The Hidden (Shadowed Wings #1)(26)

“Well, Falon Solei Umbra, you’re not a wolf, you’re a gryphon, and it’s time you learn just what that means.”

This time, when Ryn says my name, there’s no sexy caress to it. No, this time it feels saturated with mockery and topped off with challenge. Ryn walks away from me like he’s thrown down the gauntlet and has nothing else to say, but his challenge isn’t one of those you got this and I believe in you kinds. It’s more of a meh, if you die, that’s one less problem I have to deal with. I watch him walk away, and the simple arrogance in his stride has me wanting to pick up the nearby rock I spot and chuck it at his head. I stop myself, just barely. Knowing my luck though, I’d miss him completely, and the rock would bounce off a tree and take me out instead, or worse, hurt one of the kids practicing here. That’s just what I need—some momma gryphon coming for me.

I stand there not sure what else to do. He didn’t say follow, and he didn’t say stay. The fact that I feel like a misplaced puppy right now is really fucking annoying. I watch the kids, at least I think they’re kids, sparring back and forth with their wooden swords, some of them elegant and smooth like a proper fencer would be, and some of them hacking away at their opponent, their brute strength just as much of a weapon as the sword in their hand is. It’s hard to tell if my initial teenager instinct is correct. They look young in the face, but they’re all about my size, some of them even bigger. It’s clear that gryphons are a larger people than humans are.

I’ve been so used to being a very tall woman amidst humans and shifters back home. However, here, I’m practically a runt. A yelp sounds off to my right, and immediately my eyes snap in its direction. A kid flicks his wrist just so, and his opponent’s weapon flies up in the air and arcs toward him where he snatches it from the air easily. I recognize the skilled swordsman as the walking, talking lie detector test that Zeph summoned at my interrogation. Ami, I think, was his name, or maybe it was Amit or Amish or something A. Shit, why do I suck at names so badly?

Whatever-his-name-is hands the sword he just stole from his opponent back and readies himself for another round of Medieval Fighting 101. I strain to watch them reengage, but I spot Ryn walking back toward me with another bigfoot of a gryphon shifter, and suddenly they’re all I can focus on. Ryn’s cocky swagger is in place and on display, but it’s the guy he’s talking to that I focus on. What the hell do they feed these guys? Steroids?

He has long, gold-streaked, chestnut-colored hair that’s pulled back at his nape. He has a beard that’s just past short and just shy of unkempt, and his sage-tinted gaze is focused as he listens to whatever it is that Ryn’s telling him, while also keeping his focus on the sword wielding trainees. His gait is powerful and assured, lacking the cocky bounce of the asshole gryphon next to him. They come to a stop in front of me.

“This is her,” Ryn announces, like I’m unworthy now of having my name in his mouth. I glare at him as the big guy finally takes his attention from the sparring kids and brings it to me. His eyes immediately widen with shock, and he snaps his head in Ryn’s direction.

“This is an eyas?” he asks, confused, turning back to me like he’s double-checking if he’s right. He runs his sage green eyes down my frame, and I can see the moment my lack of clothing registers. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and he shifts his weight like he’s uncomfortable, folding and then unfolding his arms.

“Trust me, she is,” Ryn assures him. “The little thing can barely fly,” he adds, looking at me with mock sympathy.

“If you’d stop trying to cuddle with me midair, maybe I could,” I volley back sweetly, even though in my head I’m pummeling the asshole. “What the fuck is an eyas?” I demand, not sure if they’re insulting me.

“It’s what we call our young,” the hot trainer answers and then returns his confused gaze to Ryn. “She’s highborn,” he suddenly objects, and I turn my glare on him.

Ryn shrugs. “She has the features, but no mark. She’s not even from here. Zeph found her near a gate. So until we can get rid of her, she’s your problem,” Ryn declares, and the trainer and I both round on him in shock. “Eyas, this is Sutton. Sutton this is the eyas. Get to work,” he orders and starts to walk away.

Sutton opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t hear what when a stinging slap lands on my ass cheek. Did this motherfucker just slap my ass? My hands fly to cover my stinging glute, and I spin and leap at Ryn’s back. My gryphon of course does jack diddly shit, but I don’t give a fuck if she sits this one out; I’m going to rip him apart if it’s the last thing I do. A feral growl bursts out of me as I soar closer to my target, but all of a sudden, I’m plucked out of the air like a pouncing cat and pulled back into a hard body.

I fight and snap to get out of Sutton’s hold, and then I seriously lose my shit when Ryn fucking looks at me over his shoulder and smiles.

“Cut that out, Ryn, or I’ll let her go,” Sutton warns, and I’m mildly pleased to see Ryn’s smile waver slightly before he turns around and disappears through the trees. I scramble and continue to try and go after Ryn while Sutton does his best to calm me. “Hey there, little bit, I can’t have you attacking the Altern on my watch, so you just have to let it go. I can teach you how to best him, but this isn’t the way to do it,” he coaxes, and the last statement gets my attention.