by Everly Frost
She storms across the anteroom. “You know what would help me more than a bath?”
Exasperation billows in my chest. She still hasn’t entered the bathing room. “What?”
“A blanket. It’s freezing cold at night and I don’t have wings to keep me warm.”
I grit my teeth. “Well, you’re getting a bath instead.”
She shoves the door open, but her anger evaporates instantly. I don’t think she realizes she voiced her thoughts when she whispers, “An actual bath.”
She crosses to it immediately, trailing her fingertips through the water, her eyes closing and a sigh leaving her lips. I guess she missed baths more than she let on. She quickly shakes herself, pressing her lips together and turning back to me, her chin up and her pleasure hidden. “Okay, I’m here. You can go now.”
Not possible. There’s too much tension among the miners to leave her alone. The only reason I sleep at all is because Llion is right beside her. He owes her a blood debt and won’t let anyone touch her—even if remnants of her storm power light up the cavern ceiling at night, drawing the other males like moths to a flame. The first night, they gathered in a swarm near her hammock while she slept, whispering about the strange crystalline Elyria web forming above her position. Llion threatened that if they dared come any closer, he’d break their arms. Roar and the other members of her team echoed his pledge. But it wasn’t until I cracked my bone lash that the mob dispersed. Marbella slept through the whole thing and seemed oblivious in the morning.
If anything happens to her, Howl will come raging into the mountain. Nobody wins if that happens.
I close the door, take a seat, and stretch my legs, crossing one boot over the other, feigning nonchalance. She’ll just have to get in the bath fully clothed, no matter how dirty it will make the water.
She frowns. “Are you leaving or…?”
“Or.”
Her eyes narrow, and her glare is so fierce it could flay the skin off me. When her gaze shifts, I admire the way she’s looking for a weapon, but there’s not much she can use. I reach for my bone lash, casually resting it against my thigh. She needs to wash already.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight, Marbella. Now bathe.”
“Fine.” Her dagger-filled gaze doesn’t ease up, but to my relief, she finally pulls off her boots. Except that she doesn’t stop there, rapidly unbuttoning her shirt, ripping it off along with her pants and hurling them both onto the bench. Before I can stop her, she flings off her underpants and bra and pitches them against the wall, where they slap in the sudden silence.
Holy fuck.
I leap to my feet, my heart hammering an intense beat. I was not expecting her to do that. Nor was I expecting what the sight of her would do to me.
She plants her hands on her hips, completely naked and completely beautiful. All the way from her filthy hair to her perfect toes.
Rational thought scatters as my body’s response takes control, freezing me to the spot. My head fills with the memory of her storm scent, her soft hair cascading across my arms, her hand pressed against my heart. I remember long ago, what it felt like to kiss someone who wanted to kiss me back.
Her expression dares me to touch her as she stoops to pick up the bucket, slipping it through the water to fill it. She tips her head back, arching her spine as she empties the entire bucket over her head. Water cascades down her face and neck, flowing across her breasts, hips, and thighs before trailing down her calves, tiny rivers that make me want to run my fingertips along their path. This time, she doesn’t hide her moan of pleasure as the warm water sloshes over her body.
Her moan overwhelms my senses. I need her to make that sound because of me, because of my hands, not the water. Need. Want. No…
She reaches into the bath to fill the bucket again.
I can’t watch the water cascade over her body again in places I suddenly want to touch. Not without crossing the distance between us, and I would never touch her like that unless she asked me to.
I have to leave.
I give myself a savage shake and force my feet to move, opening the door and closing it again. Quietly. Making sure I don’t startle her. I stare at the closed door, press my hands against it, and try to breathe some sense into myself.
It’s suddenly quiet inside the bathing room, only the faint trickle of water a reminder of her curves. I count the heartbeats until I sense her move again.
Her quiet sob reaches my ears.
Damn and fuck. What did I just do?
I drop into a seat in the anteroom, curving my wings around myself.
In the last ten years, I’ve done terrible things. I allowed my brethren to be maimed so they wouldn’t be slaughtered. It’s my fault Rhain lost his wings—the only punishment short of death that I could suggest that Howl would accept. I locked Llion up and told him his wife was dead so he wouldn’t look back when he escaped, knowing that Howl would kill him otherwise.
But in the last ten years, I’ve never disrespected a female. The first female Howl sent to me was terrified. I gave her my bed and slept on the floor. But I kept her close, knowing that if she appeared to belong to me, she wouldn’t be abused by the other males. Over time, I gathered my own small harem of females, those who had no other protection, making it clear that they were mine, even though they only warmed my bed when they chose to, not because I expected it. When a Grievous male slapped one of my females on her backside, I cut off his hand. Don’t touch what’s mine. It was a message that even the Grievous gargoyles understood.
Quietly, one by one, I found the females safe places to live far from the palace, some as matrons in orphanages, others picking fruit in the fields among other females. I keep an eye on all of them, making sure nobody threatens them.
I tell myself I’m trying to protect Marbella the same way I protected them, but I can’t reconcile my physical response to her. More than physical. A deep need I haven’t felt for a very long time. Dammit, why did she have to remind me of Elaina?
I jolt out of my chair, seeking safety in movement to calm my thoughts, hoping for redemption by retrieving a blanket from the cupboard at the side of the room. I grip it as I return to my chair and lean forward, my elbows on my knees. I stare at my hands—my enormous fists. I could crush her. That’s what she sees when she looks at me. A captor with dangerous fists and a bone lash.
When she opens the door, I leave my wings where they are, curved around my shoulders in a gesture of remorse. I’m not sure if she’ll recognize it, whether she understands that gargoyles communicate our emotions with our wings as much as we speak with our mouths.
It sounds like a useless apology when I say, “I didn’t expect you to do that.”
Her expression is blank. “You thought I’d try to cover up, at least turn around, get into the bath fully clothed maybe?”
“Yes.” I lift myself from my seat, holding the blanket where she can see it. I don’t want to shove it at her.
The truth is unsettling, but I speak it anyway. “I didn’t see it before, but now I do.”
“See what?”
I meet her eyes, trying and failing to forget the sound of her moan. “Why Howl finds you intoxicating.”
I pass her the blanket. She accepts it, her face pale at my admission.
Moving to the side, I allow her to choose whether she stays or goes.
She chooses to leave, and I know it’s for the best.
26. Marbella Mercy
The next morning, Cassian orders me to wait in the open area in the center of the Cavity while my team and the other gargoyles disappear into the tunnels. He is quiet and reserved, his orders short and concise. A group of guards remains around the opening to the shaft. Another group forms a crescent behind me. Security seems much more alert today.
Once the miners are well and truly out of sight and the faint sounds of clanging metal indicates they’ve started work, Cassian signals a guard waiting at the entrance to the Cavity—the bottom of the ram
p with the mine carts attached to it. The guard flies up and out of sight and I can only assume he’s flying to the surface.
We wait another five minutes.
A breeze kicks up around me moments before a strong whooshing sound reaches me. It’s different to the hum I heard when Cassian brought the King’s bones to the food hall for choosing.
This is wings. Lots of wings.
A swarm of gargoyles shoots through the opening, pulling up high in the Cavity roof to slow down before settling to the ground. There are maybe fifteen of them, all carrying crates attached to their boots. Black robes cover their bodies from head to foot, complete with veils covering their faces, but their gossamer wings give them away. They’re all female.
Sliding their feet out of the straps on top of the baskets before settling down, most of them head directly toward the tool room, ignoring me completely. Two hook their baskets over their arms and head in my direction.
“The miners don’t know,” Cassian says at my elbow. “Once each week, the females from Slave Station bring clean clothing and linens and take away the dirty ones. They also replenish our food supplies. The miners think the cooking staff take care of it all. You are not to tell your team or any of the other gargoyles what you’ve seen today.”
The two females reach me, holding out their baskets. They don’t remove their veils so I have no idea who they are underneath.
One of the females says, “We’ve brought provisions for the Princess.”
Cassian clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of ‘provisions.’ I roll my eyes at him but smile at the females. I’m happy to see them whoever they are.
Cassian says to them, “You may use the food hall to show the Princess what you’ve brought. Once the door is closed, you may remove your veils. Nobody else will enter while you are there. I will knock when your time is up.”
Provisions and the whole place to ourselves. It’s practically a party. All of my worry about what was going to happen today disappears. I lead the females to the food hall and wait for the cooking staff to vacate the room and the door to close behind them.
Gilda and Carmen remove their veils, smiling at me. They both wear their gorgeous hair pulled back into tight buns, but they can’t hide their beautiful wings. The patterns in them catch the light of the spider webs around us. “Hello, Princess.”
I surprise them by embracing each of them. “I’m glad to see you, Gilda. Carmen.” I shake my head in disbelief. “But Cassian said all of you were from Slave Station. How did you get permission to come here from Harem Hall?”
“Howl chose us personally. He probably thinks it will remind you of his threats at Crimson Court. To make sure you’re still behaving yourself.”
My happiness fades as I remember the way he hurt Carmen that day, telling me he’d kill her if I didn’t obey him. “Well, you can assure him, I’m following the rules. I even had a bath when I was told to.”
Gilda laughs, an infectious sound in the empty room. “I thought you were looking remarkably clean after spending a week in the mines.” Her smile fades. “You should know that we’re required to report back to Howl about your behavior, appearance, demeanor, basically everything about you that we witness today.”
A wry answering laugh wrenches out of me. No wonder Cassian wanted me clean and presentable. “I guess Howl misses me.”
They exchange glances. Carmen tucks some stray hairs behind her ear. “He’s been in a particularly bad mood since he sent you away.”
I study their faces and hands, wherever their skin is exposed. I’m looking for bruises. If he’s taking out his bad mood on them… A sigh builds inside me. Knowing that I can’t do a damn thing about it is killing me.
“What about my friends?” I ask. “The Phoenix and Baelen Rath?”
“I’m sorry, we haven’t seen either of them since that day at Court. But Howl did say something…” Carmen looks to Gilda. “Something about trophies? What was it?”
Gilda purses her lips, recalling, “He said he put his trophies in the Royal Residence. That’s his home. It sounded like he meant your friends. As well as the High Priestess.”
“Former High Priestess,” I correct her.
She sighs. “Ah, yes, we all know the new High Priestess got away, but nobody dares to call Howl out about it. As long as he claims to have the High Priestess, we all agree that’s what she is.” She changes the subject. “Here, let me show you what we’ve brought you.”
Among the objects that spill out of the baskets are a hairbrush, toothbrush, two sets of Marbella-sized work clothing, and another blanket, much warmer looking than the one Cassian gave me. Not to mention the things I’ll need when my cycle comes around. There’s even a bag to keep everything in. I close my eyes with gratitude. “Thank you.”
Gilda snatches up the hairbrush. “You may be clean, but you’re in need of some grooming. May I?”
I’m glad she’s gentle. My hair has become a bird’s nest, made worse by its length, my tresses knotted from my scalp to my waist.
“We heard the tunnels here are some of the most dangerous,” Carmen says.
“I haven’t seen any of the other mountains, but the fourth and fifth tunnels are the worst. They’ve put us in teams and nobody wants to mine those two tunnels.” I skip the part about us fighting for tunnels. I’m sure Cassian will have reported back to Howl about my fight with Arlo. No need to worry Gilda or Carmen about it.
Carmen asks, “The teams can’t help each other?”
Oh boy. How to explain that the teams are basically in competition with each other? “We aren’t allowed to.”
As she runs the brush through my hair, prying apart the worst knots with her fingers, Gilda asks, “Do you talk to many of the gargoyles here?”
It’s a casual question, but Carmen immediately shoots warning daggers at her. I’m not sure why until I remember that Roar had said that Howl’s harem is made up of the wives of the gargoyles most likely to oppose him. Gilda’s husband could be any of the males here. I have no idea which one and even in this empty room, I don’t dare to ask outright.
I remain equally casual, saying, “My team has four males.” I pause after I say each of their names, waiting in case Gilda gives me a signal. If I know which one she wants to hear more about, then I can tell her. “The males in my team are: Llion, who you saw at Crimson Court, Iago… Welsian… and Roar.”
Gilda tugs my hair as soon as I say ‘Roar.’ I hope I’ve read the signal right because I continue speaking. “Roar is my team leader. He has these amazing wings with a blue pattern on them that reminds me of Elyria web. Sometimes I think the pattern glows. He’s very strong, never takes unnecessary risks, always looks after his team. He didn’t want to choose me at first. I guess he thought I’d be a liability.” I smile, genuinely meaning it when I say, “I don’t hold it against him.”
I clasp my hands in front of me on the table. “He misses his wife. I’m pretty sure he would do anything to get her back. But he won’t endanger her either. He stays alive for her.”
Gilda is very quiet behind me. I can’t see her face. She sniffles. Across the table, Carmen’s eyes fill with tears for her friend, but it would be dangerous for either of them to break down.
Carmen gulps, takes a deep breath, and quickly changes the subject to distract Gilda. “Speaking of Elyria light, I’m surprised you haven’t found it a problem, Princess. Most elves would struggle to see properly underground.”
“I’ve adjusted and now I love it actually. It’s warm and welcoming, and I can see the color changes, like in the morning when it turns green. I miss the sun though. I guess it’s in my nature as an elf to miss the sun that the ancient Elven Queen gave her life to become.”
“Just as we love the moon,” Gilda says, her voice shaky but returning to normal. She leans down to my ear and whispers, “Thank you, Princess.”
She finishes tying my hair just as there’s a loud knock at the door. She and Carmen quickly flip thei
r veils over their faces and retrieve their baskets. By the time I turn around, they look exactly like they did when they came in.
“Thank you for coming,” I say. Words aren’t enough for the gratitude I feel right now and not just because they brought me the basic necessities. For a few moments, I remembered what it was like to have female friends, to be surrounded by kind, caring females. I miss them the moment they take flight outside the food hall, joining the swarm of other females accompanied by guards.
I turn to Cassian, the bag of supplies filling my arms. Without thinking, I say, “I really want to put this in my hammock. Can you help me?”
He frowns from me to the ceiling, eyebrows pulled down, shoulders hunched. His response is clipped and dangerous. “How do you think I’m going to do that?”
I back away. I really didn’t think my request through. A cold chill speeds down my spine. He allowed Gilda and Carmen to speak with me, but he’s not my friend. Now he’s either insulted because I talked to him like he’s my errand boy (bad move, Marbella) or he’s considering flying me up there himself which would involve standing much closer to him than I’m prepared for. Considering he’s seen me naked, very bad move.
“Sorry.” I stumble as I step backward, righting myself just in time. “I forgot where I was for a moment.”
Two more quick steps back, I spin and hurry away.
Not fast enough.
Two fully spread wings snap together in front of me, forcing me to a halt.
27. Cassian
She’s asking me to fly her up to her hammock—one of the purest gestures of trust a female can show a male. The kind of gesture she shouldn’t make with me. Llion has flown her up and back many times, but his blood debt and the fact that he has a wife means that it’s an act of assistance only. Likewise, when Roar flies her anywhere, it’s out of pure necessity. But for her to ask me…
