Page 13

She tries to straighten but winces, clearly struggling to move her ankle. I rummage through the rubble, finding a few pieces of flint from what might’ve once been the tower’s supply chest. With a grunt of effort, I spark them until the tinder catches a glow. The small flame licks hungrily at the bark.

Warmth spreads slowly, flickering across the stone walls. Elyria watches me, eyes wide and wary. The glow illuminates her features, painting them in gold and shadow. My chest constricts at the sight of dried blood on her temple and bruises forming down her arms.She’s so breakable.

Silence stretches between us, heavy as the night. Eventually, she speaks, voice barely above a whisper. “I owe you no gratitude for this, gargoyle.”

“I’m not asking for your gratitude.”

“Then why keep me alive at all?” She clenches her jaw. “You said your orders are to kill my kind.”

I stare into the fire. The heat of the flames licks my skin, but I barely feel it. “Because I want to.” Even to my ears, it sounds insufficient. But how can I explain the logic behind my choice? I hardly know it myself.

She makes a sound of disbelief. “Do you get off on… toying with me?”

I snarl. “I’m not a sadist. I don’t torment for pleasure.”Kill, yes, but not torment.“You’ve known real torment from the elves, not from me.”

Her expression cracks with a flicker of haunted memory. “You’re all monsters,” she says, but I notice there’s less force behind the words. She lowers her head, pressing her fingertips to the collar at her throat. “At least with them, I knew what to expect. With you… I don’t.”

Something twists inside me. I shift, wings rustling.I don’t either.“We’ll rest here,” I say, ignoring the tremor in my voice. “I’ll find you food once dawn breaks.”

She startles, clearly not expecting that. “You’re— you’re going tofeedme?”

I scowl. “I’m not an idiot. You’re weak. You need food or you’ll collapse.” My words come out gruff, but there’s a kernel of concern laced within them that I can’t hide.

“I’ve… never heard of a gargoyle feeding a human,” she mutters, eyes flicking to the fire. Her arms tighten around her middle. “What’s your name, anyway?”

That question jolts me.Name?Humans rarely ask me that, and if they do, they don’t live long enough to use it. “Korrin,” I say at last.

She breathes out. “Elyria.”

I nod stiffly. “I know.” Our gazes meet again. A silent current crackles between us—tension, curiosity, perhaps fear. The moment pulses with unspoken words, ones I’m not ready to voice. So I look away, focusing on the dancing flames.

Minutes drag, punctuated by the crackle of wood. When I finally glance back at Elyria, her face is turned away, but I can see the strain in her posture. The exhaustion. The lingering terror that thrums in her every breath. My claws flex, a desire to set her at ease coursing through me.But how?We’re predator and prey, after all. She has every reason to fear me.

I tear a strip of cloth from the half-rotted tapestry hanging off the collapsed tower wall. Wrapping it around my hand, I gingerly reach for her injured ankle. She stiffens, but I tug the torn cloth meaningfully. “Let me bind it.”

Her throat bobs in a nervous swallow. “You want to treat my wounds?”

I grit my teeth. “Would you rather limp around in agony?”

She hesitates, then exhales. “Fine.”

Carefully, I lift her foot onto my thigh. Her entire body quivers with pain, but she doesn’t protest. The flickering firelight gives me just enough illumination to see the swelling.My own hands are steady as I wind the cloth, tying it snug but not too tight. I can’t do much about the bruises or the deeper sprain, but at least it’s a start.

Elyria stares, expression unreadable. Her breathing grows softer, the fight draining out of her, replaced by bone-deep fatigue. When I finish, she murmurs, “Thank you,” so quietly I almost miss it.

I don’t respond. My emotions churn, raw and unfamiliar. I set her leg down gently. The chain at her collar clinks, a stark reminder of her captivity. I swallow a curse that rises in my throat. I want to tear that collar off her, but how would that help? She has nowhere else to go—outside these walls, the rest of my kin would kill her without hesitation.

She looks at the chain, then at me. I can almost sense the question forming on her lips:Will you free me?I have no answer that will satisfy her.

I stand. “Sleep,” I say. “The night is almost done. At dawn, I’ll hunt.”

Her mouth twists. “I can’t exactly run away with a busted ankle, can I?”

It’s not quite an admission of trust, but it’s close enough. I grunt and move to the other side of the ruin, where I settle against a slab of fallen masonry. My wings fold tight around my shoulders, forming a partial shield against the night air. I keep an ear tuned to her breathing, half-expecting her to try crawling away. But the minutes tick on, and she doesn’t stir.

At some point, her breathing grows shallow and rhythmic. She’s fallen into an uneasy sleep. I let my head tip back, staring at the star-flecked sliver of sky above the broken tower walls. A hundred questions rattle in my mind. Tomorrow, the next day…How do I keep her hidden?My kind won’t let her live if they find out I’ve spared her. The Alpha will kill her and punish me in ways I can barely imagine.

But the thought of handing her over, or seeing her terror-laced eyes as I put a claw through her heart, makes every muscle in my body reject the possibility. Something about her draws me in like a magnet, even if it defies all I’ve known.