Rise of the Gryphon (39 page)

“Conlan was compelled, too, but he proved to be a disappointment.”

Kizira could not argue that point. She’d compelled Conlan to aid her in trapping Tristan, which had gone well. In fact, Conlan had been coming along just fine until Flaevynn had pushed him to service her sexually and he’d balked.

She’d sent him to the dungeon for that.

Flaevynn moved around her private domain, floating a foot above the ground, back and forth in a frenzied
motion. With so much energy swirling around the room, lightning sparked from above her waterfall where the water connected with the electricity in the air.

Kizira hoped her timing was right. “That is why we must test Evalle’s loyalty.”

If Flaevynn refused and Kizira argued, Flaevynn would become suspicious and not support Kizira’s plan. Or throw her back in the dungeon.

Still waiting on you to jump in, Da.
She pinned him with a testy look.

Cathbad held his hands out to each side. “What test can we do with so little time left?”

Flaevynn paused in whipping around the room and appeared in front of Kizira and Cathbad, addressing him first. “You said we needed
her
”—she pointed a wicked finger at Kizira—“to bond with these beasts. She’s the one fully in control of them. This makes it Kizira’s problem to bring me proof of Evalle’s loyalty, or I’ll turn them over to Tristan.”

That could not happen. Thankfully, Kizira’s unbound hair hid the sweat that trickled down the back of her neck. She hadn’t told Cathbad her plan, and wouldn’t. He’d probably send her to the dungeon himself if he knew what she was going to attempt.

Flaevynn shifted the full force of her glare to Kizira, who decided now was the time to gain Flaevynn’s confidence. “I will bring you proof and I will lead the gryphons, who will deliver the victory you expect.”

“Then what are you doing still standing here?”

Glad to leave, Kizira vanished from Flaevynn’s sight
and teleported to the small chamber where she’d sent Evalle to meet with Tristan.

Tristan merely blinked at her arrival, but Evalle turned a glare bursting with hatred toward her. Kizira asked Tristan, “What’s going on?”

“I just informed Evalle of her
dual
heritage.”

“How was that pertinent to the attack?”

“The sooner Evalle realizes whose team she’s playing for, the sooner she’ll get with the game plan.”

Kizira gave him a silent kudo for possibly helping her cause. She told Evalle, “Queen Flaevynn has requested proof of your loyalty.”

Evalle snickered. “Tell her not to hold her breath, unless she can die of suffocation. Then, by all means, go for it.”

“Leave us, Tristan.”

He vacated the space immediately. When Evalle turned to Kizira, the Belador warrior sent the Medb priestess a glare that dared anyone to push her another inch right now.

Kizira might sympathize with her if she had the time to spend on ridiculous emotions. Evalle hadn’t spent her entire life being ground under a Medb thumb. “As for your DNA, none of us gets a choice in whose genes we carry.”

“Telling me I’m part Medb will not make me one.”

“True, but saying that to Flaevynn is not wise.”

“Tell that bitch to—”

“Shut. Up.”

Evalle paused. “That works.”

“I meant you. We’re running out of time too quickly to waste it on your smart mouth. You know where you came from. Deal with it and get over it.”

“You seem to think I actually care about
your
schedule.”

“You will,” Kizira assured her.

“Right. Tristan told me how once you turn me into a Medb zombie slave and compel me, I’ll dance on your puppet strings. Go for it, but know that I’m taking everyone down with me if you try to make me kill Beladors.”

Jaw tight, Kizira muttered, “Your stubborn attitude may kill more than the Medb.”

Evalle pulled back at that, confused.

Kizira kept an eye on the walls that would lighten in color when anyone touched this space with majik, be it teleporting in or Flaevynn snooping with her scrying wall.

Crossing the area between her and Evalle, Kizira ignored the aggression building around Evalle. “Have you not realized that some of the times you and the Beladors have defeated . . . your enemy . . . you had a bit of luck on your side?”

“Enemy? Would that be the Medb?” Evalle asked, as if speaking to an imbecile.

What qualities did Quinn see in this woman that made him care about her?

Kizira held her temper. She had no time for angry rants and could not risk Flaevynn’s tossing her into the dungeon again. “A man once wanted to ask me questions
I could not answer due to my being compelled, so he created a game of words.”

Watching Evalle for a reaction, Kizira lost hope in her lack of immediate enthusiasm. Did Evalle not realize she was being offered a chance to do what Kizira could not—save Quinn?

How had Macha not killed this one yet?

Evalle dialed back her urge to retaliate against all things Medb and considered what Kizira was saying. The priestess hadn’t outed Lanna and had answered Evalle’s questions, even allowing her to talk to Tristan in this warded room.

What was Kizira trying to tell her now? How to get around a compulsion spell to gain information? Was that how Quinn had dug up information during the Svart troll attacks on Atlanta last week?

Evalle had suspected Quinn’s intel had come from Kizira. Now it made sense.

She didn’t want to feel anything akin to respect for Kizira, but the woman had to face worse than being sent to a dungeon if Flaevynn ever found out that Kizira was aiding her enemy. “So you’re saying you’ll be straight with me?”

Kizira’s eyes brightened with hope. “Take care to ask the right questions.”

“Okay, I understand. No asking direct questions you’re compelled against answering.” Evalle chewed lightly on her thumb, thinking, then dropped her hand. She didn’t know yet how she would get word to the Beladors,
but she needed a better time frame than what was left of this forty-eight-hour window. Probably a day at the most in the mortal world.

Evalle started with, “When would be an optimum time for someone to start a war?”

Kizira shook her head.

“Crap. How can a Belador survive an attack on Treoir?”

Huffing out a breath in irritation, Kizira shook her head again.

Maybe she shouldn’t have used the name Treoir. “What would prevent gryphons from reaching a mystical island?”

Kizira grabbed her head. “You are
terrible
at games.”

“Maybe because I. Don’t. Play.
Games!
You freakin’ tell me what I need to know.”

“I can’t tell you what I’m compelled to keep secret.”

Evalle growled and leaned toward her, out of patience. “Then tell me something you’re
not
compelled to hide, blast it.”

Tension fired through the room until Kizira gasped. “Wait. That’s it.” She gripped her hands together, excited. “You gave me an idea. First, we have to come up with a way to prove your loyalty to Flaevynn.”

“Back to that, huh?” Evalle said, disgusted.

“You have the patience of a gnat. Answers to your questions will do you no good if you remain here in TÅμr Medb.”

The lightbulb practically electrocuted Evalle’s brain when it dawned on her that she had a chance to go back
to Atlanta. A chance to get word to the Beladors
and
see Storm. She’d figure out how to play chess if that ended in a ticket home. “Hey, I’m in. Give me another chance. What do I have to do to prove my loyalty to Flaevynn?”

Calm swept over Kizira. She nodded, determination firing in her words. “If you brought back something valuable belonging to one of the Beladors you’re close to, Flaevynn might accept that breach of trust as a sign of loyalty.”

“Why? Wouldn’t she think I just asked for whatever I get?”

“Not if you’re compelled in front of her to steal the item and leave clear evidence that you committed the theft. Maybe something from a hotel room.” Kizira raised her eyebrows, encouraging Evalle to grasp her meaning.

Hotel room. That would have to be Quinn’s, which would mean she’d have to steal . . . “A warded Triquetra? Are you nuts?”

“So you admit failure before trying.”

“No, I’m admitting nothing, just thinking out loud.” And coming to grips with the idea of leaving evidence of betraying Quinn. His Triquetras were custom-made in a secret location, especially the warded one he used for personal security. “How would I get inside his room?”

“I can get you in there.”

Evalle walked off a moment, arms hugged around herself as she tried to hold off a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. It was one thing to be thought a traitor and another to be proven one. She hoped he’d
give her a chance to explain if she survived . . . if the Beladors didn’t kill her in the attack on Treoir.

What was she thinking? Everything would change after this battle.

Regardless of whether the Medb won or lost, how could Evalle ever go home if the gryphons attacked Treoir? Anyone with a brain would quickly figure out the Medb had turned Alterants into gryphons. That meant she couldn’t waste this one chance to return to Atlanta.

She had to explain to Storm so he wouldn’t hate her. Worse, he’d be hurt. She couldn’t live the rest of her life with that on her conscience. “I’ll go, I’ll bring back the Triquetra and I’ll convince Flaevynn I’m on her team.”

“About time.”

“Speaking of that, I’m not going unless you give me some extra time there.”

“How long?”

“Six hours.”

“I can’t give you that much. The attack is—” Kizira grabbed her throat and coughed, struggling to breathe.

So that’s what happened when you tried to go against being compelled? “Oops.”

Icicles should be hanging off Kizira’s chilling glare. She rubbed her throat. “I can give you four hours.”

That would have to suffice, but Evalle now had a time frame for the attack. She had to get going. “Okay. Now, what idea did I give you a minute ago?”

“You said to tell you something I wasn’t forbidden to say. First, understand that you will be compelled to
not speak to anyone about your time here or the attack. You’ll be compelled to tell no one about Alterants changing into gryphons or that you have evolved into one. You just saw what happened when I almost made that mistake.”

“I need to know what I
can
say.”

Kizira pinched the bridge of her nose, then lowered her hand. “Pay attention and curb your sarcasm. I will
not
compel you to share your deepest wishes.”

What did that mean? “What deepest wishes?”

Kizira’s shoulders eased with relief. “For example, I will not compel you to tell someone
not
aligned with the coalition that it would make you happy if your two closest friends were to spend the next twelve hours watching over Atlanta instead of traveling to faraway places.”

Evalle sorted through Kizira’s cryptic suggestions and realized the Medb priestess wanted her to warn Quinn and Tzader away from Treoir. “You think I would intentionally undermine Belador defenses?”

Kizira lost her fleeting look of hope and snarled, “Can’t you figure out the simplest puzzle? Do you even care about anything besides how this affects you?” Calming herself, she pleaded, “Think, Evalle. This is a game where we both stand to lose people we care about.”

That backed Evalle up a step mentally. She replayed their conversation. This was about protecting Quinn more than anything. “You really care about—”

“
Him,
” Kizira said quickly, her eyes glancing around as if in fear.

“Thought this place was secure.”

“It is, but I never risk his name.”

Evalle couldn’t pin down how she felt about seeing this side of Kizira. “What’s the deal between you two?”

“I don’t wish to discuss this further, especially if you aren’t going to do your part.”

“Oh, I’ll play the game now that I understand how to manipulate the words.”

“Not that I’m hearing.” Looking away, Kizira whispered with desperation, “He has no one to protect him.”

A guilty weight had pressed on Evalle’s chest for weeks about Quinn. If Flaevynn did not know about Quinn, then it seemed logical that Kizira could solve an internal conflict Evalle was tired of wrestling with. “Tell me something. Speaking of
him
, did he or did he not tell you how to find me when I was with Tristan in the Maze of Death a couple of weeks back?”

That startled Kizira, drawing her gaze back. “Yes, but involuntarily. I withdrew the information from him while he was incoherent. You want to know if he’s still your friend. He’s done nothing to betray you. Anything you’ve heard, especially the day Tristan took you to the house in the country, is a twisted tale to turn you against him.”

Evalle believed Kizira. The weight lifted a little, allowing her heart to thump with peace again. And, if what Kizira said was true, Tristan had been tricked as well. He’d taken Evalle to meet an old Belador so pitiful he’d needed an oxygen tank to breathe.

Had that old guy been the traitor instead of Conlan O’Meary, who was still on the run? “Speaking of that
day with Tristan, where’s the old Belador who told me those twisted tales?”

“He was not an old man but Conlan O’Meary wearing a glamour.”

“So Conlan
is
the Belador traitor after all.”

Kizira shook her head. “No. When he offered to join up with us, we suspected a trick.”

“You didn’t help him escape the prison beneath VIPER’s southeastern headquarters?”

“Why would we risk our people when we didn’t need him?”

Well, duh. “If Conlan’s not the traitor, then who is?”

“That I can’t tell you.”

Evalle wondered, “Do you think Qu- . . . our mutual friend helped Conlan escape?”

Kizira bared her teeth. “How can you think that? He is too honorable to do such a thing. What kind of friend are you?”