The others are gone now, and Carver is slumped against the wall, sitting on the hard marble floor. He has one knee up with a hand on it. The other hand is wrapped loosely around the neck of the earthenware jug at his side. He’s more interested in his wine than in any useless platitude I could try to give.
I sigh. I’ve had it for the day, maybe for a few days, and a bath is calling to me, loud and strong.
I glance at Griffin. He’s standing by my chair, looking dark and brooding. I hold out my hand to him, and for the first time ever, I wonder if he’ll take it.
He doesn’t reach for me, and a spasm contracts my whole chest. But then he turns just a little more in my direction, and his eyes change, brightening. He takes my outstretched hand and lifts it, pressing my knuckles to his lips.
“You must be tired,” he says, still holding my hand. “And you haven’t eaten much today.”
I let out a slow breath. Griffin’s hand warms mine, making me realize just how cold with worry I’d been.
“I’m not hungry. But I do want to wash and lie down,” I say.
Griffin nods, helping me up. To my everlasting humiliation, I lumber to my feet with a groan. Not long ago, I was walking through fire, riding snakes, and climbing a Cyclops. Today, I suppose I proved I can still move fast when I really want to. Otherwise, it feels like I keep doubling my body weight every time I sit down.
“Gods, Little Bean. You weigh a ton,” I murmur, stretching my aching back. She must already take after her father—big and solid.
Griffin’s mouth quirks up, the small smile bringing some familiar and welcome lightness back into his otherwise drawn features. “I’m assuming I’m not Little Bean in this conversation.”
I snort, taking a shuffling step. My body seems to loosen up once I start moving again—thank the Gods. “You’re Big Bean. Look at you… You’re huge.”
“Not as big as Ares. Your Thanos,” he mutters, an undercurrent of jealousy in his growling tone. It’s neither unexpected nor entirely unwarranted. I did jump into the God’s arms.
“He’s too big,” I answer truthfully. “You’re just right.”
Griffin is big and strong enough to protect me, should I need his help. He’s big enough to make me feel feminine. And big enough to overpower me in ways I know I’ll enjoy, since I also know I can trust him. He’s a very large and powerful man by human standards, but he’s not Olympian-sized, and I wouldn’t want him to be.
Gripping my hand, Griffin leads me from the great room and then turns us toward the stairs.
“Why Little Bean?” he asks, using his free hand to snag a torch from a sconce on the wall.
I shrug. “It just came to me. Don’t you think she’s the size of a bean? A really heavy but tiny little bean?”
He smiles more fully this time, and some of the weight lifts from me. Or maybe that’s Little Bean shifting around again.
“You’re a bean.” He squeezes my hand, and I feel even lighter. My heart seems buoyant after being so weighed down. It’s definitely Griffin making me float.
Well, not exactly float, but I do manage to pick up my feet.
“We’re a bean family,” I announce.
He chuckles. “That sounds distinguished. No wonder we have so many followers.”
“Absolutely,” I agree with a nod. “Thalyrians are smart. We’re also not prone to random massacres, which probably helps.”
“Indeed.”
I glance at him, arching my eyebrows. “Indeed? Is that scary warlord talk?”
He narrows his eyes on me, but something in the deep gray suddenly dances in the torchlight. “Indeed,” he repeats.
I laugh, and it feels like years of tension slide off my shoulders.
“Your belly is hardly rounded,” Griffin says, peering at the area in question. His eyes linger, and then he lets go of my hand to lightly draw his fingers over my lower stomach. “I didn’t think you’d feel her so soon.”
“Me either.” I eye my stomach, seeing nothing unusual. I expected to be increasingly aware of her life force. I didn’t expect the physical effects her apparent distress had on me today. “But I can’t say I’m surprised that she’s a special little powerhouse.”
Griffin grunts. I guess he agrees.
“Where in the Gods damn bloody Underworld have you two been?” A flame-haired Harpy erupts from a darkened side passage, storming into our path.
I jump, even though it’s just Bellanca Tarva arriving with the explosive energy of someone about my age but not pregnant.
“Gods! You nearly gave me a heart attack.” I scowl at her. Ever since that three-headed monster leaped out at me in the ice caves, dark corridors make me nervous. To be fair, they made me nervous before that, but now it’s even worse.
Griffin instinctively draws me closer to his side, even placing me a little behind him. He doesn’t quite trust Bellanca yet, although I think he should.
Bellanca’s hands fly to her hips. “What’s wrong with everyone here?” she demands, seeming genuinely worried. And spitting mad. Her wild red hair starts to spark, sending hot little flames sizzling down the curls. She bats at them, putting the Fire Magic out. “Everyone’s crying. I can’t find a courtyard where Lystra and I can walk in peace. I thought you’d gone off and gotten yourself killed! You, too,” she adds, glowering at Griffin.
Bellanca’s bald-faced disregard for the proprieties of rank rivals my own, but underneath her prickles and bluster, I think she truly cares, whether she wants to or not. Since her prophetess sister died to protect me and used her last breath to command her younger sisters to guard my unborn child with their lives, Bellanca has attached herself to me like an annoying and highly combustible leech. It was harder to sneak past her vigilance this morning than past the crowd outside the castle. I have a feeling her loyalty, once given, is an unshakable force. I can’t seem to shake her, anyway.
Lystra, the youngest recently dethroned Tarvan royal, has mostly been hiding in her room. Or staring at Kato, but all females over the age of ten do that.
“It was a family thing,” I answer with a worn-out sigh.
Bellanca’s brow clears of the tight little wrinkles that were marring her forehead. Her stance relaxes, and she nods. For a person who grew up in an abomination of a household much like mine, the word family, said in the way I just said it, explains a lot.
“Well, don’t go running off anymore.” She huffs, clearly still cross with us. “At least not without me.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, rubbing a little. I feel the start of a headache coming on. “Who’s in charge here?” I ask pointedly.
Bellanca’s bright-red eyebrows slam together like crossing swords, two fiery slashes across her fair-skinned face. “Oh, that’s nice! Just remind me of how you stole my realm and possibly my birthright.”
“I will,” I say. “And I’ll remind you of how you helped me.”
She pales, making her freckles stand out, and I want to kick myself. I just meant that she’d helped us. She chose our side over her power-hungry, cold-hearted, murderous brother’s. I didn’t mean to remind her of how she wrapped her flaming hands around Galen Tarva’s thick neck and burned her own flesh and blood into a pile of ash.