by Everly Frost
“Lady Storm…”
“It calls to me, Badenoch. I have to believe that’s for a reason.”
He’s worried. I would be too if I were him, but he eventually nods, taking a massive leap of faith with me.
I can’t ignore the hum in my ears anymore. Cassian hangs back, but the other gargoyles follow as I head further down the tunnel, finally reaching a fork. One side of the tunnel veers left into a wall of flame. It’s almost impossible to see what’s behind it or how far back the flames extend. The other side veers right and is potted with random fires but extends much farther into the distance.
At my elbow, Roar says, “The teams before us have been mining down the right hand side. Nobody can get through the wall of flame down that way.” He points left and gives me a wry smile. “I’m guessing that’s the way you’re going.”
I place my hand out in front of me. I’m about to walk through a wall of flames and honestly, I’m not sure if I’m cold enough. I glance back, searching the faces of the watching gargoyles. Shadows flicker over them now that the fires have died down. I look past Roar, Welsian, Iago, and even Llion whose trust in me was the greatest from the beginning. Past Jasper whose loyalty has been unbending, to Erit and the other team leaders, all the way back to the gargoyle who took the most convincing that freedom is worth fighting for.
Cassian hovers in the shadows. I wait for him to make a move. I wait a long time. Finally, he steps into the light, tucks his massive wings into his side and says, “Go on, Princess.”
Fearless now, I step into the flames.
Brilliant golden fire leaps away from me as if I’m the one burning it. The further I extend my hands, the further it retreats, conforming to the shape of my body for seconds before it begins to die. The rock wall hiding behind it glistens with threads of a rust-colored substance. It looks like copper, but I can’t be sure.
“I need to get through this wall. I need a pickaxe… something… anything…”
The gargoyles mumble and shift. Nobody brought anything. I didn’t exactly give them time to gather tools. I scrape my hand across the surface and place my ear against it. The touch of my skin cools any remaining heat. I can’t be sure how thick the wall is, but the hum is almost unbearable, calling me from beyond.
“Excuse me, Lady Storm,” Iago says. “May I assess the situation?”
I step back. “Of course. Thank you, Iago.”
He studies the copper seam, tracking his finger across it from left to right, further up, and then down. He closes his fist and taps it at two points, one on the left and the other on the right, that consist of clear patches of rock without as much copper. “Here,” he says. “And over here. Beneath the main seam.”
He gives way to Roar and Llion who focus on those parts of the rock. “How thick is it, Iago?” Roar asks, to which Iago replies, “About six inches.”
Roar grunts an acknowledgement. I’m not sure how they’re going to break through. I don’t see any pickaxes.
“Excuse me, Lady Storm,” Llion says, picking me up and putting me safely out of the way.
There’s a pause as he and Roar angle their wings forward and brace. I press back against the tunnel wall, waiting with everyone else…
They slam their wing daggers into the rock wall. Rock cracks and dust wafts into the air. They focus on the parts Iago showed them and follow the seam around in an oval shape. The pierce points they make with their daggers become dark dots, waiting holes. The wall cracks in multiple places but doesn’t break, fracturing beyond each impact point.
Finally, they step back, chests heaving. Roar says, “Welsian?”
“My pleasure,” Welsian answers, flexing his enormous arms and cracking his knuckles.
He chooses two spots on opposite sides and fits his fingers into the holes, bracing his giant feet against the bottom portion of the wall. The others step back.
Welsian’s muscles flex, strain. With a roar, he rips the wall right out from itself. Tiny shards scatter across the tunnel, but he’s left holding the main piece. I’m impressed. In fact, I’m impressed by all of it, from Iago to Llion and Roar to Welsian. I place my hand over my heart as Welsian leans the stone portion against the tunnel wall and gestures me inside. “Lady Storm. When you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
A soft glow spills through the opening they made, alternating between golden and white light. It glints in my eyes as I step through.
The cave beyond is several paces wide and deep, not big enough for everyone to fit inside. In the center, two pillars of stone rise up from the ground like two waves of molten rock that each froze in a crest. A stone sits at the highest tip of each.
I freeze to the spot.
Two heartstones. Not one.
I can’t find my voice. All air has left my lungs. I’m not sure how much the others can see from outside but I need Badenoch to come in here and identify which one is Prime’s heart.
I whisper, “Badenoch!”
The older gargoyle squeezes through the opening to the cave, needing to bend to make it through. His eyes shoot wide when he sees what I see. “Two!”
I can’t raise my voice above a whisper. I’m in too much shock. “Which one is Prime’s heart? You’re his descendant. You can tell me, right?”
He points to the golden one. As the light through the opening catches it, it reflects warmth, a sense of calm purpose. “It’s that one. But, Lady Storm, it doesn’t want me to be here.” He shifts slightly, his intelligent eyes studying the other heart before he takes a step back. “That other one… really doesn’t want me to be here.”
The stone on the other pedestal is pure white, glittering, a diamond the size of my fist.
At odds with what Badenoch feels, the white stone calls to me. Not like a compulsion that I can’t control, but like a kinship. A recognition of all the emotions I’ve ever felt and of who I am deep in my core. I step closer to it, studying its surface, the most dazzling stone I’ve ever seen, shining with an inner light.
Oomph. Badenoch catches me, wrapping both his arms around my waist and pulling me backward. “Don’t touch it!”
I allow him to carry me backward, placing me back on my feet at the entrance. He steps away from me as fast as he puts me down. “Forgive me for grabbing you but you can’t touch that stone. Nobody can.”
“I know, Badenoch. It will kill me.”
It’s not a stone.
It’s a piece of the moon.
It’s Queen Incorruptible’s heart.
37. Marbella Mercy
Her heart must have fallen after she became the moon, embedding itself in Mount Prime beside the heart of the one she truly loved: Prime.
“We need to tell the others.”
Outside the cave, the fires that still burn deeper inside the fifth tunnel cast an eerie light across the waiting gargoyles. Cassian remains in the shadows at the back and I have to wonder, some sixth sense asks me, did he know what I was going to find? I now know that it wasn’t Prime’s heart that was calling to me all this time—it was Incorruptible’s. Together with reading her journal tonight, it doesn’t feel like a coincidence.
Badenoch remains in front of the opening, but defers to me, indicating that I should give everyone the news.
I say, “There are two heartstones.”
The news travels through the group like the flames that used to burn in the cave. The gargoyles’ responses vary from exhilarated to fearful, turning to each other, asking questions, but by far the most common is: “What does this mean?”
“Badenoch has confirmed that one of the hearts belongs to Prime.” If that news is enough to cause a stir, the next will be worse. “The other heart belongs to Queen Incorruptible.”
Shock ripples through the gargoyles, stunning them into silence. It’s thick and heavy around me until Jasper breaks it.
He says, “That makes it the most deadly Heartstone, correct?”
“But useless to Howl,” Llion says. “Only the King coul
d have touched it.”
Cassian speaks for the first time, lifting himself off the wall at the back. “Or someone with royal blood.”
The other gargoyles step away from him. With everything that’s going on, I suspect they forgot he was there or who he is—Howl’s right hand. A dangerous threat in our midst. He seems content to ignore them as he strides toward me, forcing them to part as quickly as he walks.
Cassian reaches me, his eyes blazing, towering over me, forcing me to tilt my head back. “Someone with the royal blood of a Gargoyle Queen can use that Heartstone.”
I stare up at him, confused. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
But my eyes widen as shocking realization shoots through me: the Storm!
Cassian told me she was royal, that she was the heir to the throne before she became a force of nature. He’d arranged for me to see Incorruptible’s journal so I’d read it for myself.
What if… Cassian somehow knows that the Storm has taken the form of a female with a mind, heart, thoughts, arms, legs, everything that means she can pick up a heartstone and use it. And what if… Baelen wasn’t brought to my room as some sick perversion of Howl’s but because Cassian arranged it. Maybe he knows that the Storm stays with Baelen.
I don’t know how any of that is possible, but I do know that Cassian told me she was royal and then he brought her to see me.
My heart leaps. Elyria can use the royal heartstone. She can use the stone against Howl, strike him down, fight him, and he won’t be able to stop her—
Except… she can’t.
My hope fades, plummeting so hard, so fast, that tears fill my eyes. The Storm swore never to harm a gargoyle. She already tried to stop Howl once. She told me so herself. She may be able to pick up the heartstone, but she can’t use it to help us.
Everyone is waiting for me to speak. Cassian hasn’t taken his eyes off me and I’m sure I’m a display of intense emotions right now: all the way from wonder to hope to… smashed and crushed.
“It can’t be done.” My final emotion isn’t lost on the other gargoyles. I don’t mean it to have this result, but they respond to my grief with protective anger, knowing only that Cassian has caused it.
Erit pushes forward, nearly barreling into Cassian. “Why are you here? You’re not one of us.” Erit’s wing daggers angle forward, an aggressive gesture, and I’m reminded that he’s from the Grievous Clan who settle their disputes with violence.
I push between them before Erit does something dangerous. “Erit, listen to me, General Cassian is subject to Howl’s whims just like the rest of us.”
Erit doesn’t back off, turning on me in confusion but not in anger. His expression softens as he digests my earnest speech. “Why are you defending him?”
“Because he saved my life.” The space between them is so small that I press back against Cassian, my arms pushed against either side of him. “He saved my life when he didn’t have to.”
Cassian’s voice rumbles in his chest, a quiet statement murmured at my ear. “You don’t have to protect me, Princess. He’s correct. I don’t have any right to be here.”
“But…”
He places me to the side, putting me away from him, and faces the others, his wings tucked tight, wing daggers held carefully back, palms out, non-threatening. It occurs to me that he hasn’t worn his bone lash for the last three days. He says, “When the sun comes up, everything changes. You have to decide whether you’re going to fight or give up. Either way…” His blazing eyes meet mine before he turns away. “The Princess must not die.”
They part for him as he strides away, his steps turning into a run before he spreads his wings and soars away into the dark mine beyond.
“What happens now?” Roar asks, always the leader, focusing everyone back on task.
“First I need you to tell me what happened with Rhain. Howl can carry a heartstone around without any harm to himself, so why couldn’t Rhain? Howl used to be a gargoyle just like you, didn’t he?”
Roar says, “He was, Lady Storm. But a violent one. He killed the King years before he got hold of a heartstone and he terrorized our people even without it.”
“By brute force,” Llion adds. “And a Grievous army backing him.” He clears his throat. “I mean no offense to our clan, Erit. We are the proof that not all Grievous follow Howl.”
It was easy to forget that both Erit and Llion were born into the Grievous Clan. They are both such dedicated, loyal, and surprisingly kind gargoyles.
“No offence taken,” Erit replies. He folds his arms across his chest. “I can tell you what happened to Rhain, Lady Storm, because he was my friend.”
He tucks his wings tight into his sides. I recognize the gesture as self-protective. The gargoyles might not know they’re doing it, but they pull their wings close when they’re facing something difficult.
Erit says, “The short version is that he found the heartstone and was ordered to place it in a wooden box without touching it, which he obeyed. When he heard that Howl was coming to Mount Virtuous to get it, Rhain became very agitated. He knew that if Howl got the stone, he’d be unstoppable. So Rhain killed the guards and flew off with the box. But he also knew that Howl would kill Carmen in retaliation, so he went to free her, to escape together.”
Erit exhales, sighing into the quiet around us. The way he clenches and unclenches his fists at his sides tells me he’s fighting to remain impassive, unemotional, as he recounts what happened to his friend. “Howl caught them and Rhain opened the box. As soon as he touched the stone, he collapsed. That was the end of it.” He clears his throat. “That’s the short version.”
I know what the long version involves: the aftermath, the consequences, Rhain losing his wings, his wife forced to remain in Harem Hell. I wipe away my tears. “Thank you, Erit. You’ve helped a lot, because now I know why the heartstone didn’t hurt Howl.”
“Lady Storm?”
“Howl told me that a heartstone awakens at first touch. The first surge of deep magic is like lightning: powerful, angry, and ferocious. I know because I went through it when I became the Storm Princess.”
I shake my head, trying to dislodge the memories that flood back into me: memories of light pouring around me and unimaginable pain, but nothing so bad as my heart being torn apart because I believed that Baelen was dying in front of me while I couldn’t help him.
My voice catches as I continue. “Rhain awoke the Virtuous Heartstone. He took the brunt of its first force. If Howl had touched it first, he would have collapsed too.”
I wait for this information to sink in before continuing. “When Howl awoke Lightsworn’s heart the other day, it hurt him, but didn’t knock him unconscious because he already had a heartstone to protect him.”
Llion, Roar, Erit, Badenoch, all of the gargoyles catch on at the same time. “After the first touch, any gargoyle can use the heartstone.”
Jasper finishes for them, “Including the heartstones that Howl already has.”
“Yes,” I say, a small smile breaking across my previous sadness. “Now… I’d suggest that one of you takes the brunt of the awakening right now so we can use Prime’s heart against Howl immediately, but the problem is… Howl will feel it. The same way I felt Lightsworn’s heart awaken the other night. As soon as he feels it, he will descend on us with his entire army in tow. For now, he doesn’t know we’ve found a heartstone.” I pause again, hoping they will follow me. “Right now, we control the outcome.”
“What is your plan?”
I answer Roar’s question with a question. “Do you all trust Llion?”
Llion himself shoots surprise my way. He won’t understand yet why I’m asking, but I intend to make it clear very soon.
Roar looks around, checking every single gargoyle here. Jasper nods too and I know his support is not lost on Llion since they haven’t exactly been best buddies from the start. Llion still calls Jasper ‘Twisted Metal,’ but I sense that Jasper no longer minds.
<
br /> Roar says, “We trust Llion without question.”
“Then here’s what we need to do.”
Hours later, Llion flies me back up into the Cavity. Each team leader has quietly woken their team in turns, explained the plan, and got all of them on board. Meanwhile, Iago and a team of gargoyles have been hard at work fashioning the things we need from wood and metal, working deep inside the mine where the sound won’t carry to the sleeping guards in the Cavity. To Llion I gave the task of creating weapons for us—weapons that don’t look like weapons.
“That is a difficult task,” he said to me.
I raised my eyebrows in a mock challenge. “I was told you could make a weapon out of anything.”
He grinned. “I can.”
Now, despite the adrenaline still shooting through me, I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept all night and I won’t make it to the next one without collapsing if I don’t rest. All of the gargoyles need to use the last hours of the night to sleep as long as they can.
Llion carries me in the direction of my hammock. Our group has crept back in stages so we don’t wake the guards. I tug on Llion’s arm before we pass the Cavity’s center, whispering, “I need to see Cassian.” I’m a little embarrassed to ask because I don’t know the answer to my next question. “Where does he sleep?”
Llion halts mid-wing sweep, coasting the air for a moment. “Are you sure, Lady Storm? Can you trust him?”
“I’m sure, Llion.”
In response, he changes direction, soaring across to a concealed nook in the far side of the Cavity closest to Cassian’s bathing room. Llion places me down and indicates the darkened cave beyond. “Over there. But please be careful.”
“I will, I promise.”
“Should I wait for you?”
“No, thank you, Llion. I will ask Cassian to fly me up to my hammock.” The worry on his face makes me pause. “I trust him, Llion.”
He says, “Okay.” But he doesn’t look convinced, shooting a suspicious glare in the direction of the shadowed cave before he takes flight again.
I pause at the entrance. Webs light the way inside, but only to a point. I can’t see much beyond the first few paces. I wait for my eyes to adjust, finally making out vague outlines: a chair, a small table, and a hammock against the wall at the back with a figure lying in it. I can’t fly up to it so I pick up the chair, careful not to make too much noise while I carry it across, hoping there are no unseen obstacles along the way that might trip me.
