by Holly Bargo
“We must contact the king. The queen fades.”
The gargoyles waited in stony silence, patient for the rest of the explanation.
“The queen pines for King Uberon. I will send each of you with a message of summons, one to the Erlking, one to the Deepwood, and one to Seelie Court.”
“That leaves one behind,” a fourth gargoyle pointed out the obvious.
“Aye. The queen’s brother can no longer undertake his duties as her guard. His health declines.”
“He is old for a human.”
“Aye. I will have whichever one of you who wishes to serve with diligence and honor to guard the queen.”
A gargoyle, a little taller and leaner than the others stepped forward. “I am not mated and have no family to protect. I will guard the queen in your stead.”
Golsat almost smiled. “No, not in my stead, but alongside me.”
The gargoyle nodded, accepting the mild correction. Golsat turned on his heel and returned to the castle, the other gargoyle following him.
No one noticed the three gargoyles taking flight early the next morning. They flew steadily, the hungry magic of the Quol sliding off them without effect.
Corinne, distracted by her elderly brother’s confinement to his bed, did not seem to notice the change in her guard. She knelt beside Samuel’s bed and held his hand, hardly daring to believe that this frail old man who struggled for breath was her brother. She remembered him tall, strong, handsome, and bursting with vitality. Glancing at Ari’valia, who now walked with a cane, she knew that her sister-in-law remembered him the same way.
Waking from a light doze, Samuel turned his head and blinked. With a weak smile, he said, “You look as pretty as the day I first woke up here.”
She smiled, unable to reciprocate. Instead she gave his hand a light squeeze. “How do you feel? Are you up to eating anything?”
“No, I’m not hungry. Where is Ari’valia?”
Corinne wanted to cringe at her brother’s querulous tone, but did not. Instead, she smiled and quietly departed as his wife took his hand and they conversed in low, whispered tones. His decrepitude appalled her and that shamed her.
“The fae have little tolerance for age and the decline it brings upon mortals,” Golsat commented in a quiet voice as he fell into step beside Corinne.
“You’ve come to know me too well,” she replied. “I don’t know why his pending death surprises me so. It’s natural and expected.”
“For a human,” he pointed out. “You have not been human in over fifty years.”
“I was human for hardly a quarter century,” she mused. “Then mated and transformed to fae. I’m not even sure how long I lived with Uberon before he abandoned me to save the world.”
She sighed. “Surely, he has saved it by now?”
Golsat had no answer to give her.
CHAPTER 28
Samuel died.
Wan and pale, Corinne wept as flames consumed the pyre and its dearly departed offering to the gods. Or God. She wondered about that and prayed anyway, hoping that her brother would be reunited with the family from whom fate had torn him. And her. Corinne watched as the granite memorial she commissioned was erected, a plain cross engraved with the crest of the Navy SEALs and his name on the crossbeam.
No one dared chase after the crystallized tears scattered on the ground.
Returning to the castle, she trailed behind Ari’valia and her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. She knew that the extended family had already decided that Ari’valia would move from the castle to live with one of them. Corinne dispatched two guards to ensure the old woman’s protection until she died.
Bereft of her husband, Ari’valia died a week later. Corinne ordered her ashes interred next to Samuel’s under the aegis of the granite cross. She looked across the brief span of rocky earth to Han’al, who leaned against her mate and sniffled with grief. Arm in arm, the two immortals walked back to the castle.
“I’m all that’s left,” Han’al whispered. “If it were not for Golsat, I would not wish to continue living.”
Corinne nodded, understanding how the former mortal felt. Han’al and Golsat had yet to be blessed with children. “I will release Golsat if you ask it, so that you and he might relocate someplace where grief does not permeate the walls.”
“Golsat will not break his vow to the king,” she answered, although resentment warred with gratitude in her eyes.
“I will speak with Golsat.”
“No,” he replied without hesitation when she broached the idea at supper. The three gargoyles dispatched to contact the king had returned in ignominy, their missions failed. He refused to fail. “Until Lord Uberon releases me, I stay.”
And that was that.
Still the years passed, the loneliness endured, and Corinne slowly withdrew. She dwindled from slender to gaunt and, except for occasional treks to the border to reinforce the protective wards that kept the kingdom safe from the Quol’s encroachment, seldom left her quarters except to sit in a sheltered courtyard where the castle murmured to her. Every night she walked to the end of the furthest pier, except during storms, to listen for a word from Uberon. She listened to the wind and clung to the infrequent assurances it brought. She lost interest in her appearance, allowing her handmaid to dress her as the servant saw fit. She ate what was put on her plate, and too little of that for the two gargoyles’ comfort.
CHAPTER 29
A letter arrived.
The seal remained unbroken, which Golsat considered a small miracle as he took it from the ship captain’s hand with a word of thanks. He hoped it was from Uberon, but the seal dashed that hope. Instead, King Mogren of the Seelie Court wrote to declare that the Lahn’Ursai had been retaken and secured against the Quol. Finally. The Seelie Court owed its everlasting gratitude to King Uberon of Quoliálfur who had been injured in the effort to save an entire continent from the lethal incursion and would remain as Mogren’s honored guest while he recuperated. The six gargoyles who had accompanied him had perished. Not even the stalwart strength and resistance of gargoyles could withstand the concerted focus of the ravenous Quol and the Quoli it sent against them.
Golsat raised his eyes to the sky to give thanks to whatever gods existed for the good news and to grieve for the loss of his comrades. Spreading his wings, he launched himself into the air and raced to the queen’s preferred courtyard.
She lay on a stone bench in a shaded spot, lightly dozing. Yet the gargoyle’s hard landing in the courtyard’s tight confines did not startle her. She blinked slowly and pushed herself to a sitting position with equal deliberation.
“What is it, Golsat?”
He handed her the letter.
Corinne’s hands trembled. She read the short missive twice, her heart beating at a rapid pace, her breath coming fast and shallow.
“Uberon,” she whispered, then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed.
“My lady!” Golsat yelped and rushed forward to pick up her crumpled form. He carried her to her chambers where handmaids fluttered about her in useless distress. He ordered them from the royal quarters and summoned his mate.
“Watch over her,” he begged Han’al. She is nearly as dear to me as you.”
“I will,” she replied.
Golsat canceled that day’s audience, gruffly dismissing all petitioners, claimants, defendants, and others who sought royal favor or decision. He summoned the three gargoyles who had failed to deliver their letters and offered them a chance for redemption.
“Go to the Seelie Court to attend King Uberon,” he ordered without indulging in explanation. “Accompany his return to Quoliálfur.”
“What happened to his guard?” one asked.
“They perished.”
Silence lay heavily upon them as each considered the might and peril required to kill six gargoyles. That the king lived impressed them beyond measure. The three gargoyles bade their families good-bye and took to the air, each carrying a
missive from Golsat to Mogren.
CHAPTER 30
Corinne waited. The tropical sun beat down upon her, yet she did not feel its heat. Saltwater slapped at the pylons and the hulls of ships, waves crashing on the shore. The wind whipped at her clothing and tugged at her unbound hair. She squinted against the glare of sunlight sparkling on the surface of the ocean.
I come.
She heard and felt the weariness in his mental voice. Her own reply echoed the exhaustion of her soul, I wait.
The day wore on. Corinne refused all offers of food and drink, all exhortations to take her rest in the shade. She stood tall and gaunt at the end of the pier and waited. As the sun dipped low to paint the sky with violet, crimson, and orange, the tall masts of a ship poked above the horizon. The white and blue banner of the Seelie Court flew from the tallest mast.
Hurry.
Impatient, Corinne lifted her arms to summon the wind and bend it to her will. Where once she blew out candles and slammed doors, she called gusts from across the ocean to propel the ship through the water as quickly as the wood could withstand. She spoke to the element, commanded it with an authority and skill never before exercised. The gargoyles flanking her stared in amazement. The unicorns who taught her how to wield her increased power in the first decade after Uberon left would have been proud.
The clop and ring of hooves upon the wooden planks of the pier drew their attention. Golsat turned around to greet the dawn and midnight swifts. Both looked exhausted, as though they had galloped without rest for days.
“My lords,” he said, bowing low and wondering how they knew to come. He did not question the means of their uncanny speed; unicorns could bend distance and time to their need. From their heaving, sweaty sides, that effort cost them dearly.
The unicorns spared him a brief glance, then turned their attention to the queen.
“Remember what we taught you,” the midnight swift said. “Finesse is just as critical as brute power.”
The two arcane beasts watched as she pulled in the ship to a rocking halt at the pier. Corinne lowered her arms and released control of the wind. Sailors shouted, springing into action to moor the vessel and extend the gangplank.
“The king first!” the ship’s captain shouted.
The sun disappeared with an eerie flash of green light that left the sky clothed in darkness but for the distant twinkle of stars, neither moon visible. Corinne paid the sudden descent of night no heed as her gaze locked upon the ship from the Seelie Court.
She inhaled and swayed on her feet when the king appeared at the ship’s railing. His face turned to her, his gaze finding hers without error or delay and holding it.
“Uberon,” she breathed and raised one hand toward him.
His lips moved, but she could not hear what he said. No matter, she knew he uttered her name.
A light breeze lifted his long, unbound hair as he limped down the gangplank. His clothing hung on his gaunt frame, not withered from maltreatment or starvation, but worn by unceasing effort that cost him energy and strength. Golsat looked from his king to his queen and realized that a good portion of the energy Uberon had used had come from Corinne.
She walked toward him, each step slow and restrained. She looked at him with wide eyes as he grew near, taking in the lines of weariness engraved upon his face, the uneven stride, and two long streaks of silver, one just right of his widow’s peak and the other at his right temple, breaking the solid black of his hair. She thought the silver made him look distinguished and wondered if he would heal from whatever injury caused the limp.
When his worn boot settled on the pier, Corinne flung herself into his arms with a cry: “Uberon!”
His arms wrapped around her as hers wrapped around him. The soul bond flared bright, the light temporarily blinding those who looked directly at it as the king and queen of Quoliálfur embraced. Even the unicorns averted their eyes from the sudden glare. The brilliant joy of reunion burned the crushing loneliness of separation to ash.
Uberon pulled away just far enough to look deeply into his mate’s shining eyes. “You’re so beautiful. I missed you more than my heart could bear.”
“I missed you, too.”
The simple words propelled them into another desperate embrace. He fisted his hand in her tangled hair to tilt her head back and slanted his mouth over hers. Their passion flared along with the soul bond. Energy crackled and sparked around them.
Finally lifting his head from hers, he swept her into his arms with a display of renewed strength and vigor. His silver eyes burned. Her jade eyes glowed.
“Uberon, we need to discuss—” the dawn swift began.
“Not now,” the king replied, cutting off the words as he began walking toward shore, his stride now strong and even.
“Uberon!” the midnight swift barked.
The king and queen of Quoliálfur ignored them. They had more important things to do.
THANK YOU!
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Thank you for reading Daughter of the Dark Moon, the third book in the Twin Moons Saga. I really hope you enjoyed it.
Like every other independently published author, I ask you to leave a review. If you have a particular question, concern, or comment about this story or any other of my books that you’d like to send directly to me, use the contact form on my website: www.henhousepublishing.com. I enjoy hearing from readers and will respond to your message.
About the Author
Holly Bargo is the author’s pseudonym and really did exist. She lives on a hobby farm in southwest Ohio with her husband and a menagerie of very spoiled, four-legged beasties. They have two adult children, one a university student and the other in the military. We thank him for his service to our country.
Readers can contact the author through the Hen House Publishing website at www.henhousepublishing.com, where she also maintains a blog. Holly enjoys hearing from readers.
