Page 17 of The Gargoyle and the Maiden (Nightfall Guardians #1)

Brandt

I dabel’s scent drenched his nest like dew.

Brandt lingered in the doorway, breathing it in, their new mate bond thrumming through him like a second heartbeat.

She’d reach the apothecary soon. He could feel the short distance stretching between them, the bond gossamer thin.

But no matter how far it stretched, it would never break.

He wanted to shout it from the highest tier: I have a mate . He would have to keep it quiet for now, though. If it became known before he deployed, the Nadir would surely get involved, and a Council review might jeopardize his position.

Instead, he forced himself to dress, buckling on his leathers. The barely-visible scars where Idabel had stitched him felt like badges of honor. He was used to healing quickly, but this was swifter than he’d experienced before. His mate’s skills made his chest tighten with pride.

By the time he made his way to the training tier, the last stragglers of the Sixth Watch had finally reported from the outlying villages, and the air crackled with energy. Everyone was on edge, knowing deployment was imminent.

Rikard approached him immediately, fist to his horns in formal salute. “Commander.”

“Ready to train?” The young gargoyle’s posture was subdued. Good. The near-disaster had knocked some sense into him.

“More than ready.” Rikard’s jaw set with determination. “I won’t disappoint you again.”

Brandt jerked a nod and gestured for him to rejoin his gathering watchmates. After welcoming the new recruits and pairing them with those who’d been training for weeks, the sparring began in earnest.

He circled the pairs, calling corrections and occasionally demonstrating a defensive maneuver. But his focus kept slipping to Idabel when her emotions whispered against his consciousness. He could feel her worry mixed with a giddy joy. She was thinking of him.

He should wall her off during training, but too soon he’d have to build stronger defenses around their bond. So strong he might forget her for the full length of his deployment. He wanted to enjoy their connection while he could. He wanted to bask in it like a dragon in its hoard.

“Commander?” Rikard’s voice cut through his personal reverie. “Should we rehearse flight formations?”

Brandt nodded, shaking off his personal reverie. He had a responsibility to his wing of the watch. These gargoyles trusted him to keep them alive. But even as he directed them through banking turns and attack patterns, part of him was still counting the hours until he could see his mate again.

If he could see her again. Now that all of his wing had reported, their deployment could be any time. The thought made him drive them, channeling his full attention into the training. By the time he called for a break, they were all breathing hard, wings drooping with exhaustion.

“Good. You have earned your rest,” he told them, and meant it. Even Rikard had redeemed himself, his natural talent finally tempered with a little discipline. “Our departure is imminent. Don’t feast yourselves stupid tonight.”

They made their way to the banquet hall together. The space echoed with voices and wingbeats as three wings of the Sixth Watch gathered to feast around the long tables. Human servants scurried between them with platters of roasted ox and flagons of mead, and clouds of moths tittered overhead.

He found himself perched beside Evrard, a weathered cliffborn who was among the last to report, their narrow rail at the edge of the chaos.

The older gargoyle tore into his meat with his full focus, but Brandt noticed how he darted glances at the others each time they laughed as a group, trying and failing to get in on the joke.

Both of them were outsiders by circumstance.

“Do they always eat this well in the Tower?” Evrard asked in the old tongue.

“Yes.”

“Bastards.”

Despite his mood, Brandt’s mouth twitched. “Bastards,” he agreed, grateful for the uncomplicated honesty.

He studied Evrard’s profile, taking in his flattened nose and well-gnawed ear.

This was the kind of gargoyle who should have been his father.

A steady, hornless, broad-shouldered male who would have treasured a mate like Ghantal.

Who would have been proud to introduce her to his family. Who would have loved his own son.

These were the good-hearted gargoyles who he’d lead into battle.

The ones whose lives he carried on his shoulders.

Some of these laughing, feasting gargoyles wouldn’t return.

He’d have to carve their names into his hide.

Inform their families they’d fought well.

That’s if he were lucky enough to return himself.

“Something wrong?” Evrard asked, glancing sideways at him. “I understand if you can’t tell the whole watch, but I’d rather know than not.”

Brandt shook his head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I always wonder which ones.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. Understanding flickered across Evrard’s scarred features. The older gargoyle tossed back his mead and held out the goblet for a refill. As a keeper poured the heady liquid sloshed over his knuckles, drawing Brandt attention to the blunted claws on two fingers.

Recognition surged through him. “You have a human mate!”

“How did you guess?”

He held up his own hand, showing his bitten claws. They shared a look of perfect understanding. The sweet torture of loving someone so fragile.

“It will get easier once we reach Meravenna and build our mind walls for battle,” Brandt said, though the words rang hollow. “We won’t be distracted by thoughts of our mates until we take them down again. Our focus will be single-minded.”

“I want to remember her. I want a reason to come home.”

The raw honesty in Evrard’s voice made Brandt’s stomach clench. Through the bond, he felt for Idabel. When she sent an answering surge of affection, he knew he’d gladly die with her name on his lips rather than forget her for even a moment.

“You’ll remember, even with your wall up.

The mate bond will pull you back, even if you can’t recall her face or form.

” He said it for himself as much as for Evrard.

“She’ll be able to sense you through the bite.

She’ll know if you’re alive or dead, well or injured.

It will be a comfort to her, and your family will keep her safe until you get back. ”

Evrard went completely still, like Brandt had stunned him with a blow. “I didn’t bite her. I wanted to, but there was no time. It would have been—”

“Impulsive.” Brandt’s fingers curled into a fist, feeling the phantom warmth of Idabel’s skin. “I understand. We are not that.” Usually. But when it came to his mate, his impulses always won, and he didn’t regret it.

“I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“You did her no favors withholding it.” The words came out harsher than intended, colored by his own relief at having claimed Idabel while he could.

“I didn’t know whether she shared my regard. But I did not ask, and now it’s too late.”

Brandt studied the older gargoyle’s dejected posture. “Does she dwell here in Solvantis?”

“Brinehelm. Southeast of here. It’s by the sea.”

The opposite direction from Meravenna. Brandt’s tail drew patterns in the dust as he considered. Through the bond, he felt Idabel’s quiet contentment as she worked, unaware of his turmoil. He made his decision.

After checking that no eavesdropping moths lingered near the candles, he leaned closer.

“Our watch deploys tomorrow. I’ll put your swarm on the outer wing.

After launch, you can divert from the formation and fly through Brinehelm to bond with her, then meet us in Meravenna.

Don’t dally or you’ll be struck from the watch. I can only make excuses for so long.”

Evrard’s eyes widened. “You would do that?”

“We protect what’s ours.” Brandt thought of Idabel’s bite mark, still fresh on her shoulder. “Take the chance while you have it.”

The gratitude in Evrard’s weathered face was almost embarrassing. Brandt turned his attention back to his meal, but his appetite had fled. Tomorrow night. They would deploy tomorrow night, and he might not see Idabel before he left.

The feast continued around them, young gargoyles boasting about their prowess and making wagers on goblin kills.

Brandt let their enthusiasm wash over him without participating.

Through the bond, he felt Idabel growing tired, her emotions muted with exhaustion.

He wanted to fly to her, carry her home, and tuck her into his nest where she belonged.

In another life, he would have.

Instead, he stayed until the last of his wing had eaten their fill, then dismissed them to the watchcote to ready for tomorrow’s deployment. The Tower felt too quiet as he flew to his tier, the hollow core echoing with his wingbeats.

Ghantal sat in their dining chamber, a pale-green moth perched on her shoulder like a living brooch.

It gently fanned its wings as she polished his steel bracers.

They gleamed in the moonlight streaming in from the balcony.

She looked up as he entered, eyes as bright as the shiny metal in her hands.

“I thought you might want this set for tomorrow.”

She must have heard about the deployment being moved up from her little winged spy. He nodded, heart heavy. “Those will do well. We need to talk.” He dragged over a stone stool so he could perch beside her. “You know I love you more than life itself. I owe everything to you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What have you done?”

No point in delaying. “I’ve taken a mate.”

“Ooh! First I’ve heard of that!” the moth exclaimed, beating its wings so excitedly that it lifted into the air to circle around their heads.

Ghantal stopped polishing. “Who? Which family? There will be little time to hold a bonding ceremony, but with some luck, I can schedule a high-tier gallery to hold it in before you deploy.”

“No need. I have claimed her already. Her name is Idabel.” He kept his voice steady in anticipation of her disapproval. “She’s human. She works in the Tower.”

The moth gasped and giggled. “A human mate?! What a terrible joke. It’s not even funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

The silence cut deep as a chasm. Ghantal’s expression cycled through shock, disappointment, and finally settled on careful neutrality.

“Human.” She folded the polishing cloth with deliberate calm. “A keeper, you said? From one of the administrative families? I’m surprised I didn’t hear of her from the moths.”

“No. She’s a refugee from the south. Like us.” He moved closer, needing her to understand. “She’s a remarkable female. Beautiful and clever and—”

“Human.” Ghantal’s wings rustled with agitation. “You’d throw away everything we’ve built for a human?”

He balked. “I’ve thrown away nothing. What have I lost?”

“A human mate can’t secure our family’s position. Won’t give you highborn hatchlings. Won’t—” She broke off, seeing the truth in his expression. She sighed. “You love her.”

“He loves her,” the moth sighed, spiraling dizzily to the floor, where after one or two feeble fans of its iridescent wings, it expired. They never lasted long.

“That’s why I need your help.” He knelt before his mother, taking her hands. She patted them fondly as he continued. “Look after her while I’m gone. Help her adjust to life in the Tower. She has no family in Solvantis. She will be lonely.”

“You want me to tend your human pet?”

“I want you to protect my mate.” His voice carried enough command that Ghantal straightened. “Please, Mother. For me.”

She studied his face for a long moment, then sighed. “She’ll need more than protection. Humans know nothing of our ways. And when word spreads—”

“Teach her. Introduce her to the right families. The talk will die out eventually.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ll be gone.” But her tone had softened with resignation. He was lucky she was a good mother and wanted to see her child happy. “What’s she like, this human who’s ensnared you?”

“You’ll like her.” He squeezed her hands.

“She’s ambitious and hardworking, like you.

Stronger than she looks. And she makes me feel.

..” He struggled for words. Through the bond, Idabel’s exhaustion was deepening.

She was probably heading home to Maiden Hall to sleep for a few hours before her shift in the Tower.

“She makes me feel like myself. Not the commander, not the cliffborn climbing ranks. Just myself.”

Ghantal’s expression softened further. “I’ll look after her, but don’t expect miracles when you get back. I can’t grow her a pair of wings.”

“Thank you.” He rose, suddenly exhausted. “I should rest. Tomorrow will be a long night.”

“Will you be able to see her before you leave?”

“I don’t know.” The uncertainty gnawed at him. Through the bond, he felt Idabel settling into sleep, her emotions quieting to a warm contentment that made his chest ache. “I hope so.”

Ghantal stood, gathering her polishing supplies. “If you don’t, I’ll tell her you wanted to. Females set store by such things.”

She retreated to her chamber, leaving him alone with the dying candles and the distant warmth of his mate’s sleeping mind.

Tomorrow, the Sixth Watch would deploy. Tomorrow, he would leave his mate behind, possibly forever.

But tonight, at least, she was safe and content, the bond humming between them.

He broke his own rules and roosted in his nesting chamber so he could breathe in her scent for one more day.