Stone Guard

by Emma Alisyn

  Bea blinked. “Ah . . . Niko, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want Aeezah to be confused.”

  “She won’t be.” His voice was flat. “She’s old enough for an abbreviated explanation. We’ll sit her down, explain there are some difficulties with your job right now, and I’m hanging around to make sure you’re both safe from . . . burglars.”

  “Burglars?” Bea laughed. It wasn’t really funny, but it was. “Okay, honey. Burglars.”

  He held out a hand. “I’m glad I amuse you, sweetheart. That bodes well for the future.”

  Her amusement vanished. “What future? You can’t just bandy words like ‘future’ around. I’m not a young girl with daydreams of romance.”

  “Veda hasn’t had the talk with you, has she?”

  Bea crossed her arms over her chest, staring at his hand. He held it steady, as if he could hold it there forever. “What talk?”

  “The talk about gargoyle warriors and what happens when they stake a claim.”

  She rolled her eyes. The melodrama. “Whatever, Niko. How long do you think you’ll need to hang out?”

  “Come here, Bea.”

  The command was spoken in a soft, beguiling tone. Like he was giving her a choice, and respecting her decision. Such a pretty illusion. Bea wondered what he would do if she refused. Cross the room and snatch her up? Wrap strong arms around her like a gentle, steel prison and declare she was his forever and he wouldn’t ever let her go?

  Bea grinned.

  “What are you laughing at now, female?” The beguiling tone vanished, replaced with pure male exasperation. “If you won’t obey me in something so simple without laughing at me, this is going to be problem.”

  She stood and approached him, sliding her hand into his. “I was just thinking about all the romance books I’ve ever read with gargoyles in them and comparing the dialogue. Dialogue in books is bad enough, but in real life it’s even worse.”

  His brows snapped down in a scowl. “I thought human women were romantics.”

  “Not me. Not a romantic bone in my body. Look who I work for.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, working for Malin would grind the whimsy out of me as well. Kausar trained the Ioveanu’s, and they still tell tales in the guard of his methods that make the new recruits shudder.” He paused. “I will train you, however. No other male will be allowed to lay hands on you.”

  “Shouldn’t it be someone not afraid to put bruises on me?”

  “Oh, I’m not afraid to bruise you, sweetheart.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “But if you have bruises, they will be my bruises.” His lips curved. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

  She inhaled, heart rate spiking a bit. “Are we talking about martial arts or something else?”

  His head lowered. “That’s up to you. We’ll take this thing between us at your pace.”

  Niko’s lips grazed hers. Not quite a kiss, more of a declaration of intentions. But the light touch branded her. She leaned into him, silently signaling consent. It was all he needed. The next touch wasn’t soft, or gentle, but closer to what she expected of a warrior, a male who only pretended to be human but possessed strength even the strongest mortals could only dream of.

  Her body warmed, a rush in her veins as her mouth opened beneath his, and his arms really did come around her in a vice like grip.

  “I thought I was a warrior,” he said roughly, breath warm against her lips. “I’m not warrior enough to let you go.”

  Bea’s hands gripped his shoulders. “Then teach me. Teach me to fight so you don’t have to worry about me.” So she would be strong enough for him, an asset and not a liability. But she wouldn’t say those words out loud, because he wouldn’t understand that she wasn’t fishing for reassurance, but simply assessing her capabilities and finding them wanting.

  Niko’s hands slid down to her waist. “Yes.” His expression hardened. “Yes, I know what I need to do. You’ll have to be strong enough, Bea. Neither of us has a choice.”

  Prince Malin didn’t look surprised when Niko told him of their decision. Her . . . boyfriend . . . had grabbed her hand when they left the waiting room, not relinquishing her even when they were in the royals’ presence again. Malin’s eyes skimmed their intertwined fingers, but he only nodded.

  Surah just sighed, and addressed Niko. “We might as well train Veda. I need more females in my personal guard. Our personalities mesh well.”

  Niko look surprised, then bowed, deeply. Bea realized it was the first time she’d seen him address the princess without a degree of underlying sarcasm. She’d have to ask him some time what that was all about.

  “Thank you, Highness,” he said. “We’ll figure out how to manage the Garden during her training.”

  “How long does it take?” Bea asked.

  Surah snorted, while Niko simply rubbed her hand with his thumb. “Years, Bea. Years.”

  The rest of the work day was relatively normal. She stayed a bit later than usual, until the sun began to go down, but that wasn't the first time she'd worked overtime. Her comm unit beeped, and she glanced at her wrist, tired, and hoping against hope it wasn't Ben. Just as worse—her mother. If she compared her relationship with her mother to the warm, if slightly exasperated and sometimes subtly competitive relationship between Veda and Stacia, it was another reason to envy her gargoyle friend.

  Despite Stacia's low-key, controlling manner, and Veda's constant ducking, Stacia was always supportive.

  "Hello, Mother," Bea said, wondering what criticism she'd have to endure this time. And realized she was at the point where she wasn't willing to endure any more. She had friends, and an employer, who thought highly of her. A new potential relationship with a man who wasn't just some throwaway she'd met online. She knew she couldn't place value—or lack thereof—in herself in relation to the people she interacted with, but there was a measure of truth in the old adage that you were who you hung out with.

  She hung out with royalty. So there, mother.

  “Hello, Bea. How's my granddaughter?”

  They talked for a few minutes about Aeezah's school work and accomplishments. Then came the inevitable turn of the conversation to something Bea was doing wrong.

  "Ben called. He told your father you're dating a gargoyle. For heaven’s sake, Bea. What are you doing? Surely you know that's not the best kind of role model for Aeezah to be around."

  Bea's teeth ground together. "Do you think it's a little crappy that you're taking my ex-husband's side without even talking to me first? Oh . . . the ex-husband who wants to stop paying support so he can have a baby because, get this, babies are expensive."

  Her mother was silent for a moment. "Well, it's natural. Ben's a family man, after all."

  And she wasn't a family woman? Her back stiffened. They’d had a version of this conversation often enough for Bea to know she was being criticized. Her mother had worked part-time while raising Bea. Because a woman's true life calling was husband and children. Careers were for childless women not doing their duty to the human race.

  "I just don't think dating a gargoyle is a good idea, Bea. It's not like they're marriage material. He's probably just slumming."

  “And you know this based on what experience?" And she and Niko technically hadn't gone on a date yet, so . . . . "I'm not dating a gargoyle anyway. I do have gargoyle friends, and I would never bring anyone around Aeezah who wasn't safe."

  Her mother was silent a moment, and when she began to speak, it was in the careful tone that told Bea she wouldn't like what she was about to hear. "Don't you think Aeezah should be raised in a two-parent household, Bea? Ben said he offered to take her. That might take some pressure off you. You never really were the maternal type. So ambitious."

  Bea worked to keep her jaw from unhinging. "I can't believe what I'm hearing. Mother, I'm going to say this once, because I think I've failed to set boundaries before, and that's my fault." She took a deep breath, let it out. "I don't really like confro
ntation, and I don't like hurt feelings or complications. But I have to get over that, because I think I've taught the most important people in my life that it's okay to mistreat me."

  Her mother began to speak. Bea cut her off. "No, listen please, Mother. Do you know why I love my job? Because I'm respected. I do what I'm asked to do, and I do it well. No one thinks I'm not good enough, not trying hard enough, or just plain wrong."

  "Bea—"

  "Mother, I'm only going to say this once. If you ever want to speak to me again, adjust how you talk to me about my life. My daughter is just fine. She's a well-adjusted, normal, and happy little girl. Putting her in that situation where she was only living with her father and not with me would not be the best thing for her. And the reason I know this is because I am her mother. A damn good mother. So you don’t know what is best for her."

  Before her mother could say anything else, Bea hung up the phone. Her hands were shaking, and then something changed. Shifted inside of her. She heard Niko's words in the back of her mind, saw his measuring look. He thought she had the potential to be a warrior. She had to start acting like it.

  12

  The balcony on her upper level would have to be torn out and redone. Niko grimaced as he landed, wings nearly tangling in the railing. A railing.

  Bea opened the glass doors and looked at his face. He stared at her, stoic, as she laughed.

  “You should see your expression,” she said, and stepped back, gesturing for him to enter. “I guess you aren’t used to human balconies.”

  He wouldn’t begin their relationship by insulting her measly outdoor space. He’d just have it fixed. He wasn’t wealthy like Malin, but he had plenty of savings and his investments did well. Probably due to his mother’s influence he had few vices, so most of his money was sitting in various accounts. Expenses were deducted automatically every month, and he had a grocery service do his shopping and meal prep. A wife would do all of that, he realized, once he married . . . wouldn’t she? He looked at Bea, and reconsidered. She was Malin’s, it was unlikely she would leave the Prince’s employ once she wed. He shrugged. So they would have a different type of lifestyle, but it would still be satisfying.

  Bea glanced at him, brow raised, but didn’t question him. “I have an extra room,” she said. “But it doesn’t have an entry to the outdoors.”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch if I’m here during the day.”

  “It’s not made for wings, Niko.”

  “What do you think about new furniture?”

  She glared.

  He shrugged, and prowled through the living room, taking note of the small touches that made the place Bea's. Old-fashioned, wood-framed photos mixed with digital art. A rocking chair in a corner with a crocheted throw. The television was small, but there was a bookcase with yellowed paperbacks lining a single shelf. He picked up one title, examined the colorful cover, flipped through the pages.

  "They were my grandmother's," Bea said. "Classics."

  He'd never heard of Robin McKinley or Anne McCaffrey, but he'd take her word for it. "You like to read?"

  Her lips curved, expression rueful. "When I have time. These days I read mostly nonfiction. Work related things. History. I suppose I should study politics."

  He put the book away, faced her. "Study war, espionage, and economics. That's all politics is."

  "Hmm."

  "Where is Little Bea?" He didn't hear any other sounds in the house, and knew the girl was gone.

  "Dance class, she'll be home soon. It was another mother's evening for carpool. Have you eaten? I was about to assemble dinner."

  "Vegetables?"

  She laughed at his wary expression. "I smother anything green with cheese and butter."

  "I could live with that. But you don't have to feed me." And he knew she didn't understand what it meant that she offered to cook for him. She was human—she didn't know that was a part of gargoyle courtship.

  "You're here to protect us, the least I can do is provide a meal. Make yourself comfortable."

  She disappeared into the kitchen and he nosed about her belongings some more, but was bored after a few minutes. He followed her to the kitchen, leaning against the threshold and folding his arms.

  Bea glanced at him. She was taking various chopped items out of clear containers, divvying them up into pots and skillets on the stove. "Are you going to stand there and watch me cook?"

  "My mother doesn’t like it either."

  "You father doesn’t cook?"

  "A male?"

  "I guess not. Cooking is women's work, huh?"

  "Every warrior knows how to make basic dishes. But no, that's not what I meant. There are too many weapons in a kitchen, and a wise male knows to stay out, especially if he's pissed his female off."

  Bea paused, lifted the chopping knife in her hand. "I'd have to be really mad to turn this into a weapon."

  "That, or in fear for your life." He stepped into the kitchen, moving closer to her, and picked up one of the pots. Cast iron, and heavy. "But this is a weapon just as much as a blade. Or a hot coffeepot. Anyone well trained would know how to make use of any of these items."

  "Is that what you're going to teach me? To bonk people over the head with pots?"

  "Yes." He stared at her, serious. "You'll learn to use things you've been handling all your life first. If you're ever attacked, it's more likely to be a home invasion then an enemy bringing attention to themselves by assaulting you in bright moonlight."

  Her eyes widened, and after a long pause, she said, “I see. When do we start?”

  “Tomorrow evening.”

  They met, of all places, in Stacia’s backyard the following evening. Bea pulled up in her car and parked, sitting for several minutes until the shadow of wings overhead heralded Niko's arrival. "This is it?" Aeezah asked, unbuckling her seat belt. "I thought it’d be taller."

  She glanced at her daughter, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake. Aeezah liked to talk, and she didn’t want Ben hassling her over bringing their daughter to a gargoyle's house. But she also wanted to decrease the number of times a week she casually dropped Aeezah over at his place. She wasn’t comfortable doing that anymore, considering the circumstances. Niko would just have to accept a child trailing along beside them.

  He landed as she and Aeezah exited her car, meeting her eyes. It always surprised her, how bright gargoyle eyes were in the darkness. As if they possessed their own inner glow. Or it could just be because he was standing in the halo of a street lamp. the wide round disks rested in their bases during the day, and launched at night, powered from the sun, emitting clean pools of light.

  “Did you eat?" he asked. "Good evening, Little Bea."

  Aeezah giggled. He'd won her over last night by beating her hands down in Monopoly, then taking her on with the latest, digital, role-playing game. Bea had listened to them talk weapons, points and paths through some kind of forest, twin goggles on their faces, bemused.

  He'd left her instructions before disappearing for the morning, maybe to go back to his place to sleep, while the human began work. His prowling in her living room all night hadn't helped her sleep, especially since she'd fought the gnawing impulse to invite him to her room. She'd held back, not because she feared he would reject her. She knew he wouldn't. But because she feared she would dive too deep, too quickly. And that he wouldn’t make the dive with her.

  "I saw the menu plan." She moved forward, stopping a hands length in front of him.

  "You don't have enough carbs in your kitchen," he said. "You'll be training, you'll need to fuel more."

  She nodded. She'd adapted to a lower-carb lifestyle years ago and mostly prepared meats and vegetables for herself and Aeezah. Brown rice or lasagna on occasion, and plenty of fruit. But his menu plan upped her grains—healthy, soaked grains. But grains.

  "I didn’t know you were a nutritionist."

  He took her hand and turned, nodding at Aeezah, leading them up the walkway of his parent's home.
"It's the first thing they teach you, how to eat for the kind of calories you’ll be burning. I didn’t pay as much attention when I still lived here because my mother is a warrior's wife, and knows what she's doing in the kitchen." He shrugged. "Though, to be honest, I still mostly eat here."

  Bea's brow rose. He knocked on the front door, and it opened a moment later. It was a very human-looking house. Brick, a freshly mowed yard, and picture windows in the front. It surprised her a bit that it was single-story since gargoyles seemed to insist on above-ground living and landing spaces. But maybe that was Stacia's human influence.

  Niko's mother smiled at her. "Lovely to see you, Bea, come in. And you must be Little Bea, though I know that can't be your name." She gave her son a look. “Veda's in the back. Did you eat yet, Niko?"

  "I grabbed something."

  Bea stifled a giggle at Stacia's expression. The older woman glanced at her anyway, smile wry. "Sit at the kitchen table, I'll make you a pre-workout snack."

  Niko placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the kitchen. Which wasn’t necessary, but she didn’t say anything. His hand was warm on her skin, a welcome weight.

  "He gave me a menu plan this morning," Bea said, taking a seat as Stacia opened the fridge, and various cabinets.

  Stacia hmmed. "I'll bet he did. If only he'd follow his own advice." Aeezah asked to help in her eager voice, and Stacia handed her a bowl of fruit and a knife after glancing at Bea for permission.

  She set bowls of thick yogurt and a plate of sliced fruit and crackers on the table. "Protein and carbs. I remember Niko's training days. He ate all the time."

  "Thank you," Bea said, and ate. "What's the game plan today?"

  Niko ate his yogurt standing up, leaning against the counter. "Conditioning, stretching. A few defensive moves after Veda shows me what she taught you already. We'll train here for a few weeks before requesting admittance to the training class at the tower. You're both old to be starting, so it'll be better if you aren't quite so . . . raw."

  "He just wants to keep you for himself," Veda said, the back door banging open. She was in purple leggings and a halter tank, showing off well-toned arms. Bea eyed the arms enviously. Her muscles were more . . . rounded.