“But,” Greenborrow continued, “that’s my point. We saw the remains of the Riven and felt the echo of the magic used to do the damage. That was not dryad magic.”
Lillian fisted her hands against her thighs. “First I am a human, and then I’m not a human. Next I’m a dryad and now I’m not a dryad. What do you think I am?”
“I didn’t say you weren’t a dryad, only that the magic used wasn’t dryad magic.”
“My gargoyle can string together better sentences. Say what you mean or leave me alone.”
Gregory tightened his hold on her shoulders. “The leshii is older than the others, and his memories run deeper. He recognizes what we are, or has, as you would say, put two and two together.”
“Huh?”
Greenborrow clapped his hands together. “Ah, I’m right.”
Gregory tightened his hold on Lillian’s shoulders and his tail lashed, both signs he was faced with something he’d rather leave untouched. Curious, Lillian craned her neck to meet his eyes. “What is he talking about? Please tell me.”
“Very well. The time for secrets is past. I have tested everyone here; there is no recent darkness on any of your souls.” He paused and looked at the pooka and the banshee. “I will share a truth with you.” Gregory’s voice rumbled over her head, darker and more sinister than she’d ever recalled hearing. “If you want the truth, stay. But you shall never repeat this to anyone outside of this meadow—you will not be able to for my weaving will steal your words. After you’ve heard what I have to say, if any of you try to harm my lady, I will steal more than your words, I will escort the betrayer to the Spirit Realm myself. Stay or go, the choice is yours. I will give you a few minutes to decide among yourselves.”
Even immortals could be shocked into silence. Lillian didn’t take comfort in that fact, though. What was so terrible about her past that Gregory would kill to keep it secret?
After his ultimatum, Gregory turned and marched over to her tree. He merged with the shadows to await the Council’s decision. When Lillian realized all the faces had switched from following the gargoyle to staring at her, she lost her nerve and bolted after the gargoyle.
She probed the shadows until she caught him, then locked her fingers around his arm. “What are you doing?”
“Giving the truth.”
“Like the stuff you told me last night about our history?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t make me swear some kind of death oath.”
“No.”
She clinched her jaw. His one word answers were scaring her. “If we’re going to trust each other, you need to fill in some details.”
“What I reveal will be more than I’ve told you.” He sighed. “While I have not lied to you, I have not told you the full truth. I hope you can forgive me.”
Gran came over to them before Lillian could ask what he was talking about.
“The others are in agreement,” Gran said with a glance over her shoulder at the other tense-faced individuals waiting at the picnic tables. She frowned and Lillian wondered if Gran was annoyed that Gregory hadn’t told her everything up front. Gran wasn’t the only one.
After a moment, Gran schooled her expression and continued. “We agree to Gregory’s terms. If there is a secondary danger to us beyond the Riven, then we need to know what it is and how to protect ourselves.”
The gargoyle bowed his head in acknowledgment and followed Gran back to the table. Lillian trailed after, unsure if she wanted to hear what he’d kept secret.
Gregory didn’t sit. He seldom did, but now he stood unmoving, like he’d grown roots. “As Greenborrow already guessed, I am not just a gargoyle and Lillian is not just a dryad. She is the Mother’s Sorceress and I am the Father’s Gargoyle Protector. We are the Avatars of the Divine Ones, born to fulfill their purpose, to maintain the balance and hunt down evil intent on upsetting that balance.” He paused, his head bowed, like he fought for words.
The silence was so complete Lillian would have heard a hummingbird if one flew across the glade at that moment. She stepped up next to Gregory and placed her hand in his. He glanced sideways at her and nodded his head. “Lillian does not remember who she is because I stole her memories.”
Lillian’s mind blanked at his words, too stunned to function. White noise filled her ears. It took her a few seconds to realize it was the buzz of conversation she heard. The other fae creatures at the table were shouting questions. She shouted louder than the others. “What? You … you stole my memories?” She jerked away from Gregory. Horror opened a hollow in her gut which betrayal quickly filled with bitterness. “Why?”
She had trusted him. All this time, he’d been responsible for the void in her mind where her childhood memories should have been.
Everyone at the table fell silent.
“I could not trust you because of where I found you.”
“Yesterday you told me you rescued me from my abductor, the Lady of Battles. You saved me from whatever she had planned.”
“I said I had rescued you from her, not that she had abducted you. And I’m not even sure if I’ve thwarted her plans.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A gargoyle stays in his mother’s tree for ten years before he is birthed fully mature. A dryad carries her daughters for only three. When we were both eight, you called me from my mother’s tree early, so I could rescue you from the Lady of Battles’ domain: the place where you had been conceived, born, and lived for eight years.”
Conceived. Born. Not kidnapped. His word shook her soul like felled trees crashing to the ground.
He continued, unaware he was trampling her fragile sense of truth. “From the time of your birth, and perhaps while you were still within your mother’s tree, you were shaped to become a tool for the Lady of Battles. I escaped with you, and then, too weak to return home to the Magic Realm, I came here.”
“Oh my God. You couldn’t trust me,” Lillian said as she thought of something worse. “You were afraid of me, of what the Lady could make me do.”
He didn’t answer her right away, and that was enough to start a chill crawling up her spine.
“The Lady of Battles might have been using you as bait to lure me to her. Once she had us both, she may have planned to make us serve her by threatening the other. I don’t sense any evil upon you. When first I found you, there was a dark taint, but here in this place, far from the dark one’s influence, you may have managed to purify yourself.”
She heard the doubt in his voice. “But you took my memories and still haven’t given them back. You’re afraid.”
“I can’t risk this world until I know for certain what she did to you.”
Lillian grabbed the edge of the table to stop her hands from trembling while she calmed the churning in her soul. It made sense now. Gregory hadn’t betrayed her; he’d done what he could to protect her—but not just her; everyone else, too. If she wasn’t such a fool, she’d have seen that sooner. They were two halves of one soul—she could only imagine what keeping this secret had cost Gregory. Placing her hand in his, she touched his thoughts and projected her understanding and thanks, and then intertwined their fingers. “How will you find out if I’m a threat, and how will you deal with it if I am?”
“We need time.” He squeezed her fingers and then turned to the others sitting at the tables. “If I am given time, I think I can heal whatever was done to my Mistress. In a way, being trapped in this realm was a blessing. The Lady of Battles cannot reach into this realm from her prison, and likely has no idea what happened to the Sorceress. As long as we stay here, I think Lillian will be safe. At least for a little while.” He paused with a long look for the silver-skinned leader of the sidhe. “For the first time in many, many years, I find myself in need of allies. I cannot defeat the Riven if I’m too busy protecting Lillian from both the Clan and the Coven. I must put my trust in you here today. Know I will fight your enemies alongside you if you agree to continue to shelter
Lillian.”
Another silence stretched by, longer this time than the last, until the banshee pushed back her chair and stood. “Why should we help you? For all we know, when you breeched the Veil between the Realms, you opened a way for these evil creatures to enter our world. For that matter, it might have been your precious mistress who opened the way for them. You claim you don’t know what happened to her. How can you ask us to protect her when you don’t even know if she’s the one who betrayed us all?”
Greenborrow rapped on the table. “I say we give the gargoyle what aid he needs and then we accept his aid in turn. We grow fewer with each year. How much longer can we go on if we will not work together?”
With a nod, Whitethorn stood. “You both have good arguments. I say we give the gargoyle our aid, but make certain this Sorceress is no threat.”
The banshee’s gray eyes turned stormy. “How will you be certain of her innocence? If this was as easy as you make it sound, I’m sure the gargoyle would already have done this. Yet he, one of the greatest spellweavers in the Magic Realm, has not done this. Why?”
Greenborrow chuckled. “Because the poor fellow hasn’t been given two free minutes to rub together, methinks. That, and it’s not a task he’ll be looking forward to performing.”
The gargoyle grunted in way of answer; his “yes” to all things nasty.
Lillian swallowed hard as nervous sweat made its way down her back. That she might be evil scared her, but the thought of losing Gregory because of that evil was far worse. She needed to know. “I’ll agree to this if it will prove I’m not a threat.” Her rushed statement turned several heads. Before they’d talked about her like she wasn’t there, but now each eyed her like a snake studying its next meal.
Not an improvement.
Whitethorn nodded, his lips forming a stiff line. “Then, with the gargoyle’s aid, we shall bind your power and read what resides within your soul.”
“No,” Gran cried, “She’s too young, and she doesn’t have the mental discipline needed to survive without being damaged. She’ll go into shock. She could die. Let the gargoyle and I give her the training she needs to prepare.”
“We can’t risk the wait,” Whitethorn said. He looked to the gargoyle. “We do this tonight if you want us to shelter her while you deal with the evil ones.”
Gregory glanced down at her, his dark eyes turbulent.
Surprisingly, Lillian’s own soul was serene, fear a distant thing. She didn’t fear death. This was a battle, and she never ran from a challenge. Her only concern was for Gregory and her family. She rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “It’s okay. We need to do this. I need to know. I couldn’t live with myself if there was something evil slumbering within me and it harmed those I love because I didn’t do anything to stop it.”
Chapter 17
The unfamiliar feeling of worry gnawed at Gregory’s stomach all the way back to the house. If Lillian knew what binding her power and reading her soul involved, she wouldn’t have agreed so readily. After a quick discussion, the Council decided the house would be the best location, familiar and more defendable. Gregory pinned his ears against his mane. By that the Council members meant they would have a better chance at containing Lillian if something went wrong. A low growl built in his throat; he clamped his teeth to prevent its escape.
Some other sign must have given him away because Lillian stepped closer until her arm brushed his. “It’s alright, Gregory. You said I lived in our enemy’s territory for years. If it’s as nasty as you implied and I survived it, I must be tougher than you think.” She skimmed her fingers down his arm until she laced them with his. “And I understand why you had to take my memories: you had no choice. I was a little taken aback at first.”
“You lived because the Lady of Battles wanted you for some purpose. That is why you survived.” Even as he said the words, they lacked the harsh edge he’d strived for, and his ears relaxed. He whispered a prayer to the Divine Ones, thanking them that Lillian had forgiven him for stealing her memories.
“Then I am tough because I survived whatever she did to me. Can you deny I stand before you with my mind intact and my heart beating?”
He sighed with exasperation even as a grin tugged at his lips. “Yes, you are a tough little dryad. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying.”
“I know.” She squeezed his hand.
While they talked, they had entered the house and arrived in the living room. Lillian looked around at the other fae. “Now what?”
Vivian stormed into the room, the older woman’s fierce expression focused on Whitethorn. “You can’t toss me out of my own house. If we’re going ahead with this foolery, then I’ll be at my granddaughter’s side.”
“The ceremony’s rules are clear. There will be no family present.” Whitethorn’s tone was as unforgiving as Vivian’s stubborn streak.
“Fine,” Vivian replied. “She isn’t related by blood. I’m staying.”
Whitethorn did look ready to toss Vivian out of her own home, Gregory decided, but the fae kept his composure.
“No. You are bound by the rules the same as we all are. We cannot change them just to suit our own needs. Go. I will keep you advised as to the gargoyle’s progress and our findings.”
“Gran,” Lillian said. “I must do this. It will be easier if you’re not present.” She stepped away from Gregory, her hand sliding from his. Immediately, he missed the contact. With an act of will, he focused on the tension in the room.
Vivian’s knuckles whitened against her staff. After a count of ten seconds, she relaxed her fingers. “Fine. But I will be near if you have need of me.”
“Thank you.” Lillian hugged her grandmother. Gregory had a surprising urge to embrace the older woman for her protective streak, too.
Vivian released Lillian, then caught Gregory’s eye. Her look told him to kill anyone who attempted to harm her granddaughter.
Sable came up next to Gregory. “I’ll help Lillian get ready.”
“Thank you,” Lillian replied.
He touched Lillian’s shoulder and sent thoughts of peace and comfort. She smiled, broadcasting love back at him before she broke contact and followed Sable.
Gregory called the shadows to him and vanished to make his own preparations. He would need more power if it became necessary to overwhelm Lillian’s shields. No matter how much he didn’t want to face the possibility, she could be a host to dark magic.
Closing his eyes, he began summoning magic, drawing chilled power directly from the Spirit Realm until his skin took on a patina of frost.
*
So far, the ceremony had been pleasant enough. It began with a purifying bath, the hot steam scented with lavender oil and sage. When Lillian finally exited the bathroom, she found Sable had lit candles in the four corners of the bedroom. A small fire burned in the fireplace. The air was heavy with sage, sweet grass, and cedar. The heat, low light, and fragrances helped Lillian relax. At least she’d gotten over her initial fears—mostly. Some still fluttered annoyingly at the edge of her consciousness—like what she would do if there was darkness inside her.
Might it not turn Gregory against you? The small internal voice of her consciousness nagged at her like it had since Gregory first told her why he’d taken her memories. She pushed that worry away. She’d already covered every possible disastrous outcome a hundred times.
While there was the possibility of losing him and everything she cared about, she imagined it was a slim chance. Gregory loved her too much to give her up; or at least, he loved his Sorceress too much to allow the Lady of Battles to win.
A breeze flowed in through an open window. The singing of frogs and the scent of night filled her bedroom and relaxed her further. With nothing else to do but wait, she stretched out on top of her comforter and worried at the drawstring of her satin pajamas. When she caught herself fidgeting, she folded her hands across her midriff and stared at the ceiling. While her present attire wasn’t something
she would have chosen for herself, she’d not been given much of a choice: satin pajamas or a silky, thigh-length nightgown which hadn’t been much more than a slip. Pajamas had won, no contest. A shy smile touched her lips; Gregory might have preferred the slip.
A soft knock at the door startled her from thoughts of Gregory in his human form. She sat up and tucked her legs underneath her. “Come in.”
The door pushed open and Gregory entered, as human as he had been in her thoughts. He paused when he caught sight of her on the bed. His look traveled the length of her, lingering in some places longer than others.
Warmth suffused her, and tension fluttered in her belly. The door opened farther and the pooka trotted in after Gregory, followed by Greenborrow, Sable, and Hyrand. Heat died and the nervous fluttering in her stomach turned into a rock
All Lillian knew about the ceremony was that Gregory would peel her shields away like the layers of an onion and lay her soul bare, so the others would be able to read her thoughts. Sable had made it sound like the binding of the magic would be done with only Gregory present. Which didn’t sound so awful. But magical binding sounded a whole lot less appealing with an audience.
With her best impression of a serene mask, she continued to watch Gregory. It was a better alternative than looking at the others where they’d lined up at one end of her bedroom. The gargoyle sat on the edge of the bed, and after glancing down the length of her satin-covered legs to her bare ankles, he looked back up. His eyes settled on the plunging neckline of her camisole a moment longer than polite. Now she wished the little satin cami was less revealing and that one of the stupid straps hadn’t slipped down off her shoulder.
His one eyebrow arched up in question and a mischievous grin lifted the corners of his lips. Humor glinted in his dark eyes. He leaned closer and touched a lock of her brown hair for a moment, then brushed it out of his way and slid his hand over the curve of her shoulder in pursuit of her camisole’s fallen strap. Catching the errant bit of satin, he hooked a finger under it and drew it back up into position, the pad of his thumb stroking along her skin the whole time. “As if I needed more distractions. I took this human form because it’s almost nose-dead, and thinking is easier when I’m not half-drugged by your scent. But I didn’t anticipate increased visual temptation from my demure little dryad.”
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