by Jaymin Eve
Inside the Residence, I sneak to my room before I encounter the Priestess or anyone else who will want answers. But especially the Priestess. She’d told me that the stones were destructive and I guess her beliefs were formed out of fear. I’m still processing what Gretel taught me. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that the stones sit on my head now and that they feel like part of me.
My strength, my heart, my strategy, my immortality.
I remove the tiara in my bedroom, testing how far away from the crown I can move before I feel its pull. Seems like the bathroom is okay. From the doorway, I test whether I can call it to me, reaching out my hand. The crown zips straight into my open palm. Excellent. I could probably move even further but right now I need to clean up.
I’m halfway through washing myself—most of the blood is gone—when the bathroom door crashes open in a great gust of wind.
Baelen storms in behind it, a tornado picking me up so I don’t slip in surprise. The shower water suddenly transforms into a fine mist, swelling around me in a gentle cloud. He dwarfs the doorway. Every muscle in his body is tense, his chest heaves, and growls rip from his throat. Behind his eyes, the spark of fire threatens to be released.
I don’t fight the pull of the storm around me. “Baelen—?”
He strides toward me at the same time as the tornado whisks me forward and deposits me, naked and wet, into his arms. Carrying me from the room, his fiery body heat dries me off instantly.
He plants me on the side of the bed but doesn’t let me go, dropping to a kneeling position to examine my shoulder. His chest rumbles with thunder as he inspects my skin and muscles, his fingers at first light and then firm as he tests for any lasting damage.
He finally speaks, a threatening vibration. “You were supposed to be invincible. They said you were invincible. How did this happen? Who do I need to kill?”
“Nobody, Baelen. Really. I’m okay now.”
“But you weren’t!”
My voice is small, trapped in my throat. I try to squash the memory of the talon crow clawing through my shoulder. “No, I wasn’t.”
“What happened?”
The truth is not going to make him any happier, but there’s no way around it. I try to slow it down, keep it calm. “A talon crow attacked me. It was under the control of the Elven Command’s newest member: Grayson Glory. He’s a powerful sorcerer and… he’s forced a tether with our heartstones. It protects him from my power. It’s how he got through my defenses.”
“Which heartstones?”
“Rath and Mercy.”
If he was angry before, now he’s pale with fury.
I hurry on. “But I have much better control of my power now. I was afraid to use it before, but I’m not anymore. And the positive side is that he thinks I’m weaker than I am.”
Baelen’s big hands flex around my waist, his jaw clenching. “I should have been there.”
“Baelen—”
“It’s my job to protect you, Marbella Mercy. I can’t protect you if you won’t let me.”
“You can’t be there every second of every day.”
“Watch me.” He drops a growly kiss to my shoulder, his determined statement vibrating against the sensitive skin at the base of my neck. His hands drop to my thighs, his thumbs grazing the inside of my legs while his lips travel from my collarbone to my mouth. Warmth spreads through me as I realize where we are, what position we’re in, and how much I don’t want him to stop, even if he’s kissing me in sheer fury about the fact that I was hurt and he wasn’t there to stop it.
I kiss him back, shifting closer to his chest and sighing against his lips. My moan seems to bring him back to himself, but he doesn’t push me away like he did this morning. He picks me up and carries me to the closet, hooking one arm around me after he slides me to my feet in front of the racks of clothing.
He asks, “Which ones?”
I point to a pair of long pants and a new shirt, as well as to the underwear drawer. “I take it the Priestess has replenished my clothing.”
But he’s not interested in where the clothing came from, pulling the underwear onto me, sliding the shirt over my head, and sitting me back on the bed to slip the long pants from my ankles to my thighs. He touches my bare skin every chance he gets. By the time he pulls me into a standing position and drops a kiss on my stomach as he buttons the pants for me, I’m burning all over. Can he rip everything off me now please?
He whispers into my ear. “Soon.”
My knees wobble. “Baelen, there’s more.”
His eyes narrow and tension returns to his body. “How much more?”
“Grayson Glory told me to prepare the gargoyles for surrender. He gave me a month to give myself up. Then he’s going to start killing my Storm Command.”
Fire leaps into life at the back of Baelen’s eyes. “You can’t surrender.”
“I’m going to fight back. I’m going to free my Storm Command. But Baelen… the gargoyles need time to heal. I can’t walk out there tonight and tell them that the Elven Command is planning to take away their freedom after they just got it back. I need time to figure out what I’m going to do.”
“You want to keep this threat from them?”
“Not for long. Just for now.” I chew my lip, expecting him to argue against it. I want to argue against it. I verbalize my thoughts before I can second-guess myself. “Howl has only been gone for a day. Families are still trying to find each other. The gargoyles need time to mourn, reconnect, rebuild. And I…”
I swallow hard, twisting my hands in my lap. “I need to bury Cassian. I need to say goodbye too.”
Baelen wraps my hands in his. I thought he would have jumped in already, told me it’s the wrong choice, but he hasn’t. Instead he says, “Grayson Glory gave you a month. The best thing you can do for your… our people… is to take a few days to get your head straight and start planning. If you need to bring some of the gargoyles into the loop, then do that. But when you break this news to them, you need to go to them with a plan. Otherwise, you’ll only bring fear back into their lives.”
I blink away the sudden tears swimming in my eyes. “You’ll help me?”
“Always, baby. But not only me. You have legions of gargoyles with incredible skills behind you. That gargoyle you healed—Llion?—he was the King’s armorer wasn’t he?”
“That’s right.”
“You’ll need his help. And the new High Priestess Talia too. They tell me she has the power to use deep magic to protect gargoyles who are in danger. If you’re thinking of heading back into Erawind, then she needs to be here in your place. How long until she and Llion get back?”
“I’m not sure, but with the babies, I’d say another day at least. That’s if they don’t run into any trouble.”
He levels his eyes with mine. “Then we use that time to plan for war.”
13
We bury Cassian that night. Welsian found the perfect place—a clearing high behind the Royal Residence. It’s surrounded on one side by trees but clear on the other, allowing a full view of all of Erador and its vast mountains. Their custom is to conduct funerals at night under the moon. They don’t lay ribbons over the coffin like elves do, but they do mourn in silence. Like elves, gargoyles believe there are no words to lessen the pain of losing someone.
A second coffin rests near Cassian’s. It contains the former King’s wing bones. Howl had kept the bones as an act of aggression after burning the King’s body. The bones hum and buzz in my ears like they did in the mines, but now I recognize the sound as a trigger.
While I stand at the head of Cassian’s coffin, my tiara glows as my Queen’s heart responds to the King’s bones, an ancient recognition of royal blood between them and me. It vibrates through me for a final moment before the sensation eases and the bones fall silent.
It conveyed one last message: I must protect the gargoyles.
Baelen stands one step behind me. He has been true to his promise to stay
close but not in a way that invades my space. He spent most of the afternoon working with Arlo to reunite the remaining children with their families. I’m both sad and relieved that only a few children remain who have no family left, but the Priestesses are mothering them to the full. A handful of the gray-haired females cluster at the side of the clearing now. They remind me of my Storm Command, dressed in stormy gray dresses. They are older, grandmotherly females, but the air tingles around them: a remnant of the deep magic they once wielded. Talia is the only Priestess who can command it now.
All of the clan leaders are here too, including Senturi. There is no point trying to keep Senturi in the dark about Grayson Glory’s threat, so I took him aside at a quiet moment and told him everything.
As I place my hand on Cassian’s coffin where it’s elevated on top of two rocks, I’m glad I don’t have to speak. I can feel whatever I need to feel. Cassian was complicated. The first time I met him he was trying to capture Talia and he really didn’t make a good impression on me. Then Cassian was sent to keep an eye on me in the mines. He certainly did that. But over time he changed—so slowly that I didn’t notice until his transformation was complete. Then he was my friend and ally, a protective force in my life.
I clutch his bone lash, holding it close. Welsian retrieved it from the battle. He told me that it’s my choice whether to keep it or bury it with Cassian: neither choice is wrong.
I clip it to my belt in front of the watching gargoyles. It’s the only signal they need. Four big gargoyles step forward to lower both coffins into the ground.
Then every other gargoyle in the clearing rises off the ground, soaring in a swarm high up above our heads. It’s an imposing sight. The males’ wings absorb the moon’s light, darkening the sky, while the females’ catch the light like diamonds. They swoop low over the coffins, one last flight for Cassian and the fallen King. Then they soar away into the night.
I wait quietly for the four gargoyles to finish their work. Then they, too, rise up and fly away.
Baelen wraps his arms around me, a comforting presence, and kisses the back of my head. He whispers, “You haven’t told me.”
It’s true. I haven’t told him anything about Cassian. I start to speak and then I can’t stop, the words tumbling out of me. I tell Baelen everything, even the parts he won’t like. I turn to make sure I’m facing him. I can’t hide from any of it. He rockets through all the emotions: fury, fear, gratitude, fury again. Well, mostly fury, especially about the naked bits. And even more so about the part where I climbed into Cassian’s bed. I don’t leave anything out, none of what Cassian said or did.
When all of the words have broken out of me, Baelen says, “He never touched you.”
“No, never like that.”
He wants to be furious at Cassian. I can tell he does. He paces beside the fresh mound of earth that covers Cassian’s grave. But there’s an element of respect in the way Baelen contemplates the fresh earth. Cassian was honorable, respectful of me, and that in turn deserves acknowledgement from one male to another.
My voice breaks. “He loved me, Baelen. He knew I couldn’t return his love.”
Baelen doesn’t seem to know what emotion to feel: torn, angry, sad, but then… he crosses the distance, brushes the tears from my cheeks, and gathers me into his arms. “I’m not sorry you couldn’t, baby.”
A breeze grows beneath my feet. Baelen’s storm power springs into life, lifting me away from the graves. The growing wind plucks at my clothing. Other than the fight with the guards, he’s barely used his power. A whole lot more of it simmers beneath the surface. He lifts me above the gravesite, carrying me far above Erador, so high that I imagine I can see the border on the distant horizon.
He says, “This is your country. This is what you’re protecting now.”
Beneath us, a thousand cerulean-blue lights glitter, each one a gargoyle home.
His body heat increases to counteract the cold air, but I stop him. “Let me try.”
I’ve been practicing using my Prime power and it’s time to test it out. I close my eyes and focus on the golden stone resting against my forehead, the opposite force to my Incorruptible power. Heat washes through me in a rush, from the top of my head to my toes, so fast I gasp. A pocket of warm air builds around me. In response, Baelen’s grip relaxes, releasing me to float a little higher.
My eyes shoot open. “Don’t drop me.”
He laughs. “Never. Remember, I won’t let you fall. But… baby… you’re doing this on your own.”
He’s not holding me at all. I consider the force around myself, sensing the freezing temperature of the air outside my warm bubble—my Incorruptible power is making it colder out there, which in turn makes me float. “Well. Okay then.”
He takes my hand and leads me down through the air. As we approach the ground, a lone figure beside the Crimson Court catches my attention. I swerve in that direction, tugging Baelen’s hand.
“That’s Indira. But I don’t see Erit.”
“Do you want me to give you a minute?”
“Yes, thank you.”
As I touch the ground, he kisses my forehead and disappears into the darkness. He won’t go far, but he won’t listen in. I cross the distance to the proud female. “Indira.”
The wind whips at her hair and coat as she stares into the distance. “Erit lied to me.”
She turns to me, her eyes sparkling with surprising tears. “He told me that he made his bed wherever he found it, but the truth is that he built a home for me. He planned to come back for me but Howl threw him in prison before he could. It’s in a valley not far from here. It’s beautiful there, Marbella. Just like a picture. Everything I could have dreamed of. Everything… that I could want to raise a family.”
She presses both her hands flat against her stomach, tears dripping down her cheeks. The way she splays her fingers out across her body and what she said about raising a family make my eyes widen. “Are you…?”
“I am.”
“But… you only… this morning and… it’s only been hours… how can you tell so soon?”
She laughs out loud. “It only takes once.” Then she shrugs, giving me a crazy-happy smile. “Gargoyle females know straight away. We only experience pregnancy one time so we get to enjoy every minute of it. It’s the last part that’s hard: giving birth to twins with wings.”
I shake my head in amazement. Elven females don’t realize they’re pregnant for weeks. Our cycles are six weeks long and there aren’t any physical signs until our next cycle simply never shows up. I break into a grin. “Indira, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!”
I throw my arms around her, surprising her with one ginormous hug. But as soon as I let her go, fresh tears spill down her cheeks.
“I wanted to stay with Erit in that beautiful valley and have our babies and pretend that everything is fine.” She levels her gaze with mine, her eyes glossy with tears that she wipes away. “But we both know things are only going to get worse.”
I exhale a long breath. “Gretel told you about the threat.”
“She slipped me a message before we left. I asked Erit to bring me here so I could speak with you about the future of the Grievous Clan. I didn’t tell him the real reason. I won’t say anything until you decide it’s time.”
She steps right into my space, her expression hardening. “Gargoyles have long feared retaliation for what the Storm did to the elves. Howl may have abused us, but the Elven Command will wipe us out.”
“I won’t let that happen, Indira.”
She asks, “You have a plan?”
“I do, but it comes with risks. I won’t make anyone come with me who doesn’t want to.”
“Go with you?” Her shoulders draw back. “You’re taking the fight to the elves.”
Is that actually admiration on her face? “I plan to.”
“When do we leave?”
I laugh. She looks ready to come with me right away. “I’m waiting for Llio
n to get back because I need a weapon only he can make.” Llion created the golden dagger that I used to sever the connection between Baelen and me. The dagger was coated in shimmer beetle husks—the toughest substance in our world, tougher even than a gargoyle’s wing daggers. Llion is the only gargoyle skilled enough to make it for me. I need it so I can sever whatever connection Grayson Glory has with the Rath and Mercy Heartstones.
“Grievous Llion? I haven’t seen him for many years. Other than Erit, he was the only respectful male in my life.”
“You’re cousins, right?”
She links her arm with mine. “Llion got away from our clan when we were kids. He made his way to the palace and convinced the King to employ him. We heard about it all the way back on Mount Grievous so my aunt and uncle couldn’t claim that he had died.”
We make it halfway to the Residence before we reach the spot where Baelen waits. He lifts himself away from a tree at the side of the path, but a frown quickly drops over his features, his jade-green eyes narrowing at Indira. “I know you.”
She suddenly appears sheepish, tugging her coat a little closer around herself. She’s taller than me, but still has to tip her head back to meet his eyes. “Greetings, Baelen Rath. Uh… I may have shot an arrow at you once.”
“That was you.”
She glances side to side as if looking for an escape route, her shoulders rising and her mouth drawing into a hopeful smile. “So I guess… I’m sorry?”
“How about ‘thank you.’”
She clears her throat. “That too.”
I take glances between them. “What’s going on?”
Baelen folds his arms, appearing very stern but the crinkle at the corners of his eyes tells me he’s trying not to smile. “Lady Indira was hunting shadow panthers in the wastelands one day. It happened that we were after the same one—a particularly bloodthirsty brute. It was creeping up behind her, but she saw me, not it. She shot an arrow at me.”
