by Jaymin Eve
A cry rises in my throat. The female on the ground is Gilda, Roar’s wife, her ebony hair flying around her face in the heat of the flames. She seems to remember her hair, reaches into it, and wrenches out the hairpiece Howl made her wear, throwing that into the fire too.
The female holding her is Carmen. She does the same, hurling her hairband into the flames. Then they claw at their flimsy clothing, ripping that off too, staring as it disappears inside the flames, leaving themselves completely naked. They roar into the fire, screams of agony they were never allowed to utter before.
Other females emerge, throwing cushions, chairs, parts of tables, ornaments, even the giant cherries that Howl made them eat and the scented soap he made them wash with. All of it disappears into the fire. One by one, they rip off their clothes and stand naked in front of the giant flames.
Tears drip down my cheeks. No female deserves to be treated the way Howl treated them. Not ever.
There’s a growl behind me. I don’t think Roar looked like this even during the battle at Crimson Court. He wants—needs—to kill something. So do the other males pacing at the far edges of the clearing. I recognize Rhain, Carmen’s husband, his newly healed wings half-spread as if he’s about to take flight and go to her.
“We tried to help them, but they screamed at us.” Roar points at a deep scratch on his chest. “Gilda did this. She won’t let me near her.”
A pale green light glows at the edges of my vision. It’s the Virtuous Heartstone, its empathy filling the air around me. I wrap my fingers around Roar’s big forearm, allowing as much of the soothing emotion to warm my fingertips as possible.
“I will help them, Roar. I promise you. But please, tell the other males to wait. Give us space. Your wives need to do this.”
He swallows. His throat constricts. “If you could kill that monster a thousand times, it would not be enough, Lady Storm.”
“I promise you, Roar, he felt excruciating pain at the end.”
I calm the force of the Queen’s destructive power as I pick my way along the path toward the females. The power inside me responds to the flames and the females’ rage, but it’s not anger that I need now. I reach Gilda’s side first. She recognizes me but says nothing, her face streaked with ash and tears.
I ask, quietly, “Where is it?”
She points to a growing pile of clothing that the females continue to hurl into the flames. The edge of a jet-black dress peeks from the pile. I recognize the pale blue filigree and the ribbons that circle the waist. It was the one that Howl made me wear when he paraded me like his trophy in front of the entire Court. It has a large slit up the back that he loved to abuse. I wore it to the mines, but the females came each week unknown to the miners to collect the laundry and deliver fresh clothing. They brought the dress back to Harem Hall with them.
I drag it from the pile, scrunch it in my fist, and pitch the garment into the fire. The heartstones respond to my anger, pushing the flames so high that they curve over the top of us, forming a barrier of flame between us and the rest of the world. I use the stones’ power to keep it there, maintaining the height and width of the flames, blocking out the worried males. The females close their eyes, the light flickering across their bodies and their wings.
“They say your new power can destroy things,” Gilda says, her eyes still closed. “Can you burn this place too?”
I study Harem Hall. Howl modeled every building exactly on the real palace that he destroyed. Somehow, I don’t think the former King kept a harem. “What was this building in the real palace?”
She sighs. “It was Healing Hall. It was where the Priestesses lived.”
I say, “Nobody will want to live here now.”
“Nobody.” She shakes her head, her hair waving around her face, black strands like ropes around her neck.
“Then I will destroy it. Just tell me when.”
Gilda opens her eyes. Tears stream out of them. She counts the females around her. “We’re all outside. It’s safe to destroy it now.”
I close my own eyes for a moment. The destructive power in the Queen’s heart wants to be released. I let it go and it’s scarily easy. Silver light streaks from the heart, forming four giant strands like ropes. Two of the strands stretch around each side of the Hall, extending all the way to the rock face and pulling taut against the external walls. The light spreads outward, sizzling across the surface of the building from verandah to roof, lighting up the entire structure like a skeleton. Wood and material pop and hiss as if the whole thing were dipped in acid. The building creaks, collapses, and dissolves. Just like Howl.
Within minutes, a giant pile of dust remains.
The females clutch each other, sobbing, barely standing. I wait for them, giving them all the time they need, standing with them.
Eventually, I say, “Tell me what you need.”
Carmen wipes her streaming eyes. “You must divorce us from our husbands.”
I stop myself before I react too quickly. “Divorce you? But your husbands love you. More than life itself.”
Carmen says, “We can’t go back to them after what Howl did to us.”
Gilda nods. “We can’t be their wives like this.”
Another female speaks behind Carmen. “We can’t share our bodies now.”
“Of course not,” I whisper. “But if Howl’s actions continue to break your lives, then he may as well still be here.”
Gilda shakes her head vehemently. “We need to divorce our husbands so we can marry them again.”
Carmen adds, “So we can start fresh.”
“Oh.” Well, thank the ancients because it would have broken Roar apart if Gilda wanted to leave him.
Carmen says, “You know our customs: the female chooses her mate. We have to choose our husbands again. For some of us, that might take some time. You must tell them… that we will come to them when we’re ready. But if they want us… they must show us their worth. They’ll know what that means.”
The females join hands and turn away from the fire. “We are going to get our children now, Lady Storm,” Gilda says. “Make sure the males know their children will be safe.”
The wall of flame has blocked the males from seeing behind it for a while now. I wait for the females to disappear into the night before I let the fiery curtain down.
Roar stops pacing, searching the darkness, but the females are gone. “Where are they? Please tell me that Gilda is okay.”
“She will be.” I turn to them all, waving them forward. “I have to tell you all something and I need you to hear me out before you react. Can you promise me you will do that?”
They are all searching the darkness for the one they love, many of them startled to see Harem Hall reduced to dust.
I begin slowly. “As Supreme Incorruptible I apparently have the power to divorce married couples. Your wives have asked for this.” I wait for this news to sink in. Roar is stunned, but I’m proud of the way he and the others recover, indicating they will keep listening.
“Your wives do not exist anymore. They are free females. Free to choose again. If you want them, you must show them your worth.”
Roar processes this for a moment before turning to the other males. “Show them… our worth.” His face clears and so do theirs. More than a couple sink to the ground and tip their heads back in relief. “Praise the ancients. They still want us.”
“They have gone to get your children. They want you to know your children will be safe.”
Roar sweeps me up in his arms in a giant hug that turns into flight. As we soar over the forest, he says, “Thank you, Lady Storm. I will return you to the Residence now.”
I try to smile against his chest, but the memory of Gilda and Carmen’s pain burns my eyes with tears. “What did they mean when they said you have to prove your worth?”
“It means we have to prove to them that we know who they are. In our culture, we do not deserve a female in our bed until we know their heart and mind first.
I will prove to Gilda that I know who she is.”
Roar sets me down inside the Residence where the old Priestess waits for me. His wings encircle me for a moment. “You lost much today, Lady Storm. We all did. But there’s much to be gained now that we have new lives.”
He takes flight before I can say anything else. Exhaustion rocks me. I haven’t eaten for a really long time and I need to see Baelen. I need to feel his arms around me, remember what goodness feels like. I stop the Priestess before she can speak. “Where is Baelen Rath? Take me to him, please.”
“As you wish but—”
“Take me to him.”
She takes another look at me and spins on her heel, beckoning me to follow her. “I’ve had rooms made up on the uppermost level for you. That way you are away from everyone else. He wanted to wait for you, but I told him you might be a while.”
The whole place is enormous. I’m sure it could house an entire army as well as the clan leaders and then some. She silently leads me through hallways and up three staircases until we reach a final corridor, stopping in front of a solid oak door.
“This is his room but—”
I reach for the handle, ignoring the warning in her voice. She steps in front of me, pushing my hand away. I stare at her in surprise.
She says, “That is unwise. You may not go to his bed.”
Female gargoyles choose their husbands by going to their chosen mate’s bed. I made the mistake of confusing Cassian by climbing into his bed.
I say, “I know your customs. If I go to his bed, it means that I choose him. Well… I choose him!”
Her response is equally forceful. “No! You are Supreme Incorruptible now. You are a gargoyle now. There are rules you have to follow. You can’t… You aren’t allowed…”
I wait for her to finish the sentence that seems to be tripping her up so much. “Can’t what?”
“Choose an elf.”
What? Rage boils under my skin. I grind my teeth. “You will not tell me who I can love.”
“The Wrathful One is a formidable ally and we owe him our lives but our Queen is a gargoyle. Our Queen must not choose an elf.”
I back away because if I don’t put some space between her and me, I’m going to do something really bad. Like throw her bony ass out the window or burn her to dust like one of Howl’s soaps. I’ve just come back from consoling beautiful females whose hearts and bodies were abused for years and my own heart is sore and painful in my chest. It will kill me to spend tonight apart from Baelen.
I ask one last time, “Will you let me pass?”
She plants herself in front of the door. From inside the room, I hear the faint sound of running water: a shower. If Baelen could hear us, he’d be out here in two seconds.
She says, “No.”
I shake my head. This isn’t happening. She isn’t actually saying this. Tomorrow I’m going to wake up and this will be some sort of mistake or bad dream or they will have all changed their minds and I won’t be Supreme Incorruptible after all. I will not let anyone stand between Baelen and me again. I close my eyes, using the last of my strength to contain my rage. “Where is my room?”
I open my eyes to see her point to the door at the end of the corridor. “There.”
“Right. Good.” I turn on my heel and, instead of walking toward the room she says is mine, I walk away from it. I walk away from her bony frame blocking Baelen’s door. She knows I could blast her and that damn door into shards. But she also knows that I won’t.
Because I’m not Howl.
I won’t use force to take what I want. I will find another way.
I start to run. The heartstones fly behind me. I don’t want to be the gargoyle’s Queen. I don’t want any of this. I just wanted to heal Baelen. And I will be with him, no matter what she says.
I find myself outside the Residence, speeding past the guards, dragging air into my lungs, pumping my arms and legs as hard as I can, running down the hill through the trees, past the pile of dust that used to be Harem Hall, rotating right across the cliffs, racing toward Crimson Court. The guards don’t try to stop me. One look at my face and they turn back to the cliffs and give me privacy.
Most of the bodies are gone, taken by their families to be buried.
There’s only one I need to see.
I drop to the floor beside Cassian. My shoulders slump. I press my hands against the tops of my knees, hauling air into my lungs. My chest burns so bad. I remember the moment he held the Queen’s heart and wrapped me up in his wings, telling me to hold on while he took the force of her awakening. I remember his brilliant blue eyes. I remember when he gave me a mirror and told me not to be afraid of who I am.
The old Priestess told me that I can’t choose an elf. Well, the only gargoyle I would have chosen—even if I could pretend for two seconds that my heart isn’t completely Baelen’s—lies dead before me now. Cassian, the one whose bed I climbed into by accident.
I pull my braid apart, letting my hair down. Then I take hold of his wing and slide under it. I curl up inside the heavy cocoon that saved my life when I would have frozen to death.
He is the cold one now.
“I’m sorry, Cassian.” Tears slide down my cheeks, dripping onto his chest. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”
I’ve destroyed many things today, but there’s only one thing I really want to destroy: death.
A long time later, I awake to familiar arms—Baelen’s arms—pulling me upward, gathering me against his chest. He strokes my hair, soothing strokes, and I don’t care where he’s taking me as long as he’s there with me. He doesn’t use his power, walking every step, carrying me all the way back to the Residence.
Finally, his warmth leaves me, but only long enough for me to see a bedroom, a bed, and a blanket being pulled up over me. The bed sinks with his weight before he wraps himself against me. His strong arms curl around me, drawing my head against his shoulder.
His voice is a low promise in my ear. “Just because you can’t come to my bed, doesn’t mean I can’t come to yours.”
I have no words. Part of me wants to laugh because he found a way around their stupid rules. Most of me wants to cry but I don’t seem to have any tears left.
7
I awake to find Baelen sound asleep beside me. When I shift, his arms tighten around me in a protective reflex. I slept in my armor. Without eating. After a lot of crying. And nothing more than Baelen’s kisses on my hair and his gentle words in my ears even when I wanted more.
My stomach growls. Loudly. Also, I need to use the bathroom. Curse the necessities. I want to stay right where I am.
Nope. Bathroom calls.
I pry myself from his arms, sliding out from under the blankets. I love my armor—it has saved my life countless times—but I need it off my body. I need to be free of all the fighting and the battles. I peel it off my arms and legs, inhaling a deep breath as I step out of it. I leave it in a puddle on the floor and head straight to the bathroom, using the facilities before I turn on the shower and stand beneath it, letting the water stream over me.
It runs dark with soot from the fire outside Harem Hall.
I lather and rinse twice before I’m certain I’ve washed all of the ash out of my hair. Outside the shower, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the way my hair has taken on a pearly sheen, my skin a moonlit glow. If I cover the tips of my ears and imagine wings, I look like a female gargoyle. So much of the elf in me has disappeared that I don’t recognize myself anymore.
Drying myself, I realize I have no clothes or even a dressing gown. Do I care? I trust Baelen with my life and I want to be with him. I’m not afraid to be naked in front of him.
I leave the towel behind and prowl from the bathroom to find a very awake Baelen standing right outside. He’s dressed in the same clothing he was wearing when he brought me back last night: a long-sleeved shirt and long pants; clean ones he must have changed into while I was out with Roar. It’s definitely gargoyle
clothing because the shirt has discrete clips at the side to allow for it to be put on around wings.
He misses a beat. He’s always had incredible self-control but I’m certain he wasn’t expecting me to emerge naked. He wrenches his gaze from the curve of my hip. Funny, I never thought that would be the sexiest part of my body but the way his gaze lingers on my narrow waist and then rises to my shoulders, following the water droplet sliding from the base of my neck across my collar bone…
My knees threaten to give way in the most ungraceful way. Luckily I still have one hand on the bathroom door, so I use it to keep myself upright.
He owes me so many answers—how does he know Outlier Senturi?—but right now I have other things on my mind. My chest rises and falls. I tell myself to breathe. “You promised me I’d only have to wait three years, Baelen Rath. Well, it’s been seven and a half. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
A smile grows on his face, lighting up his eyes. He lifts his chin, appraising me. “You seemed busy all that time. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
I let go of the door, trading its support for the chance to be nearer to him. After two steps, inches remain between us. I tilt my head back. Damn his height. I can’t reach his lips on my own and I have no water to help me this time.
He tilts his head down to mine, drawing a quick breath before his lips descend.
At the last moment… he freezes.
The laughter fades from his eyes, which become very serious. His hands return to his sides. He contemplates me for so long that it scares me. “Baelen?”
He takes a step back. “We can’t do this today, Marbella.”
Wait… what? I shake my head. Swallow. Repeat what he said inside my head. Did he just say we can’t do this? Did he just say no? Please, please don’t let it be because he’s taking the whole don’t-come-to-his-bed thing seriously…
He sidesteps me, walks backward to the closet, and drags it open, all while keeping his eyes on me. He wrenches the nearest garment from its hanger—a silken dress that threatens to slide right out of his hands. He fumbles with it, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and hands it to me.
