The Hidden (Shadowed Wings #1)(43)

“If you think I’m going to help you with shit after you just threw me out, then your essence isn’t as wise as you think it is,” I tell Nadi and push up from the ground.

My muscles are stiff, and the coolness of the dark hallway nips at my skin. Fuck. How long have I been down here?

“Falon?” a deep voice questions, and then it and the light rush toward me. “Falon, what are you doing down here?” Ryn asks as he bends down and runs his concerned gaze over me.

“You have a dead Ouphe city inside your mountain,” I tell him, gesturing to the stone doors as I sit up.

“Yeah, we know. The Ouphe abandoned this place a couple hundred years ago,” he tells me, and then he helps me to my feet.

“Apparently, they want to move back in.”

“What are you doing down here?” Ryn asks me again. He reaches up and pushes strands of hair out of my face, and I have to stop myself from leaning into his palm.

“Some kid, who wasn’t a kid, tricked me down here, and then Nadi showed up with all this you are our last hope bullshit, but then she threw me out when I said I’d think about it. Also, I’m pretty sure I heard the walls singing at one point; has that happened to you?”

Ryn stares at me as I ramble, his smoky gray eyes bouncing back and forth between mine, his look becoming more and more worried. My stomach takes that moment to growl its dissatisfaction over everything that’s happened. I clamp my hands over it.

“Falon, you should be resting. Have you even eaten anything since you woke up?”

“I was going to, but then…” I point at the door, and Ryn narrows his eyes at me.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

I open my mouth to argue that I’ve been in bed for a week and that I’m not tired, but I realize that’s not the case at all. I suddenly feel like the opposite is true and that I haven’t slept in a week. Ryn guides me down the short hallway and up the flight of stairs. I keep checking my surroundings, disoriented because this looked different when I was making my way down here.

“Corse,” Ryn calls to a guard as we make our way to the hallway where I first spotted the giggling ghost toddler. “Grab a few plates from the kitchen and have them brought up to Z—I mean, Falon’s room.”

The guard nods and marches off in the direction of the kitchens while we head the opposite way.

“Please,” I chastise Ryn.

“What’s that?”

“You could say please. You know, ask nicely for something. Use manners.”

“What do you mean?” Ryn queries, and I scoff.

“Of course you don’t know what I mean,” I grumble and wave the point of my conversation away.

“No, really, I do want to know what you mean,” Ryn presses, and we’re back at my room in no time.

“Do gryphons not have words that express gratitude when you ask someone to do something and they do it?” I ask, turning to see Ryn’s face.

“We just nod,” he answers with a shrug, and I laugh.

“So you never need to soften the blow of being bossy with a please or a thank you?”

“No, I am second in charge, and what I say or ask for doesn’t need to be softened; it just is,” he replies. “Where you come from you have to be soft?”

“Sometimes yeah, but I think it’s more of an acknowledgement that someone else doesn’t have to listen to you, but you’re grateful that they do. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Ryn answers immediately and ushers me toward the bed.

“So I would say, ‘Hand me that skin of water, please,’ and it would mean you don’t have to hand me that skin of water, but I’d be grateful if you do.”

“Or you could just say, ‘Hand me that skin of water,’ and know that the person you asked will do it and that’s that,” Ryn argues.

“Well, that’s easy for you to say though, because you have power as the second in charge,” I mock. “So people have to listen to you. But what if you didn’t have that authority?”

“Then you’d get the skin of water for yourself.” He looks at me, his gray gaze puzzled, and I can’t help but smile.

“Okay fine, manners aren’t for gryphons, I concede the point,” I offer with my hands up in surrender.

“Giving up so easily, Falon? And here I was thinking you were a fighter,” he teases, and I laugh.

“Oh don’t you worry, Altern, I’ll get a please out of you before I leave, just you wait and see.”

Ryn’s eyebrows drop, and his gaze grows troubled. “What do you mean before you leave?”

I run my eyes over his face, unsure of the emotion I’m seeing there. Worry? No that doesn’t seem right.

“Zeph promised that when we got back here, he’d take me home. So I’ll probably be leaving in a couple days,” I explain, and Ryn’s features go steely with anger.

“Did he now?” Ryn responds, but it feels more like a condemnation than a question. He backs away from me and stomps toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I demand.

“To speak with Zeph.”

“Oh no you don’t!” I command and scramble to put myself in his way. “I want to go home. It’s time. I’m grateful for what I learned about myself and Pigeon, but I don’t belong here.”