them. They made it as far as the bushes before the horse’s hindquarters were swiped by a massive paw. The horse turned, reared up and clocked the bear in the face with its hooves, throwing Belisarius and Charis to the ground in the process. Belisarius recovered from the fall first, pulling the domina up along with him as he dashed towards the treeline, ignoring his hurts. The pained screams of his horse rang out, and he prayed to all the gods that its death would give them the head start they needed.
“What are you doing?! Aren’t you a fire mage? Just kill it!” the domina screamed.
If only it were that simple. He kept his own counsel and continued to pull the domina along as fast as their legs could take them. They managed to get to a clearing on the other side of the strip of woods before crashing branches signalled the bear on their heels. When he dared steal a glance behind him, he could see the beast gaining fast. He had only a small dagger on his person, his bow useless without the quiver that had been secured to the saddle of his horse. So be it. He turned around, pushing the domina onwards.
"Go! Reach the soldiers and tell them to call for a healer! I’ll buy you time!”
He didn’t bother looking back as the bear bore down on him. Gods, he only hoped there would be enough of him left for the healers to piece back together. Prepared for the worst, he pulled out his dagger, the drumming of his heart drowning out the din. The creature was massive, maddened, weeping burns between patches of singed hair.
As the beast closed the distance, enormous raptors’ claws tore down from the sky, catapulting the bear aside, gouging out chunks of meat. Before the bear could recover, a vicious beak lashed out, ripping the bear’s thick, bristled throat. The bear dropped to the ground, gurgling. When it weakly tried to rise, the raptor’s claws viciously pushed its head down into the bloodied grass. The griffin shrieked in triumph.
“What a rush! I take back what I said about you, Renfreid. No overstuffed chickens here.”
Belisarius couldn’t believe his eyes, let alone his ears. Selene sat atop the griffin, clutching what appeared to be small horns behind its pricked, tufted ears. Her hair was in wild disarray, as were her riding clothes. When she turned to him, her eyes were bright, her limbs trembling.
“Oh! Didn’t see you there, Belli! I hope this one counts towards the contest.” She winked.
“Thank the gods,” he said under his breath. If not for this barbarian woman, he’d have been bear food. He supposed he would need to swallow his pride where she was concerned, given that she’d saved him twice now.
“What was that? Oh, never mind. Let me introduce you to Lord Renfreid, a griffin of noble lineage. He and his people would be more than grateful if you would hear him out.”
With that the bells rang out, signalling the end of the hunt.
“This had best not be some elaborate prank, Domina Amethyst,” Domina Opal hissed in her ear.
“Get ready to make your apologies, Domina Opal. Not every noblewoman is capable of giving the prince a diplomatic cluster-fuck as a gift. You should consider yourself outdone in that regard,” Selene replied.
Domina Opal’s painted lips thinned into a red, mutinous line. Selene had dramatically swooped onto the hunt’s display stage on the back of a griffin, both prince and mauled, slightly burnt bear corpse in tow, wowing the crowd and dismounting with a flourish. Domina Opal had been relieved that the prince was unharmed, then apoplectic that Selene had dared to commandeer her gift to the prince for her own advantage. Sour grapes, as far as Selene was concerned. Even now, Domina Opal openly doubted the tale of a noble, shapeshifting griffin, cursed to remain in only one of his forms, unable to speak with anyone but Selene.
Selene had made very clear to Renfreid that there would be no mention of the particulars of the curse once he was freed from it. He’d agreed, and she’d made one-sided introductions to everyone gathered in an antechamber not far from the stables. Unlike most of the palace, this room was decidedly bare, having only a simple pattern painted on the walls in place of the usual overwhelming colours, patterns and glitz.
Only the emperor had managed to greet the griffin without looking or sounding at all doubtful. The small group of mages shuffled, uneasy, waiting for the spell to be broken by Lethe’s best curse mage. The prince, emperor, praetor and strategos, along with Domina Opal, her oldest brother Admiral Zephyros, Iliana and Selene herself all stood at a distance guaranteed by the curse mage to preclude them from catching any of the spell’s backlash.
