overgrown chickens next door. Ow!” Thrain had bitten her on the ear. “I didn’t mean you, silly.” She took Arren’s hand. “Will you be all right?”
He nodded again. “Thanks for your help, Flell.”
Flell lifted him to his feet and embraced him. “I’ll always be there when you need me, Arren,” she said. “Always. Just as you’ve always been there for me.”
The embrace, and her words, lifted some of his black despair. He hugged her back tightly, ignoring the blood soaking into his hair. “I love you, Flell,” he murmured.
She let go and punched him playfully on the arm. “Do you, now? Well then, next time there’s a problem, you come to me. No more locking yourself away, understood?”
Arren dabbed at his ear. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“Good,” said Flell. “Now, I’m afraid I have to go and see my father. But come and visit me soon and we’ll have dinner together, all right?”
“I’ll be there,” Arren promised. “Roland, d’you want me to start work today?”
Roland shook his head. “No, no. You’ve had quite enough excitement for one day, I think. Go home and get some rest and be back here tomorrow as early as you can. If I’m not here, just go to Alisoun or Landry. I’ll let them know about the situation so they’ll be expecting you.”
“Thanks, Roland.” Arren drank the cold tea out of the mug. “I’d better go home and do some tidying up.”
He and Flell parted just outside the hatchery, and Arren made for his home, shoulders hunched. He’d put on a brave face for Flell and Roland, but he knew they hadn’t been fooled. They knew what he was really feeling. They’d always been able to read him, especially Flell.
He tried to look on the bright side. At least he had a job now, even if it was a menial one. It would help him get by until . . .
Until what? Until another griffin chose him?
He sneered. There was no chance of another griffin choosing him, not now. It had been a freak chance that had led him to become a griffiner in the first place, and the likelihood of it happening again was extremely poor, if not nonexistent. No, he was not a griffiner now, and he never would be again. That dream was over, and there was nothing left for him to do but get on with his life.
He reached into his pocket and felt the tiny object in there. He’d almost forgotten about it. Perhaps it was time now...
He reached his home, lost in thought, and unlocked the front door. Some food and sleep would do him good, after he put a dressing on his ear.
But when he entered the house, he found someone already there.
14
Accusation
It was Lord Rannagon.
Arren started toward him. “What are you doing here?”
Rannagon was alone this time, but he had his sword with him. He stood up. “Good evening. Don’t worry, there’s no need to be alarmed; I’m just here to say hello.”
Arren closed the door. “I’m not doing anything wrong, all right? I haven’t told anyone anything. They wouldn’t believe me anyway. I’m just trying to get on with my life, understand? So you can leave me alone.”
Rannagon nodded, “Yes, yes, understood. Have you found another job yet?”
“Yes. With Roland, at the hatchery.”
“That’s good,” said Rannagon. “Roland’s very fond of you. He’ll be a good employer. Flell told me she was helping you get back on your feet.”
Arren stuffed the key back in his pocket. “I suppose you want me to stop seeing her.”
“No. That’s her own choice. I don’t entirely approve, but I can’t stop her. Go on seeing her, by all means. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and I’m very pleased to see you’re doing so well. But if there’s anything you still need—”
Arren sneered at him. “D’you honestly think you can come in here and pretend you’re my friend? You betrayed me, Rannagon. Don’t think I’m going to forget that.”
“I don’t think that,” said Rannagon. “I’m just making sure you’re all right.”
Arren pointed at the door. “And now you know. So you can leave me alone.”
Rannagon nodded and made for the back door. It was open, and Arren could just see Shoa crouched outside. “Understood. Goodnight, Arren.”
Arren stood by the table, arms folded, and watched him go without saying a word.
Rannagon paused in the doorway. “I’ll be in touch.”
Arren just stared at him, unreadable, and the old lord shrugged and was gone.
Once he’d left, anger boiled up inside Arren again. He