Lyra hopped up and whipped around to face Grimley, who shook off the leaves, leaped up, and pawed at the ground. Strixes and gargoyles were natural competitors for food, and Lyra and Grimley both looked like they wanted to rip each other to shreds. Lyra’s beak, talons, and onyx-tipped wings were some of the few things hard, strong, and sharp enough to penetrate Grimley’s stone skin, while his horns, teeth, talons, and arrow-tipped tail could be used to equally brutal effect on her. It was a fight that could end only one way—with the two of them killing each other.
Even though it was stupid and dangerous, I leaped in between the two creatures just as they started to charge at each other. Grimley immediately halted, and to my surprise, Lyra jerked to the side to keep from running into me, although she whipped right back around.
“Stop!” I hissed, looking first at the gargoyle and then the strix. “Do you two want everyone in Blauberg to know we’re here?”
Grimley shuffled back, chastised by my harsh tone. Lyra bobbed her head, as though she was also sorry, then hopped over to Leonidas, who was still lying in the wheelbarrow.
She bent down and nudged him with her beak, but he didn’t stir. “Leo’s hurt.” She faced me again, her eyes narrowing to slits. “Did you hurt him?”
I held my hands out to my sides, trying to look as nonthreatening as possible. “No. It was a Mortan captain named Wexel.”
Lyra let out an odd, low cry that sounded very similar to one of Grimley’s growls, then raked her talons through the grass, leaving long gouges behind. “Kill him for this. Finally.”
Finally? How long had the strix wanted to kill the captain? And why?
I pushed my questions aside and pointed at Leonidas. “I have some medicine inside that might heal his wound. It’s the only chance he has.”
Lyra quirked her head from side to side, still studying me with narrowed eyes, and I could feel her distrust raking across my heart, the sensation as sharp as her talons tearing through the grass.
“Look at it this way. If you kill me now, then Leonidas will definitely die. But if you let me live, then he might live too.” I paused, an idea popping into my mind. “Besides, you can always kill me later.”
Topacia would have groaned at my pointing out that fact. She was always saying that I needed to be far less flippant and cheerful about things like my own death. She was probably right.
Grimley stepped up beside me. “Try to kill you later,” he snarled. “She won’t succeed.”
Lyra fluffed out her purple feathers in indignation. “Arrogant gargoyle. I smash little rocks like you all the time.”
Grimley grinned, showing off his teeth. “And I gobble down little chicks like you all the time.”
The two creatures glared at each other again.
“We’re wasting time,” I snapped.
A few seconds ticked by in tense silence. Then Lyra’s feathers smoothed down. “Help my Leo,” she chirped, her voice far softer than before. “Please.”
Gemma, Grimley’s voice sounded in my mind. You can’t trust this strix. She’ll try to peck your eyes out the first chance she gets.
No, she won’t. She just wants to save her human, even if that means letting me live. Wouldn’t you do the same if I had been hurt?
You know I would.
Then it’s settled.
Lyra’s head quirked to the side, almost as if she could sense my silent conversation with Grimley. Maybe she could, given her own bond with Leonidas.
I went over, grabbed the wheelbarrow handles, and pushed the container to the front door, which I unlocked and shoved open with my magic. Luckily, the door was wide enough for me to roll the wheelbarrow inside the cottage.
Grimley started to follow me, but I jerked my head at Lyra. He gave me a sour look, but he stayed outside with the strix. I would just have to hope that the two creatures wouldn’t kill each other—and that their scuffle hadn’t already killed Leonidas.
* * *
I kicked the door shut behind me, then rolled the wheelbarrow into the living room and set it down. Next, I used my magic to grab hold of Leonidas, lift him out of the wheelbarrow, and float him down to the rug in front of the fireplace. He still didn’t stir.
I grabbed some supplies, then dropped to my knees beside the prince. His face was still deathly pale, and a sheen of sweat coated his forehead, but his chest rose and fell in that slow, steady rhythm—
Tap.
Tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap.
Startled, I turned around. Lyra was standing by a window, pecking her beak against the glass in a quick, annoyed rhythm, clearly telling me to hurry up. Grimley was lurking behind her, his tail lashing from side to side, ready to pounce if the strix did anything stupid, like break through the window to try to kill me.
Don’t worry. He’ll be okay. I sent the thought to the strix, being careful to merely whisper the words, since I had never mentally communicated with her before.
Lyra stopped her incessant pecking, her head jerking back in surprise. Then she leaned closer to the window again.
He’d better be, her voice sounded in my mind, her singsong tone somehow high and menacing at the same time.
I grimaced and turned back to Leonidas.
The first thing I did was remove the shackles from his wrists and the collar from his neck. The coldiron gleamed a dull, flat black, and the metal felt cool and strangely sticky, as though I were holding solid rings of leeches that were eager to feed on my magic.
“Nasty things,” I muttered, tossing the collar, shackles, and attached chain aside.
Next, I unhooked the pin on the front of Leonidas’s cloak—a silver strix with glittering amethyst eyes that looked like Lyra—and tugged the fabric out from under his body. I also wrestled off his riding coat, leaving the prince in his black tunic, leggings, and boots.
Wexel had been aiming for Leonidas’s heart, but thanks to my magic, the captain’s sword had instead punched into the prince’s chest, close to his shoulder. Despite the bumpy wheelbarrow ride, my magic had held the tunic in place, and the black fabric was still balled up around and stuffed down into the wound. Blood had soaked into the fabric, but the makeshift bandage had stopped him from bleeding out.
I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the tunic off him, leaving only the wad of fabric around the wound. Part of me hoped that Leonidas would be hideous beneath his clothing, covered with hairy green warts, fat red boils, and dry scaly skin like a cursed prince out of some old fairy tale, but of course he was gorgeous. Muscles rippled across his chest and stomach, while a light sprinkling of black hair arrowed down below his leggings. Even the bruises that covered his body from the guards’ attacks didn’t detract from his appeal.
My pulse quickened, and my fingertips itched with the sudden urge to stroke his skin and see if his muscles were as hard and glorious as they looked—
Tap.
Tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap.
Lyra pecked on the window again, jarring me out of my reverie.
I kept my face averted from the strix, so she wouldn’t see the blush scalding my cheeks. Then I took hold of the blood-soaked fabric and gently pulled it out of the wound.
Wexel might not have hit Leonidas’s heart, but he had still done plenty of damage. Blood welled up out of the deep, jagged gash and trickled down Leonidas’s ribs, each drop shimmering like a liquid ruby streaking down his skin. The coppery stench of his blood also punched into my nose, making those familiar screams wail in my mind again.