Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(93)

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 T?μr 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.