I did not share his aversion. If I had not subdued them, those griffins would have killed us first, I had no doubt about that. They would have seized the air from my lungs and suffocated Ciaran’s fire magic before he could even singe their pretty feathers.
With the worst of the threat extinguished, I pulled the water out of the lungs of the fey and the Ktínos warrior so they could regain consciousness. Both of them rolled over instantly and began coughing violently between desperate gasps for air. The Ktínos slumped in relief on one of his trembling wings, which was tucked at an awkward angle beneath him while his back heaved. The fey gave a feeble flutter of its moth wings as if it might escape, but it was still too weak to move its spindly limbs. Its oblong head twisted toward us, and its enormous eyes fell on the blade Ciaran held at his side, which was still dripping with blood from the Imítheos. It made a pitiful squeak of protest that might have made me laugh if this vile creature were not leading Riordan’s men to refugees.
While we had waited, Ciaran told me about the fey in the Vale who were helping the Griffin King track down their own kind from the Spring Court. And it made me sick to think about it because I knew that I might have been one of those misguided fools. Had I not become a captive of the Wild Hunt, I might have been convinced by whatever narrative Riordan was using to get fey trackers to help with the situation.
“You are lucky. I do not intend to use a blade on you. Traitor though you may be,” Ciaran told the insectoid.
“Traitor?” it chirped indignantly, rolling over to sit up and puff out its chest in an unexpected show of bravery. “I recognize no other allegiance but to King Riordan!”
“Your king helped destroy the court of your ancestors.Your homeland,” Ciaran snapped back instantly before he lifted the tip of his blade to the fey’s thin throat. “Tell me how many innocent Spring Court fey the four of you have sniffed out and sicced soldiers on,” he commanded.
The fey leaned back and slowly raised all four of its insectoid limbs in surrender.
“I simply followed my orders. We tracked down spies and threats to the kingdom,” it insisted calmly.
“And just how many of thosethreatswere children?”Ciaran countered.
The insectoid went silent, but its antennae drooping was enough of an answer for Ciaran. His expression turned so murderous that I thought he might break his word and kill the creature after all.
“We brought those people here because it was the only way to save their lives after yourkingcaused their world to collapse,” Ciaran snarled. His leather armour appeared to begin steaming as his fire magic surged in his veins. “Nowyouhunt them.”
The insectoid was intelligent enough not to speak as it eyed the smoke rising from Ciaran’s arms.
The Ktínos scout was not.
“And we will keep hunting them down until every last rebel is caught. Then my king will come for your court,” the griffin mumbled into the feathers of his wing that was still bent under him while he caught his breath.
Ciaran turned very slowly to the griffin and took a step toward him, but I grabbed his arm. I hissed and then used my healing magic to protect my skin so his heated armour did not continue to burn me.
“I have a better idea for him,” I insisted, keeping my hold on Ciaran until he relaxed and nodded.
I released the other rider and stalked toward the griffin still lying prone. I grabbed his shoulder to roll him over the way he seemed to hope I would because he struck out at me with a knife he was clearly hoping I would not see. Luckily for me, I had anticipated him, and he gave a wild roar of rage and denial when his wrists and wings were all bound by vines that shot out of the earth around him.
I stepped over him as he continued to struggle so I had one bare foot on either side of his hips. I grabbed the front of his breast plate to yank him upright and then tipped his chin back to force him look at me with enraged gold eyes. His skin was still so dry and drawn, his lips cracked and bleeding from dehydration thanks to my magic.
“Return to your king, and tell him that Ornella sends her regards,” I instructed him as I shifted my hand from his chin to cover his mouth. He tried to pull away again, but my vines held him securely in place. Even when he began to thrash and scream as roots grew out of my hand and down his throat into his gut.
Once I was done, I released him and stepped away, watching in amusement as he instantly went to all fours to try and vomit up the seeds I had put inside him.
“It is no use. Go quickly now before you are too late to bring my message to your king. Maybe he can save you,” I taunted so he was motivated to get to Riordan.
Sobbing and still gagging, he raised his wings and took flight without another threatening word.
We returned to the refugees with our prisoner just in time to see a herd of Spring centaurs canter into the clearing with the Spring fey. Their whinnies and horselike snorts filled the air as they began stomping around and bumping into one another. Their bodies were immense, they were twice Ciaran’s height, and easily weighed over a ton of pure muscle. The ground shuddered beneath them as all the other fey scrambled away from the trampling hooves. Their coats ranged in colour from black and dark bay to blue roan and white, which matched the complexions of their bare torsos and long hair.
“Declan!” shouted Ciaran as he handed the insectoid prisoner off to one of his men, and I saw a centaur with a seal-brown body and white socks turn. I guessed he was the leader when the stallion began tromping over to us.
“Ciaran O’Scátha!” Declan called back.
“Your surname is O’Scátha?” I murmured dubiously, wondering how many of his ancestors had to have been Shadow Walkers for them to name themselves for it.
Ciaran ignored me as he bowed his head to Declan once the centaur had reached us. The rider was confident with the stallion, but I wanted to keep my distance from a creature that could trample me.
“Thank you for coming to our aid. I know it is riskier than ever,” Ciaran acknowledged, and I noticed Declan’s herd were all kneeling for the Spring fey to mount them. Many of the centaurs were carrying three or four fey on their broad backs.
“We heard what happened to the Spring Court and are eager to help. It is being said here in the Vale that it was Rian’s fault that the Spring Court collapsed, but of course we know better. Balor is a snake,” hissed the centaur with an angry horse squeal and a stomp of a foreleg.
“Any word from Byrne or his herd?” Ciaran asked.
