By the Silver Wind Read Online Free PDF Page B

count.”
    Brynja dipped her head, looking chagrined. “I know. You understand what I meant.”
    The song finished in haunting tones, Shard was dismayed to find out, with the death of En’s father in the final fight between their clans. Only after the battle did En and Oster tell their parents that she carried his heir. Their clans were already united, despite themselves. With that heir came peace, the blending of clan and bloodlines and unity ever after—at least, until Kajar, an Age later.
    Shard looked over to see Asrik watching them, and Shard narrowed his eyes, perking his ears in challenge. Asrik looked away, dipping his head to speak to his young daughter.
    “I’ll go speak to Asvander,” Brynja said, standing as cheers and calls and stamping feet announced the pride’s pleasure in the song. Even the Vanir had been swept away, Shard saw, and that made him feel a little better. Anything that could make the gryfons of the Winderost seem less of an enemy to his Vanir, anything that would encourage them toward the idea of lasting peace, was good.
    Still. He looked around the fire and caught sight of Asrik again, now watching Brynja. Shard’s feathers prickled and he stood, stepping in front of her to stare down Asrik himself. Brynja made a low noise. “Shard, don’t.”
    “No, I’ve had enough of this. He insults you, he insults me, and he insults his own son. We are grown gryfons and can choose our own mates. They act as if I stole you, as if you’re a pelt to be won, and Asvander let me steal you. This is foolish.”
    Bustling feathers and bodies filled the silent space after the song as gryfons rose to find their dens. Stigr pushed himself up, tilting slightly to one side as he adjusted his balance to his missing wing. Resisting the urge to help him, Shard watched instead as Valdis slid up beside the black gryfon and pressed to him in an apparent show of affection, but one that helped to steady the old Vanir.
    “Nephew,” Stigr said warily, for they both knew Shard had a habit of impulsiveness. “What are you going to do?”
    Kjorn stood as well. “Shard, I agree with you, but I ask you not to risk our new alliance.”
    Shard looked at him sharply. “They disrespect their own, and me. How strong can our alliance be with Asrik making petty nips at his son all the while? I’m going to settle this.”
    “Shard,” Brynja began, but before any could argue further, he dipped his head to all of them and trotted away toward the rise where they’d met with the clan leaders.
    Kjorn followed him. “How do you plan to settle it? Shard, don’t risk their allegiance for your mating. I can’t afford it. We can settle everything after, and we will, I promise.”
    “No, Kjorn.” He negotiated through departing gryfons to the slope leading up to the bluff and began to walk up it. “They’ll have no respect for me, and they’ll keep whispering about Brynja and Asvander. The only reason he’s not doing anything is because he’s my friend. I’m settling this, and I’m doing it now. Support me, brother.”
    Kjorn’s feathers ruffed. Once, he had not just been Shard’s wingbrother, but his lord and prince. Now they were equals, and Shard saw how, despite their friendship, Kjorn was not used to the idea. Shard still wasn’t, either, and he didn’t meet Kjorn’s gaze.
    “How?” Kjorn demanded again, stopping halfway up the rise while Shard continued on. “You don’t even know what they want you to do.”
    Shard opened his wings, looking down at the gathering. He could see everyone, and all would be able to see him. He glanced over his wing at Kjorn, dim gold in the last of the firelight.
    “You forget, I was raised by a Lakelander.” Shard returned his gaze to the scene below him. “I have a decent idea what they want, and I’ll get at least one clan of gryfons to stop whispering behind our backs and shaming their own.”
    “Shard, I beg you—”
    “Let it be known!” Shard bellowed, flaring his