by Everly Frost
I hop onto the chair and take hold of the side of the hammock, listening to figure out if Cassian is sleeping.
He says, “You’re here because you need my help.”
He sweeps his wings aside and out of the way, holding them tight to his sides so he can face me.
“Yes,” I say, gripping the hammock and struggling up into it. It swings wildly back and forth before I manage to clamber over the edge and inside. I would ask him for help to get in, but two of us moving around will only make it worse. Hammocks are made for lying in, not sitting, so I stretch myself against the outer side of it while he remains on the inner.
I say, “I need you to carry the box to Howl.”
“Because he won’t suspect me.”
“Yes, but also because it means none of the miners will be singled out as making a claim to it. This only works if we all go together.”
He knows I’m not finished. “What else?”
“I need you to send a message to Howl convincing him that this should be a grand event. Like that day at Crimson Court. I need all the old clan leaders there: Lightsworn, Prime, Virtuous, Sunflight, Denrock, all of them. I need the old High Priestess there too, but not Baelen Rath. I can’t take the chance that he’ll wake up if I’m in danger. Can you do that?”
“Can I encourage Howl to show off his power?” Cassian scoffs. My eyes have adjusted enough now that I can see his expression, the wry glint in his eyes, and the solemn press of his lips together before he speaks. “That won’t be difficult.”
“Then you’ll help us?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t realize I was so tense until relief floods me. I really wasn’t sure if Cassian would agree to help. It means he’ll put himself in as much danger as the rest of us. Possibly more since his actions will be a betrayal of Howl.
The hammock isn’t made for remaining at one side. I’ve slowly slipped further toward the middle as we’ve been speaking and now my right side presses against his chest and legs. There’s still one more question I have for him. “Howl let you fly away with me tonight. I honestly didn’t think he would.”
Cassian’s expression is dark. “He will beat and torture you, but he won’t risk your death.”
“Why not?”
“He believes that if you die, Baelen Rath will wake up. Even if that means Baelen will die soon after, Howl fears what he will do if he wakes to find you dead.”
“Kill Howl?”
“Possibly.” He shifts his wings, rustling them. “Baelen Rath’s fearsome reputation precedes him. Combine that with the Storm’s power and Howl has something to fear for the first time.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Knowing that Howl is capable of fear is a source of hope. “Can you fly me back to my hammock?”
“No.”
His response is so abrupt that I search his face and body language for some explanation. The faint light from the distant webs reflects depths of emotion in his eyes. The web’s similar blue color highlights every shade of his irises, accentuating each shadow that falls across his cheekbones and lips. Is he refusing to fly me back or… is he refusing to let me go back?
He returns my questioning look with a ferocious one. He moves so fast, I have no time to react. His upper wing shoots over us, an instant cocoon, and at the same time, he rolls with it, placing one hand on either side of my head, holding himself up off me, one knee between my legs and the other outside my right knee. His body balances directly above me.
His demand is short and swift. “Why are you in my bed?”
I struggle to catch my breath at the sudden change of tone. “I came to ask for help.”
“You could have stayed on that chair and asked for my help.”
He’s right. I could have, but it seemed wrong to ask him to put his life in danger without looking him in the eyes.
He shakes his head at me. “I’ll forgive you for not knowing our customs, Princess, but before Howl took power, before he changed everything, there was one custom of true respect that applied in every clan.”
Tension rushes through me as he catches his own breath, his lungs expanding, causing his chest to brush against mine. He says, “The female chooses her mate. Not the other way around. Do you know how she does that?”
My heart has stopped beating. “How?”
“She comes to his bed.”
I was wrong: my heart hasn’t stopped beating, it’s hammering so hard in my chest that I can’t tell the beats apart anymore. My breathing is short, rapid. I don’t know their customs. I certainly never knew anything about choosing a mate. In elven culture, marriage is arranged, public, nothing so intimate as what he’s describing. How was I to know? I have no idea how many times I’ve stomped on something culturally important to them. But this…?
“But… I’m not a gargoyle.”
“You are to me!” His earnest declaration cuts my heart. He doesn’t see me as an elf anymore. He doesn’t see me as an outsider. He sees me as one of them. A gargoyle. A female.
“Now here you are… in my bed,” he says. “And yet I know that your heart belongs to Baelen Rath. What am I to make of this?”
I whisper, “You said you’d forgive me.”
A perplexed frown sweeps his forehead. “What?”
“You said you’d forgive me for not knowing your customs.”
His expression softens. “I did.” He sighs. “Which is why… I’ll take what you want to give.”
He lowers himself against me but angles for the side, sweeping his arms under me and pulling me with him so I’m lying on my side, pressed against his chest. Hooking his upper leg over mine, he sweeps his hand into my hair, smoothing it down my back in a soothing gesture. He plants a kiss on my forehead, a brief and confusingly gentle touch.
“You will sleep here,” he says. “After tonight, you will never come back to my bed again.”
I nod against his chest, just once. I can’t speak. My heart is a whirlwind of emotions. Cassian is like another storm to me—unpredictable, protective, surprisingly loyal, compassionate in astonishing ways. The emotions I feel for him are equally unsettling. I feel for him the same care I feel for Jasper and Llion, two males I count as true friends. And I can’t deny that if Baelen wasn’t in my life, I might see Cassian in a different light. I might see a possibility that… can’t exist because Baelen is everything to me. My heart is already spoken for.
Cassian said that he would only take what I want to give. Right now, I want to fall asleep feeling safe, because I know that when the sun rises, I won’t be. None of us will.
38. Cassian
Remember not to be so polite.
Marbella asks me if I will fly her back to her hammock and my response is the truth. “No.”
Her eyes widen slowly as she searches my face. I’ve never been so abrupt with her, even when I’ve given her orders. But I’m finally ready to fight for what I want. I have no guarantees that I’ll be alive at the end of tomorrow. I can’t go to my grave not knowing what could have been.
I release my upper wing. It shoots in a curve over her, cocooning us inside the hammock. I roll with the movement, positioning my hands on either side of her head, balancing my body above hers, one knee between her legs. She lies beneath me, and it takes all my willpower not to lower myself, gather her body up to mine, and reposition her legs around my hips.
I demand an answer from her. “Why are you in my bed?”
She catches her breath, startled by the suddenness of my movement. “I came to ask for help.”
“You could have stayed on that chair and asked for my help.”
Her lips part, her gaze passing across my face, following the shape of my cheekbones, eyes, and finally my lips. There was a time when she looked at me with fear and distrust, but not anymore. Now she has come to my bed, clambered right in. She’s the first who wasn’t sent by Howl. The first female to choose me.
I growl. “I’ll forgive you for not knowing our customs, Princess, but before
Howl took power, there was one custom of true respect that applied in every clan.” I inhale, trying to breathe, my chest expanding and brushing hers in tantalizing ways, making the distance between us agonizing. “The female chooses her mate. Do you know how she does that?”
Marbella is frozen, her voice a whisper. “How?”
“She comes to his bed.”
Her lips part in shock. She’s thinking about what she did, rapidly going through the choices that led her here. She doesn’t know the true weight of what she’s done. By coming to my bed, she has given me the permission I crave to touch her, the permission to love her like I want to. Not only that, but she has made a declaration of commitment. Gargoyles don’t have weddings like elves do. If she knew our customs, she would know that by coming to my bed…
She has become my wife.
Elaina was supposed to be my wife. She stole my heart a long time ago and until I met Marbella, I didn’t think I would ever get it back.
But I won’t touch her—not until she makes a conscious choice.
She’s stunned. “But I’m not a gargoyle.”
I stare into her eyes, my heart suddenly bleeding. “You are to me!” I don’t know how to make her understand that I stopped seeing her as an elf from the moment I flew her up to her hammock, from the moment I inhaled her dangerous scent, from the moment she dragged her fingertip across her lips in front of the mirror I gave her.
I fight the bitter ache growing in my chest. “Now here you are in my bed. But I know that your heart belongs to Baelen Rath. What am I to make of this?”
I want her to tell me that she doesn’t love him. I want her to tell me that she will forsake the past and be mine. I want her to look at me the way she looks at him.
But instead, she whispers, “You said you’d forgive me.”
I’m confused by her response. “What?”
“You said you’d forgive me for not knowing your customs.”
I search her eyes for a long moment, not wanting to shift from above her, not wanting to acknowledge that I’ll never hear what I want her to say.
I do forgive her. With my whole heart.
I sigh, releasing my hope, letting it go. “I did. So tonight I’ll take what you want to give.”
Friendship. Loyalty. Trust. Gifts I haven’t been given for a long time. Gifts that I’m willing to accept.
I lower myself to her side, sweeping her into my arms, stroking her hair and upper back the same way I did when she was cold. I leave a kiss on her soft forehead, the briefest touch.
“You will sleep here tonight,” I say. “Then you will never come back to my bed.”
She nods just once, burying her face against my chest, finally relaxing in my arms.
I stare at the ceiling for a long time until she falls asleep. Elaina gave me her unconditional trust and then she died because of me. This time, there’s more at stake than my heart. Marbella holds the key to the future of my people.
I slowly, carefully, fold up my feelings for her, putting them away before I extricate myself from her arms.
Like the shadow panther I killed all those years ago, I steal into the darkness of the tunnels, returning to the fifth, where the Queen’s heart is hidden under loose rubble at the back of the cave. After tomorrow, this tunnel will be collapsed and the Queen’s heartstone will be buried forever. Howl will never know it was here.
Elaina told me that one day I would understand why she gave her life for me.
I finally do.
39. Marbella Mercy
I wake to hushed voices inside the entrance to the cave. I stay very still, listening, making out Llion’s silhouette opposite Cassian’s.
Cassian says, “She’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake her before we need to.”
Llion’s accusation is laced with threat. “You didn’t bring her back to her hammock.”
“She climbed into my bed.”
There’s a pause. “Oh.”
Cassian sighs. “She didn’t know what she was doing. Don’t worry, I didn’t take advantage.”
There’s another pause. When Llion finally speaks, it’s a growl. “She trusts you, Cassian. Don’t betray her.” He spins on his heel, but Cassian follows him out.
“Llion… we used to be brothers.”
“That was before you chose to side with Howl.”
Cassian’s wings curve forward, another self-protective gesture that I’ve come to recognize, but this one is connected with remorse. “My actions are unforgiveable. I’m trying to make up for it now.”
“I hope you can.”
Llion strides away and Cassian leans against the cave’s entrance, staring at the other side, basically at nothing, for a long time. It gives me a chance to wake up properly and gather my thoughts. A shot of adrenaline forces me upright when I remember what today means. I try to wriggle out of the hammock on my own, but Cassian swoops over and helps me down.
“I sent the message to Howl,” he says. “Now I’m waiting for a response. In the meantime, I’ve ordered the guards to stay away from the heartstone or I will kill them.” He’s wearing his bone lash again. He’s already dressed in armor. “You can use my bathing room this morning. I’ve put something in there that I think you should wear today.”
So far, he’s done all the talking, which is good, because I don’t know what to say. There are no words for what we’ll face today. I’m not sure if I’ll be alive at the end of it. I enter the bathing room, curious to see what clothing he was talking about.
My armor.
I run to it, checking it over. It’s in perfect condition and it’s definitely the strongest, safest thing I could wear today. “How did you…?”
“I brought it back from the palace. The old Priestess, uh, borrowed it. You were so engrossed in the book you didn’t notice her take it. I guess you didn’t notice the satchel on my back either.”
“I was busy focusing on a safe getaway from Howl.” I chew my lip, trying to find a way to tell him that this armor could mean the difference between life and death for me today. That it is a priceless gift. What I end up saying is far from what I feel. “Thank you. I will wear this today.”
He accepts that, but before he leaves, I ask, “Did you let Llion go?”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“Llion told me that after he thought his wife died, you were supposed to kill him.”
Cassian shifts, uncomfortable, as I continue. “But you threw him into prison instead and I’m guessing… it wasn’t the most well-guarded prison. So I want to know: did you let him go?”
His expression is answer enough. He stares at the floor for a moment before he turns and leaves me in privacy. I suddenly realize that that might be the last private conversation I have with him. Everything is in place and ready. He’s agreed to his part in it. I lurch after him, not sure what else I want to say, but he’s already disappeared.
The next two hours are the longest of my life. Finally, at lunchtime, a messenger arrives and Cassian resumes his authoritative persona as he strides into the food hall, the messenger in tow. “Listen up! Howl expects to receive the Prime Heartstone at Crimson Court this afternoon. I expect you all to be ready to fly in an hour.”
He glares around the room, tapping his bone lash. “If any of you attempt to touch the heartstone before we leave, you will lose your head.”
A deathly silence follows him out. I lean across to Llion, “Get ready.” My voice wobbles. I want to say more but words fail me.
“Don’t worry, Lady Storm.” He places his hand over mine, strong and comforting. My team nods around me: Roar, Iago, and Welsian. Across the way, Jasper and Badenoch are waiting for my signal. “We know what to do.”
“It’s time,” I say, meaning so much more than that it’s time to get ready. It’s time for Howl to end.
As a swarm, the gargoyles stand up, quiet and resolute, and scatter in the directions they need to go. Jasper catches my arm before I leave, waiting for the food hall to empty aro
und us.
“You’re very quiet,” he says. It’s been a long time since we spoke alone. I haven’t told him about Elyria yet—there hasn’t been a chance but I know I have to take the opportunity now.
“I saw Elyria at the palace.”
His expression softens. He’s the only other person who can see Elyria and speak with her and he’s the first person she opened up to before we were separated. “How is she?”
“Not good, Jasper. Howl is violent and cruel. I can only imagine the things she’s seen.”
“She can’t fight back.” He grips my hands, sudden and determined. “We’ll do the fighting for her.”
I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I came here to save Baelen. Now I need to save an entire race of gargoyles.” I hang my head, the weight of responsibility heavy across my back and shoulders. “What if I fail?”
He pulls me into a hug. A month ago, I would have frozen up in complete shock at the contact. Now I melt into it, needing the assurance that I’m on the right path and that he’s willing to walk it with me.
“Marbella,” he murmurs. “You’ve already won.” He pulls back with a steely glint in his eyes. “Now get ready.”
I head straight for the bathing room and pull on my armor, brushing my hair back and braiding it tightly to keep it out of my face. Once my boots and gloves are on, I stride from the room feeling different, feeling like I still have the storm inside me.
Outside, I find the gargoyles all lined up and ready.
They have no armor, but they do have sturdy boots and they’re all wearing shirts for the first time, some tucked in to their long pants with belts made of rope. If they’re surprised to see me in armor, they hide it well.