Christmas Griffin - Zoe Chant Page 0,50

cut through the chaos. Both twins fell silent, and so did the rest of the table. Even Grizelda paused her story.

The man who had spoken was Delphine’s grandfather, Alastair. He was seated at the head of the table and treated the position like a throne. His hair was pure silver, and his eyes a rusty gold that could control the whole room with a single look. His wife, Angela, was sitting next to him. Her hair was a paler silver and her eyes a darker bronze.

Delphine had introduced him to them both before the meal and they had waved him away. He didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved.

When conversation started to burble up again, he tried to steer the one he was having in a less disturbing direction.

“Must have been quite the undertaking, getting everyone out here. Pine Valley isn’t exactly on the main route.”

“Yes, it’s quite off the beaten track! But after what dear Sara told us about last year—that’s Delphine’s mother but of course you know that already—we simply couldn’t miss it. We all wondered what could have lured her away from a family Christmas, and now that we’re here, we quite understand.” Grizelda bared her teeth in a smile that had too many teeth in it to be truly friendly. “It’s so freeing, don’t you think, being so far away from human towns?”

“There are still humans in the town.” Hardwick groaned internally. Did Jackson and the Heartwells know the Belgraves were being this slack about secrecy? “Anyway, I thought Delphine’s family came here to see her last Christmas.” Lured away, indeed.

“Oh, well.” Grizelda waved away the idea of a mother wanting to see her daughter for Christmas rather than a horde of in-laws. “Delphy’s adorable, of course. Such a sweetheart. But she’s not exactly a team player, is she? Now, the twins—excellent value there. Why, when dear Brutus had his First Flight...”

Hardwick got the feeling his input wasn’t needed for the rest of the conversation. He held his tongue for the next few minutes and was proved right. Grizelda was happy to hold forth indefinitely about her thoughts on the family, and when she eventually ran out of material, another Belgrave stepped in.

It was all the same rubbish. Belgrave this, Belgrave that, heritage this, unbroken line of shifters that. To hear them talk, there’d been a winged lion at every important event in European history for the last three thousand years. Hardwick was tempted to ask if there’d been a Belgrave ancestor propping up the manger.

Instead, he found his head was buzzing so badly he could only make out one word in ten. The haze of lies that covered the dinner table was circling him. They hit more like mallets than knives: dull, blunt trauma. Endless. Unstopping.

“Of course, we expected nothing less of our Livia—”

“And Brutus, you know, takes his studies so seriously—”

“What a surprise! Of course, I’ve always known that dear Delphy would do well…”

“—so happy for you both, truly—”

“Hardwick?”

Delphine. Her voice cut through the fog. Somewhere, a chair scraped. Hardwick fumbled for the golden light that connected her to him, but before he could get a grip on it, Delphine was beside him. He got a grip on her, instead.

Her hand was cool against his forehead. He could have told her there was no point. He wasn’t sick, he was—

“We’re going to head upstairs,” she declared, her voice carrying in a way it hadn’t ever before in front of her family. “It’s been a long day—”

It hadn’t. Not technically speaking. It had already been almost midday by the time the roof got them up. Hardwick cursed under his breath as pain shot through his skull, a vibrating crescendo above the haze.

Delphine’s other hand tightened nervously on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong with him, Delphy?” someone asked.

“Time for us to go.” Delphine hooked his arm over her shoulder and helped him up. Hardwick silently thanked her for not even trying to answer whoever-it-was’s question. She guided him to the door. Just before it shut behind them, Grizelda’s voice rang out above the noise:

“A migraine, I suppose. Oh, it’s a human thing, Papa. I wouldn’t have thought shifters suffered from them, but, well. You know...”

With that heartening display of solidarity, Hardwick and Delphine stumbled into the foyer.

“I’m so sorry,” Delphine said at once. Her voice was tight. “What do you need?”

“Silence.”

She stiffened under his arm, and he swore at himself silently. “Not you. Them. Is there a room we can go to, or...?”

“Upstairs.”

His head was still pounding.