The Hidden (Shadowed Wings #1)(22)

“I’ll grab you some food from the kitchens,” Tysa informs me and then disappears back out the door before I can say anything or beg her not to leave me alone.

I’ve never been one who was super comfortable in large social gatherings, and when you add in that I still have no idea where I am and know no one, I’m feeling a little awkward, to say the least. I make my way through the crowd, giving a small friendly smile to a guy I make eye contact with. He glares at me and then quickly turns away. Conversations become hushed as I get closer, and after a couple more glares and angry dismissals, I feel even more tense and awkward.

“Ahh, I was wondering if you’d be joining us or them,” Loa announces as she spots me and makes her way in my direction.

I don’t know who the them are that she’s referring to, but based on the sneer she’s wearing, I don’t think she’s talking about the armored gryphons. Loa stops in front of me, her frame towering, and she runs her gaze up and down my body.

“I’m glad to see Tysa was able to accommodate your...tastes,” Loa taunts, and it’s clear by the way she says tastes, she’s insinuating I don’t have any. I look around and see that I’m very overdressed—or maybe I should say underdressed—among this crowd, and I raise a knowing eyebrow at Loa.

This bitch.

“Yeah, Tysa’s a rare talent,” I tell her casually, not showing any of the discomfort or irritation I’m currently feeling. “It was so very kind of you to order this dress for me. I’ll be sure to think of plenty of ways I can repay your generosity,” I reply, my tone sweet, my gaze threatening. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the term highborn is a dirty word amongst these people and that Loa just hardcore fucked with my chances of fitting in here.

Or maybe my new white hair did that. Either way, I really want to get the fuck out of here, and as soon as I do, I’m ripping this dress off. I don’t care if I have to wear a sheet until I can get home; I don’t like how these people are looking at me, and the last thing I need is to be more of a target here.

The alarm goes quiet, and it’s enough of a distraction for me to slip past the tree-sized bitch, Loa, and make my way to a spot by the window. Relief washes through the crowd in the room, and the somber conversations quickly morph into more animated ones. Tysa finds me leaning against the wall and hands me a plate of food, none of which I can identify. I start with what I hope is a roll, figuring it’s probably the safest bet.

“Holy shit, that’s good!” I mumble with a full mouth as the soft buttery inside melts in my mouth with just a hint of sweetness. I proceed to stuff my face, not even caring that I’m eating like some starved animal, because I am, in fact, a starved animal.

“So, Tysa, can you fill me in on what the hell is going on here? I mean, going off of what I’ve been accused of and the sirens and shit, it seems like there’s some kind of battle going on, but I’m clearly missing a lot here,” I confess, and Tysa pulls on my hand, indicating that she wants me to sit down next to her.

I do, setting my plateful of food in my barely covered lap and attempt to slow down the ravenous stuffing of my face so I don’t choke. I bring a piece of what looks like some kind of turquoise fruit up to my nose and sniff it a couple times. I figure since it doesn’t smell like shit, it probably doesn’t taste like shit, so I put that theory to the test and take a small hesitant bite. I pump my fist when I discover that it tastes like the sweetest pineapple mixed with the sweetest strawberry I’ve ever tasted. I close my eyes and savor the new flavor.

“We are the Hidden,” she tells me and gestures to the room full of people. “We are gryphons who refuse to take the vow or bend the knee to unworthy leaders.”

I wait for her to elaborate, but she seems content with that explanation. “What makes them unworthy,” I ask, and a male close to us turns around and glares hard at me. “I’m not saying they aren’t; I’m just trying to understand,” I defend against the murderous look the stranger is now sending my way.

“It’s a really long story, but the Ouphe used to control and use us. We were required to enter into a vow of servitude at just sixteen. We fought for a very long time to break from that enslavement and from those practices, but our people are divided about the vow itself. Some leaders think that we should still swear fealty and take the mark of our ancestors. They pretend it’s to honor the original vow and the magic a gryphon can access if they make it. But really it’s so that the highbloods that have enough Ouphe blood in their veins can still control the rest of us.”

Tysa spits on the ground like she’s trying to rid herself of the taste of those words.

“We are the rebels that are fighting against that. We fight against control in all forms and the loss of our will. We are the Hidden,” she tells me once again, and this time, I look at the people in this room with a new understanding.

“And the alarms?” I query.

“They could mean a lot of things. A prisoner escape.” She stares at me pointedly, and I chuckle around a mouthful of some kind of meat that’s spicy and delicious. “It could be that we’re under attack, although the old magic in this mountain makes that unlikely. It could mean a returning patrol needs help, or the Avowed requesting a meet. We don’t fall for that trick much anymore though.”

I look around at the light smooth stone of the room and wonder what she means by old magic in this mountain. I notice something that looks like writing in the inside arch of the window, and one of the symbols triggers something in me. I stare at it, suddenly struck by the feeling that happens when a word sits on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t seem to wrap my mouth around it. It looks so fucking familiar, and yet I can’t seem to place it.