bowl. He looked up. “I saw myself dying,” he said at last.
Flell stifled an uncomfortable half-laughing sound. “What?”
“I saw the black griffin fly at me,” Arren recalled. “And then I was falling, and then I saw myself lying on the ground somewhere. It was night-time.”
Flell paused and took a drink. “That’s—I don’t like that.”
“It was just a nightmare,” said Arren. “I told you it didn’t mean anything. I always have dreams about falling. And the black griffin—” He sighed. “I haven’t stopped having nightmares about it. Not since Eluna died. I keep waking up and thinking it’s there, waiting to kill me.”
Flell scowled. “I’ve seen that griffin,” she said. “Gern talked me into going to the Arena this morning. It killed seven men and then started eating them. None of the other griffins would go near it; someone told me the first time it went into the pit it killed one of them. And then it tried to eat it.”
“I should have killed it,” said Arren. He stared into the fire, black eyes gleaming in the light. “I nearly did. I had it right there in front of me, tied up in a cage. I wanted to kill it; I was about to kill it. I had an arrow pointed right at the thing’s eye. But I just—maybe he was right,” he added, half to himself. “I should buy it back and kill it.”
“Orome would never sell it to you,” said Flell. “Never. Haven’t you heard? That griffin is famous. It’s only been in the Arena twice and everyone’s talking about it. Darkheart, the mad black griffin. People are writing songs about it. In fact—oh, never mind, it’s not important.”
“What is it?”
Flell shook her head. “No, no, forget about it.”
Arren smiled. “I told you something I didn’t want to, so now it’s your turn.”
“Well, there’s a song about you,” said Flell. “About how you caught the black griffin.”
“There is?” said Arren, surprised. “Really? How does it go?”
“Uh . . . I don’t really know it very well. It just says something about how the black-eyed boy fought the black-furred griffin until the griffin gave in and said you were its master, or something.”
“Oh.” Arren was a little pleased by this.
Flell finished off her wine and stared at the empty cup. She wished she hadn’t said anything about the song, and she hoped Arren wouldn’t get to hear it in its entirety. The song was far less complimentary than she had implied, and when she had first heard it she had come close to shouting at the person who’d sung it. People were cruel and ignorant sometimes.
Arren finished his wine and put his cup aside. He yawned. “Oooh, I’m tired.”
Flell glanced out the window. It was quite late, and she put her own cup down. “I think it’s bedtime for me,” she said.
Arren looked at her. “I’d better get going, then,” he said, standing up.
“Leaving so soon?” Flell asked, smiling.
“Well, if you’d prefer—”
She stood, moved closer and kissed him lightly. He paused, and then kissed her back. Flell took his hand. “Come on, you,” she said, and the two of them dashed up the stairs, giggling like children. They reached Flell’s room, where one of her servants had already lit the lamp.
Flell closed the door and kissed Arren again. “You’re so rough with that beard,” she giggled.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
They embraced tightly, their hands in each other’s hair, suddenly breathing hard. Flell said nothing. She undid the fastenings on Arren’s tunic, and he shrugged it off, letting it slide onto the floor. His hands slid down the neck of her gown and onto her shoulders, massaging the soft skin and muscle, and she undid the fastenings on the back and let it fall down over her hips and to the floor. They pressed themselves together, whispering each other’s names, until there was no more need to speak. They knew all they needed to know, and always would.
Flell slept deeply that night, her head resting on Arren’s chest, undisturbed by dreams.
When she woke the next morning she moved carefully away from him, not wanting to disturb him, and stretched. Sunlight was coming in through the window, and she could hear birds chirping. She could also hear Thrain. The griffin had climbed onto the roof and was calling, albeit not very loudly or impressively. Flell smiled to herself and looked down at Arren.
It was strange how different people looked when they were asleep. Flell had seen dead people, but they weren’t the same. Someone dead