Free The Lost Heir (The Gryphon Chronicles, Book 1) by E.G. Foley Page A

pool closest to the earl. “Yes, my lord?”
    “Perhaps you have a pretty lullaby to sing for all those nasty prison guards. Oxley and his men will need a bit of help breaking into Newgate.”
    “Oh, yes, I know just the tune!” The hag clapped her warty greenish hands. “But if you want me to do it, I must have a feather! I must go, after all, to where the prison guards can hear me sing my tune.”
    “But of course.” With a debonair smile, the earl reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a scarlet feather with a faint golden shimmer of magic dancing round the edges.
    Gladwin stared at it, mesmerized, but unsure what it signified.
    Fionnula’s eyes shone with an unholy gleam as Waldrick offered it to her, but he paused. “Now promise, my lovely, that you’ll keep your end of the bargain.”
    “Don’t I always?”
    He did not deign to answer that. “And that you won’t run amuck after you are through?”
    Her eager smile turned to a huff. “It’s none of your business if I do!”
    “Fionnula,” he chided.
    “I cannot always stay penned up in this cave, Waldrick! You have no idea how boring it is! I need life, parties, dancing! Every now and then, a girl has to stretch her legs!” She lifted a rubbery tentacle from the water and wiggled it playfully.
    Waldrick’s smile was not quick enough to mask his distaste. “Limbs, my dear. Do try to be a lady. In the polite world, we call them limbs , if we must refer to them at all.”
    “Ha!” She turned her back on him. “You don’t approve of my manners? Find yourself another way into Newgate!”
    “Now, now, Fionnula, don’t be cross. Very well, I don’t wish you to be unhappy in my humble home. Of course you can have the feather. If you need to go out and have some fun afterwards, I suppose I don’t mind. Just make sure you’re back by dawn, and for heaven’s sake, don’t let my Society friends see you in—this form.”
    “Done,” she replied. Turning around with a splash and a monstrous grin, she snatched the feather out of his hand.
    Oxley and Flare backed away. Gladwin pressed her nose against the glass jar, staring.
    The sea-witch took the shimmering red feather between her palms and began to twirl it briskly back and forth, like someone trying to start a fire with two sticks. A sweet-smelling cloud of white smoke began to rise.
    Faster and faster she rubbed the feather in between her hands. The cloud grew, engulfing her. All of a sudden, the feather crumbled into dust in both her hands. The sea-witch cackled and lifted her fists over her head to sprinkle herself with the sparkling dust.
    Even the satyr stopped munching to see what was going to happen. Inside the cloud of white smoke, a transformation was taking place.
    Lord Griffon clasped his hands together behind his back and beamed proudly, waiting a moment. “Ah, there she is, my beauty from the Irish Sea! Welcome back, my rare ocean pearl!” He put out his hand with the utmost gallantry, and from out of the cloud, a dainty white hand emerged, alighting atop his palm gracefully.
    And then the rest of a wholly changed Fionnula Coralbroom stepped out of the cloud, no longer a sea hag, but restored to what she once had been before King Oceanus had cursed her for her treachery—a dazzling beauty in an ocean-blue dress, with black hair that curled in waves all the way down to her hips.
    “Waldrick!” she greeted him in a breathy singsong.
    Flare stared at her in shock, but Oxley just shook his head as Fionnula lifted the hem of her gown and admired her own legs. “Hello, legs—limbs! Hello, pretty feet! Sweet Poseidon, I am myself again!” Making happy little noises, she pranced barefooted over to a closet and yanked away the curtain.
    Gladwin’s eyes widened again in bewilderment when she saw that the closet contained countless pairs of fancy ladies’ shoes.
    Fionnula Coralbroom’s dainty hand skimmed over her shoe collection; she almost chose a fluffy pink pair of sandals, but