Page 50 of Sweet Briar


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“Shall we find out what all the fuss is about?” Briar asks, pausing with one hand on the knob. I stop her.

“We need to get our story straight first. You needed a moment of privacy, and I have been ordered to remain by your side. If anyone asks.”

Which they will. There’s no way our prolonged absence will have gone unnoticed.

But when we step out into the chaos of the ballroom, I quickly discover that my assumptions are completely and totally wrong.

No one is paying any attention to us, at all.

21

Briar

Killian follows me out into pandemonium.

“Shit,” my knight breathes, drawing out the word as he moves in front of me. I cling to his back, trying to figure out what’s going on.

People in fancy dress dart this way and that, shrieking in fear. The terrified orchestra players have broken ranks, dropping instruments in their haste to flee. One stalwart musician valiantly attempts to wrestle his enormous bass through a maze of strewn chairs and music stands. I wince when his foot lands on a violin.

A spray of broken glass decorates the ballroom. A tail lashes. Seconds later, two uniformed royal guards poke spears at a huge gryphon as it darts forward. It rears back on its leonine legs. Talons screech across a shield.

Alistair shouts and runs at it, his sword held high. I flinch, cowering against Killian. He slips one arm around my waist.

“Shouldn’t you help him?”

“And deprive Alistair of his chance to prove his courage before his people?” Killian shakes his head. “He’s been wanting an opportunity to demonstrate his monster-hunting prowess for years.” He catches my eye in a sidelong glance that feels likeour own secret, unspoken language. “It’s the brave prince who defeats the monster and rescues the princess in fairy tales. Not his dark knight.”

I smile at that, though I’d rather flee than remain here. Only Killian’s stalwart presence keeps me from running, too.

“I’ll bail him out in a few minutes,” Killian adds when the creature advances with a peculiar hopping slash. The half-lion, half-eagle moves with lethal, unpredictable grace.

Seeing the gryphon from behind the protective shield of Killian’s back, I’m startled to realize that a small part of me finds beauty in its ferocity.

Then the beast whips its head around to stare directly at me and my newfound curiosity expires on the spot. Cringing, I take a step back.

A wall of guards with long spears advances, but it’s focused on me. My lips part in wordless warning, but nothing comes out. One soldier scores a direct hit. A scream dies in my throat. The gryphon roars as blood flows down its side to mingle with the broken glass. It catches a guard with one talon and sends him crashing into a marble column. The man moans but doesn’t get up.

Killian edges forward a step, pushing me behind him, when it again swings its head in my direction. Its taloned foreclaws tap menacingly against the gleaming ballroom floor. Closer.

It’s coming for me.

Alistair lunges. The gryphon emits an ear-shattering shriek and pounces on an attacking guard. Its beak closes around the man’s neck with an audible crunch.

I cover my mouth, gagging.

“Time to make our exit, Princess.”

Killian manacles my upper arm, the same way he’s gripped me when he’s angry at me for flirting with him, with fierce urgency. The stroke of his thumb on my inner arm fizzes myblood. A dirty vision of me bent over, manacled this way, while he drives unrelentingly into my?—

The gryphon stops attacking the guards and stares directly at me.

Frissons skitter over my skin.

That thing isn’t coming for me. It’sherefor me. It sensed my turmoil, and came to…protect me?

Before I can do anything more than gasp at the implications, Alistair’s sword hacks down on the back of its neck. The beast is, listing to one side. I cover my mouth with both hands, gagging. Guards drive spears deep into its belly. It cries out once more in that shattering scream and falls to the floor, dead.

Alistair, flushed and breathing hard, buries his sword in the gryphon’s jugular for good measure. He leaves it there, quivering, and stalks over to us, his face a thundercloud.