by Everly Frost
“Baelen Rath’s mother and unborn sister.”
My wail cuts across the clearing, sharp and painful. I double over, trying to breathe. Baelen’s mother… his sister… their deaths had such a profound impact on him and left his House without a future. Baelen’s father was a fierce but wise elf who would have recognized the Command’s sorcery much sooner than I did. Gideon Glory struck right at his heart, trying to break him, the same way Grayson tried to break Baelen: by taking away what he loves the most.
“After I made you Storm Princess and you showed signs of controlling the storm, the Elven Command took what they already knew about me and put the pieces together. They know you are the rightful heir.”
Elyria runs her hand through my hair, trying to comfort me. “I sank all of my rage into the storm to avenge my family. You avenged Baelen’s family when you killed Gideon Glory. But now your greatest battle is ahead of you. I’m sorry, Marbella. I’m sorry to tell you these things. But now you know everything.”
Tears drip down my cheeks. A drastic change of air pressure alerts me moments before Baelen drops to the earth beside the lake, his feet pounding in my direction. He felt my pain. “What happened?”
Elyria intercepts him, placing her hand over his heart. “She weeps for you, Baelen Rath.”
Elyria heads toward Jasper who is striding up the slope toward us, concern written all over his face. She takes his hand and speaks with him for a moment. He casts a worried glance in our direction before following her back to the cabin.
Baelen takes a knee in front of me. He reaches for my hand, quietly checking me over. “Marbella?”
This great, giant of an elf who can literally rip a shadow panther apart with his bare hands is so concerned about me, so careful with my hand, that I just want to cry harder. I swallow my tears and tell him everything.
I start with Elyria’s story, the Elven King’s treachery, and the consequences of me taking her soul. Then I tell him about Grayson’s mother, her vision of Earth’s surface, the Elven Command’s plans, the threat to the deep springs, the consequences if the springs are destroyed—and the fact that I’m the only one who can kill Grayson. Last of all, I tell him about his mother and sister.
Baelen cycles through every emotion—emotions he isn’t afraid to show in front of me: anger, shock, disbelief, rage, and finally… grief. He bends his head over my hand, dropping his forehead to it, and stays like that for a long time. Quiet.
Finally, he says, “We will end this.”
I nod. “One way or another.”
When we return to the cabin, Jasper is collecting his weapons and Elyria is packing a satchel of clothing.
I try to stop them. “You don’t have to come back with us.”
“If the Elven Command wins the war, this valley will be rubble within a week,” Jasper says, sliding his sword into its scabbard. He turns to Baelen. “I’m going to need new armor.”
Jasper’s last armor was beaten up before we even arrived in Erador. It was so damaged that Llion gave him the nickname Twisted Metal.
“I have the perfect armor for you,” Baelen replies as they descend down the steps together.
I reach for Elyria. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
She covers my hand with her own. “I’m ready to heal my wing. I’m ready to face the world again.” Her smile turns wonky as she rolls her eyes. “As a new gargoyle-slash-elf-slash-whatever-I-am.”
She hasn’t once judged me for taking away her power, but as I observe the way she seeks Jasper’s help climbing onto the Phoenix’s strong back, taking his hand without hesitation, I realize that she doesn’t want the storm power anymore. She’s happier without it. I pause a moment, wondering if she knows the way Jasper looks at her, wondering if they’ve told each other how they feel. Because it’s plain as day to me: Jasper loves Elyria and she loves him back. I hope they don’t leave it too late to tell each other.
Jasper’s smile becomes fainter the further we fly away from the valley. By the time we reach Mount Erador, he has become deadly serious and increasingly protective of Elyria. I’ve chosen to sit behind Baelen this time so I can look back to the both of them more easily.
After we finish off the food we brought with us while we fly, she whispers to him, “I’m okay,” but he doesn’t seem convinced.
He calls to me from where he sits behind her with his arms wrapped carefully around her. “Can you take us directly to the deep springs?”
“Of course.” I speak to the Phoenix and we eventually set down right outside them. The ledge outside the opening to the springs is cast golden in the late afternoon sunlight, the cliff face above it a soaring expanse of mottled brown and gray rock.
Elyria takes a deep breath before she slides off the Phoenix. “I’m ready.”
I give them space as they head inside, but as soon as they’re gone, I spin to Baelen. I don’t even have to say it.
He gives me a knowing look, his eyes twinkling. “I don’t think they’ve admitted it, let alone acted on it.”
I can’t help but smile. “Can you give Jasper a nudge?”
“Hmm. No.” He grins. “She’s a gargoyle who will follow the gargoyle way. It’s up to her, remember?”
I blush. All that ‘going to his bed’ business. “Okay, so her relationship with Jasper aside, what is the best way to protect her now? She used to be untouchable and I’m worried she’ll forget she’s vulnerable now.”
“I think we have two choices: one is to take her to Rath land. The Elven Command is less likely to focus their attack there because it’s too far north to provide a good pathway to the springs. Also, the elven army will be more reluctant to attack other elves. On the other hand, it’s closer to the front of the battle.”
“Our other option?”
“Keep her here in the Royal Residence.”
“But this is their target.”
“It is… but Indira had an idea that I supported… And given that I now know the deep springs must be protected at all costs…”
He glances up.
I follow his gaze.
The cliff face shifts above me. Pieces of mottled brown and gray rock slide away from each other, pulling out and up, rising and taking on new forms: muscled legs, broad wings, determined faces. Almost the entire cliff face peels off as seventy gargoyles materialize. From beneath their massive wings, smaller gargoyles emerge, all female, all armored and armed to the teeth.
There is only one clan whose wingspan is broad enough to hide other gargoyles within it: Hideaway. And there is only one clan whose females are as ferocious as these: Grievous.
Baelen leans in to me. “Indira made an agreement with the Hideaway Clan. She said that both Grievous and Hideaway made up the greatest numbers in Howl’s army and that they owed the royal line a debt.”
I chuckle. “She guilted them into this?”
“Actually, I think they would have done it regardless. The respect you showed Cassian didn’t go unnoticed. He was apparently very protective of his clan. He kept many of them alive when Howl would have killed them.”
Bethany and the other females fly down to the ledge, followed by the males. There are so many of them that they fill the space and some have to hover above us. They either take a knee or bow their heads. “Supreme Incorruptible, we honor you.”
“I am honored,” I reply. “And grateful that you will protect the deep springs from the elves.”
Bethany saunters toward me, stopping with her hands on her hips, beaming at me. “Supreme Incorruptible, I hope we meet your expectations.”
“This is… truly amazing, Bethany. Thank you. Is Gretel safe?”
“She stayed on Mount Grievous along with a quarter of our females. I hope you understand, we still need to protect our homes from the panthers.”
“Definitely. The more of those beasts you kill, the better.”
As the gargoyle warriors disperse, the Phoenix breaks into my thoughts. It says, I will also be here to protect the
springs.
Phoenix?
It shakes its feathers, shivering hot sparks into the air around me like fireflies. Opening its mouth, I catch sight of fire rumbling in its throat. I was born in the age of dragons, it says. I will pour molten wrath over anyone who dares approach this place.
I consider the firebird with awe. Thank you, Phoenix.
Running footsteps draw my attention back to the entrance to the springs. Jasper shoots through the opening, skidding to a halt beside me before he slides right off the cliff.
“Jasper!”
“Marbella, come quickly.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She… Elyria…” Trusting me to follow him, he runs back in the direction he came from. Baelen is close on my heels as we descend through the wide entrance into the tunnel, racing along the pathway lit by spider web. The cavern at the end glistens a rainbow of colors around us while the rhythmic single water drop echoes in the silence.
Elyria stands toward the middle of the pond but at the shallower side nearest us. She is wet and shaking, immersed to her waist, eyes wide, chest heaving.
I frown as we pull to a halt at the water’s edge. Elyria doesn’t look quite right…
“I came here to heal my wing.” She presents her back, speaking over her shoulder through chattering teeth. “But now my wings are gone.”
32. Marbella Mercy
My first instinct is to rush into the water and drag her out of there, but my next instinct is to stay as far away from the pond as possible.
Water drips from the ends of her hair as she shivers. “I thought I was prepared for anything, but it turns out I’m not. I don’t know what I am now.”
It only takes me a heartbeat to know. “Elyria! You’re… human!” When I first saw Llion’s baby girl all that time ago, I thought she was a human baby because of her rounded ears and delicate skin. Only her wings told me she was a gargoyle. Without our pointed ears and the luster of our skin, elves could appear human too. Male gargoyles are the furthest from human in appearance. Now, without wings, Elyria looks just like I imagine a human looks.
“Human!” Elyria takes a step back, splashing involuntarily as her legs buckle.
Jasper jolts beside me. He’s ready to race into the springs to help her but he pauses before his foot hits the water. His hesitation tells me that, like me, he doesn’t want to go in. I study the waves, the sparkle within them, casting my gaze upward to the single drip falling from the ceiling. I’m not afraid of the springs themselves, but some instinct tells me not to go in there at the same time as Elyria. The deepest magic is at play here to cause this final stage of her transformation. That sort of magic should be treated with the greatest respect.
Remembering Senturi’s advice that Jasper is the only one who can help Elyria, I withdraw to Baelen’s position off to the side, reaching for his hand.
A tear tracks down Elyria’s cheek. She’s frozen, panicking, unable to move.
Jasper’s soft inhalation is both worried and determined. He hovers at the water’s edge before he seems to make a decision. “Elyria, come out. You’ll be okay.”
She shakes her head, wet hair slapping against her small waist. “I don’t think I can.”
Instead of softening his approach, Jasper becomes stern, an insistent frown settling on his forehead. “Come out of there, baby.”
Her eyes widen, surprised at what he called her, before she gives way to panic again. With a small shake of her head, tears spill down her cheeks. “I can’t, Jasper.”
“Then you’re never going to know what I want to say to you.”
Her body language shifts, a flicker of curiosity overcoming her fear. She takes a step, but the water swills and laps at her hips and she sucks in a breath. “What if I can’t come out? What if I disappear? I died four hundred years ago. What if my wings are just the beginning…”
Jasper’s jaw tenses, his eyebrows drawn down. “You know I won’t let that happen.”
His response seems to jolt her out of her panic. She pushes through the water, inhaling sharply as it washes around her, jumping at every splash. She reaches the stone steps at the side, ascends, but stops on the top one, her feet mere inches beneath the surface, water spilling from her clothing, fear washing over her so fast that she turns deathly pale.
He is three paces away but he doesn’t close the gap, waiting for her to take the last step on her own. When it’s clear she’s not going to budge, Jasper plants his feet, but he visibly relaxes.
“Elyria,” he says softly, making her crane forward to hear him. “I want you to come here because I want to tell you…”
She tips forward. “What?” she whispers. “Tell me what?”
“You’ll never know if you don’t take a chance.”
She worries at her lip as she stares at the final step between them. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m scared.”
His posture doesn’t change. He’s still relaxed, but his voice takes on an edge. “I won’t hurt you. Ever.”
I’m surprised, but I shouldn’t be. Jasper has Sight and he must have seen that it’s not only the water and its effect on her body that she’s afraid of now, but of what her relationship with Jasper will become. It’s plain to me that he loves her but sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you. The uncertainty must be killing her.
She sucks in a breath. “That’s not true. You’ll break my heart.”
He considers her words in true Jasper style, without fuss, taking them in like a wave sweeping up over him before responding. “Love can’t break your heart, Elyria. Only mend it.”
Elyria is the polar opposite in her reaction. She’s suddenly a hot mess, tears streaking down her cheeks. “You can’t mend my heart, Jasper Grace. Nothing can do that.”
“If that’s what you choose.” He’s still incredibly calm; much calmer than I would be. But just when I think that’s all he’s going to say, the corners of his mouth move in an upward direction. A slow smile breaks across his face.
Yeah. I’m never going to get used to seeing that.
Elyria suddenly sobs, gasping, pressing her hand against her heart. “Are you… smiling at me right now?”
He shrugs, slowly, deliberately. “I guess I am. Because I just realized something.”
“Wh-what’s that?”
“You wouldn’t be so upset if you didn’t love me back.”
She hiccups and cries at the same time. “I… what?”
That same slow, compelling smile rests on his lips. “Come here, baby.”
“Okay,” she whispers. She climbs the last step and sloshes to him, her wet feet slapping on the stone. She’s drenched, wingless, barefoot, and completely vulnerable as she turns her face up to his.
He gently brushes her hair back from her forehead, searching her eyes before he brushes soft kisses against her cheeks and finally kisses her lips. She melts into him, their bodies drawing closer to each other.
Baelen and I take glances at each other and quietly leave them alone, heading up the pathway and out into the open where the Phoenix patiently waits for us.
Baelen grins. “No nudging necessary.”
I lean into his side, urging his arm around me as I contemplate the setting sun. “It’s too late to head back to Rath land now. Let’s stay the night here at the Residence.”
“Good,” he growls, pulling me flush against him, dropping a lingering kiss on my lips. “They have bigger beds here.”
My heart flutters and my pulse speeds up. I blush as one of the gargoyles higher up on the cliff clears his throat—a gentle reminder that we’re not alone. Baelen doesn’t seem to care, kissing me again before we approach the Phoenix.
I ask it: Can you come back for Jasper and Elyria? And bring them to the Residence?
The firebird answers: With pleasure. Then it pauses before asking, Have they finally admitted what they feel?
They have.
The firebird chu
ckles. It’s about time.
Llion, Liliana, and Talia are waiting for us when we reach the Residence, along with the old Priestess. I embrace each of them and marvel at how the babies have started walking in the last month. Liliana is glowing and Llion seems happier than I’ve ever seen him. To my surprise, Talia hugs me the hardest. My skin tingles with the same strange sensation I always feel when she is close by—how her deep magic is like a force around me.
“Thank you,” she says. “For saving our lives on the cliff.”
I’m surprised when all of my gargoyle friends arrive over the course of the evening: Welsian, Arlo, Iago, Roar, and Gilda, even Rhain and Carmen. Then Indira and Erit fly in with a group of strong male gargoyles who carry Reisha, Jordan, and all of my Storm Command with them. All of my ladies are here.
They tell me that Sebastian and Eli have remained behind in Rath land to help my brother continue to protect it—and that Elise is still too weak to travel, but my ladies have seen the healers and are fully recovered. They look so much better than the day before: bright-eyed, determined, all of them smiling again. Several of them give me wide-eyed blushes as they talk about the males who flew them here. Each of my ladies gave up a normal life to join my Storm Command; most of them have never had boyfriends, let alone got up close and personal with a male like they would have when they were flown here. I try to hide my smile but don’t quite succeed, ending up laughing and joking with them.
Later, Senturi makes an appearance with little Adalie who runs to the babies to hold their hands as they totter around the room.
To their credit, none of my friends seems to care that Senturi and Adalie are Sighted, speaking with them openly and welcoming them to the dinner table.
When Elyria and Jasper arrive, the gargoyles and elves welcome them too, making room for them and filling their plates with food. Nobody asks about Elyria’s wings and my heart swells to realize that race and appearance no longer matter in my kingdom.
After dinner, we sit around the glowing fire in the meeting hall and my friends take turns giving me updates about our preparedness for battle. Only Iago has a different kind of news, proudly telling me that the new home for the orphans and priestesses is half complete already.
