His Human Queen

The Gryllus

Maeve:

With every thunderous beat of my boot against the frosted earth, I burned.

I let the thought of my family starving, of them feeling that profound hunger that had made me a murderer drive me.

I let the sounds of that woman’s giggles from Caspian’s room stoke that fire.

While I didn’t understand that jealousy, I used it to my advantage to push my burning legs deeper into the woods that would lead me to the Eupines.

It wasn’t until that frosted burn in my lungs and that ache in the muscles of my legs forced me to stop for a breath did I realize just how deep into those woods I had made it.

The silence that surrounded me was deafening. It sent shock wave after shock wave through my blood stream with every struggled breath that I sucked in.

One foot after the other I began the ascend up the Eupines, a dagger was gripped in each hand, my hair was pulled back in a coronet braid, my clothes gripped my skin so tight the the wind couldn’t dare reach me, and I knew… I was ready for whatever these mountains held for me.

The silence that followed my ragged breaths was a predator in its own right.

It was a heavy, watchful thing that pressed in on me from all sides, thick and suffocating.

The scent of pine and frost was suddenly replaced by something else—the sharp, acrid tang of danger, and beneath it, the dry, dusty smell of reptilian malice.

A low, grinding hiss slithered from the rocks above me, not the sound of an animal, but of the mountain itself groaning in protest.

My head snapped back, my eyes tracing the jagged line of the cliff, and there it moved, detaching itself from the shadows with a liquid grace that defied its bulk.

It was a creature made of nightmarish lore, a living monument to rage.

Its scales were the color of a bruised twilight sky, each edged with crystalline spurs that glittered like a thousand tiny knives.

Its head was a blunt wedge of bone and fury, and its eyes… its eyes burned with a malevolent, intelligent honeyed light.

Two massive, bone-white tusks curled from its jaw, and its claws, hooked and black, looked capable of tearing the soul from a body.

Now standing before me, steam pluming from its nostrils in the freezing air.

The cold knot of fear in my gut was a familiar sensation, but the fire that had driven me here was hotter.

I used the fear. I fed it to the flames burning high in my gut then I tightened my grip on the daggers, the leather of my hilts creaking in the silence and with one deep inhale, I whispered, ragged and horrified "Come on then,"

It answered with a roar that shook the stones from their perches and charged.

The ground trembled as it descended, a landslide of muscle and scales.

I didn't stand to face it; I became part of the mountain itself, throwing myself sideways into a painful roll over sharp-edged rocks. The monster slammed into the boulder behind me, the impact a deafening crack that sent shrapnel flying.

I was on my feet before the echoes died, lunging while it shook its massive head. I drove my right dagger toward the soft joint behind its leg. The blade shrieked against its scales, a torrent of sparks flying before it finally bit deep.

The beast’s bellow of pain was like an adrenaline fueled drug. I was already moving, throwing myself back as its jaws snapped shut on the empty air where I'd been.

It shook its leg, trying to dislodge the steel that was now a part of it, dark, tar-like blood welling around the wound. I needed an advantage. I scrambled up a narrow ledge, my boots finding purchase on the treacherous scree.

It followed, its claws carving deep, brutal gouges into the rock face as it climbed with a terrifying, fluid speed.

It cornered me on a small plateau, a monster of myth and fury with murder in its burning eyes. There was nowhere else to go. It knew it. I knew it. This was the end of the climb.

It lunged, not with its fangs, but with a clawed hand the size of my torso. I dropped low, the wind of its passage whipping my braid against my cheek. As its limb sailed over me, I saw it. The one vulnerability. I drove my remaining dagger upward with every ounce of strength in my body, aiming for the unarmored hollow beneath its arm.

The blade sank to the hilt.

The being froze, a choked, guttural sound tearing from its throat. It was an ending wound. I could feel it in the shudder that ran through its massive frame. I wrenched the dagger free and rolled away as its limb gave out, the beast stumbling sideways. It was faltering, its great head swaying, its breath coming in frothy, ragged gasps. But it wasn't dead. With its last spark of life, it turned, its eyes locking onto me, and lunged.

I met its charge. I didn't run. I dropped to my knees and plunged both daggers, one still slick with its blood, into the thick, corded muscle of its neck. I twisted, my muscles screaming, my whole body straining as I tore through flesh and sinew.

A geyser of dark blood erupted, drenching me in its warmth. The great beast convulsed, a final, shuddering sigh escaping its lips, and then it collapsed. Its body hit the ground with a bone-rattling thud that seemed to silence the entire world.

The silence that rushed back in was absolute. I was on my knees, panting, my body trembling with a violent mix of exhaustion and adrenaline. Blood—its blood, my blood—dripped from the daggers, from my own scrapes. The fire in my veins had banked, leaving a cold, hollow ache. I slowly, painfully, rose to my feet and looked down at the magnificent, terrifying thing I had killed. I had won. I had survived.

And that's when I felt it. A gaze upon my burning skin. A weight so intense it was a physical presence. I slowly lifted my head, my breath catching in my throat.

There, standing at the edge of the plateau, his face pale and his mouth slightly agape, was Caspian.

He wasn't looking at the creature. He wasn't looking at the blood that proved to him that I was nothing more than the murderer he thought I was.

He was looking at me.

His eyes, usually so full of easy mirth or arrogance, were wide with a stark mixture of awe and utter bewilderment, as if he were staring at a complete stranger… he was I realized. I was complete stranger, a stranger in a world not meant for mortals.

“I don’t belong here, Caspian,” I managed around my ragged breathing, wiping the blood from my face.

“I should go back to my family and you should go back to that girl that you were…” the last word died on my lips.

It felt like a led weight on my tongue.

“Is that what this is about, Maeve? Did you leave because I took another woman to my bed?” His feet moved impossibly fast over the frost slick stones separating us.

My heart beat, already thundering, sped up the moment his body heat and scent invaded my nose, the moment it warmed my angry skin.

“I have no business caring who you bed. I left because my family will die without me.” He rolled his eyes.

“Your family are well cared for now, Maeve. I’m not heartless enough to annihilate an entire family by taking their only means of survival.”

“You’re lying to me.” I was angry, how dare he show such arrogance and assume I was angry about the woman, and then lie to me about my family?”

“Why would I lie?” His hand rose to my face, his fingers tucking hair behind my ear with such… care that it was dizzying.

“Why would you tell me the truth?” I countered.

“Because I am a man of my word, and I have no reason to be anything but truthful to you, Maeve.”

“Come back to the pack house with me.” His words were like a tether pulling me back to the pack house, back to him.

“What did I kill?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“A gryllus.” His response was swift before he turned his dark honeyed eyes back to me.

“We should leave before more come back.” I shuttered thinking of there being more than one of those things out here.

“Do you promise me my family is cared for?” He only nodded then turned to begin his descend down the mountain.

But then he turned.

“And Maeve, human or no, you just proved you more than belong here.” He said, then turned away leaving me to make my own decision.