Page 18 of The Gargoyle and the Maiden (Nightfall Guardians #1)

Idabel

S he was so late, the shop windows were already dark except for the faint glow of a lantern seeping from the back room.

Its light painted golden strips between the shelves of amber bottles.

She tried the door and found it unlocked.

The brass bell above it chimed as Idabel slipped inside, where she was enveloped by the familiar scent of dried lavender and bitter tinctures.

“Betje, are you still here?” Idabel’s voice came out rough, her throat tender from crying out Brandt’s name. The soreness between her legs was making itself apparent now, too.

A crash echoed from the workroom, followed by rapid footsteps. Betje appeared in the doorway, her auburn coils wild and spectacles slightly askew.

“Thank the fallen gods.” Betje crossed the shop in three strides and gripped Idabel’s upper arms, examining her for damage before tugging her into the brighter light of the back room.

Relief transformed her face so completely that Idabel’s chest tightened with guilt.

“When you didn’t come, I sent someone to Maiden Hall.

They said they hadn’t seen you, and I thought” —her voice cracked as she pulled Idabel into a crushing hug that smelled of her familiar rosemary and ink—”I feared that you’d been badly hurt.

I thought a gargoyle had killed you. I never should have put you up to Lord Wilkin’s scheme.

It’s far too risky. We’ll find another way. ”

“I’m sorry.” The words felt inadequate for the worry she’d caused poor Betje. “I should have sent word, but it all happened so quickly.”

“Are you hurt?” Betje’s hands moved to frame Idabel’s face, turning it toward the lantern light. “Did one of them attack you? That young one you mentioned, or—”

“No. Not him. Brandt intercepted me on my way here.”

Betje’s eyes widened behind her spectacles. “The commander who destroyed your garden? What did he want?”

Heat crept up Idabel’s neck as she nodded. “He carried me to his roost.”

Betje’s blinked like an owl. “Why in Tael-Nost did he do that?”

“He wanted to know what I smelled like.”

“He wanted to smell you?” Betje’s voice pitched higher with each word.

“And then he...we...” Idabel’s hand drifted to her shoulder where the bite mark throbbed beneath her chemise. Even through the fabric, she could feel the raised edges where his teeth had pierced her skin. “He asked me to be his mate.”

The workroom fell so quiet that Idabel could hear the candle crackling in the lantern. Betje’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged.

“I said yes,” Idabel clarified.

“Mated. You’re mated to a gargoyle.” Betje pulled off her spectacles to clean them on her apron, as if clear lenses might change what she’d heard. “The commander who destroyed your illegally grown herbs has claimed you as his mate.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds strange.”

“It is strange!” But Betje’s shock was already melting into something warmer. “Oh, you’re brilliant. This is even better than a bite. A mate bond! They can’t punish him for claiming his mate, but it’s a clear violation of the treaty.”

“Actually, they bite their mates.” Idabel sheepishly pulled the neckline aside, revealing the perfect imprint of Brandt’s teeth.

Betje gave a low whistle. “How do you feel? Does it hurt? Do you want a comfrey poultice?”

“No, I’m fine.” The warm throb of the healing wound felt like she was carrying sunlight under her skin.

“I told you he was your gargoyle.” Betje grinned, and Idabel couldn’t help the answering smile that spread across her own face.

“Now that I think about it, this isn’t as strange as it first appears.

Gargoyles have always taken mates from other species.

Why do you think they’re all so different from one other?

Some have horns, some none. Some have long tails and others short, and so on. Those variations aren’t chance.”

Idabel pulled back. “What do you mean?”

“They’re all chimeras. Part gargoyle, part whatever their ancestors mated with. Dragon, fae, human. Even goblin, though no one speaks of that anymore.” Betje’s fae marks glimmered faintly in the dim light as she smiled. “Your children will be unique. Part of both worlds. Like me.”

Children. The word sent a flutter through Idabel’s stomach. She could still feel the echo of Brandt inside her, the weight of him, the way he’d been so tender and patient with her. The way his body had stretched hers, both asked and gave.

Three sharp raps on the shop door shattered her thoughts.

“That’ll be Lord Wilkin.” Betje smoothed her apron with quick strokes. “I sent a message to him when you didn’t arrive. I thought he might have connections to help find out what happened to you.”

“It’s fine.” Though Idabel’s pulse quickened with dread. She wasn’t ready to report the bite, not with Brandt deploying tomorrow.

Betje opened the door, and Lord Wilkin swept inside. His cravat was loose, as if he’d dressed hastily, and his jaw was tight with controlled irritation.

“Well?” His gaze fixed on Betje before sliding to Idabel. “I assume there’s been some resolution, since you’re both standing here looking perfectly healthy?”

“My lord, I apologize for the inconvenience.” Idabel dropped into a curtsy. “There was a misunderstanding. I was delayed at the Tower and couldn’t send word.”

“Delayed.” He drew out the word like he was tasting wine. “How tedious. And here I thought we might have something interesting to discuss. Better you’d been mauled.”

Idabel sucked in a breath, but before she could respond, Betje reached to tug aside the edge of her chemise. Lord Wilkin’s words died mid-sentence. His entire demeanor transformed, his disgust melting into something sharp and hungry.

He crossed to her in two strides, leaning close to her so she could smell the rich tobacco on his breath. “Is that what I think it is?”

Idabel stepped back, hand flying to her shoulder. “No.”

“It’s a bite.” His voice held triumph. “You actually did it.”

“It’s not what you think—”

“Isn’t it?” He circled her like a wolf evaluating prey. “A gargoyle sank its teeth into you. This is exactly the evidence we need. The king cannot ignore such a violation of the ancient agreements.”

“I’ll call the king’s physician to document your wound.” Lord Wilkin’s hand settled on her elbow with proprietary familiarity. “Come along. My carriage is just outside. You can stay in Lamont House tonight.”

“No!” Idabel slipped from his grip, edging closer to Betje. Lord Wilkin scowled at her small defiance. Flustered, she fumbled for an excuse. “I mean, I couldn’t, my lord. The keepers would see it as inappropriate. I’ll lose my bed in Maiden Hall if I travel with you so late without a chaperone.”

“And?” He laughed, the sound sharp as breaking glass. “You’ll lose your bed when you leave your position, anyway.”

“There is every reason to observe propriety.” Betje stepped forward, her tone respectful but firm. “Idabel’s reputation must be unquestionable if her testimony is to carry weight.”

Lord Wilkin’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “A fair point. Tomorrow, then. My daughter will be present to serve as chaperone for the meeting with the physician. Shall we say fourteenth bell?”

“I have duties at the Tower—”

“Which I will ensure you’re excused from.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re doing something magnificent for Solvantis. The least I can do is handle such trivial obstacles.”

“You’re very kind.” The words tasted like ash.

“Until tomorrow, then.” He paused at the door. Without turning back, he added, “Don’t think of disappearing. It would be a shame if we had to involve the Nadir immediately, before proper statements could be prepared.”

The threat hung in the air long after the door closed behind him.

“Well.” Betje locked the door with a decisive click. “That was unpleasant.”

“Do you think he knows about mating bites?” Idabel’s heart thundered. “Will he report it?”

“I doubt he’ll report anything until it serves his own interests.” Betje gnawed her lip pensively.

“He can’t force me to testify against Brandt, can he?”

“He’s a lord with the king’s ear. He can do quite a lot, but I don’t think he can squeeze a name out of you unless you want to tell him.” Betje moved to the workroom, pulling bottles from shelves with practiced efficiency. “Tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, we celebrate.”

“Celebrate what? I may have put Brandt in terrible danger.”

“You’ve found love. That’s worth celebrating, regardless of the complications.” Betje mixed a few ingredients into two clay cups of mead: meadowsweet tincture, her own dried basil, a drop of wormwood.

She handed Idabel one cup and raised her own. “The poison and the antidote in one draught. To love that knows no laws.”

“To love.” The concoction tasted of summer honey and licorice and made Idabel’s tongue tingle.

Warmth spread through her chest, loosening the knot of anxiety that had formed during Lord Wilkin’s visit.

“Maybe documenting the bite will be enough. Lord Wilkin hasn’t heard Brandt’s name.

If I don’t tell anyone until after the deployment… ”

Betje nodded, sipping her own drink. “There’s no reason he needs to know that right now.

If he suspects it’s a mating bite, you could offer to go into detail about what it was like mating with a monster in front of his prim little daughter.

” She snickered at her own joke, and Idabel choked on her mouthful of mead, spitting it back into her cup.

The girl had seemed perfectly nice, but she definitely had delicate sensibilities.

“Speaking of the mating,” Betje said eventually, her voice warm with mead and frank curiosity. “Not the intimate details, but...what was it like? Did he treat you well? Ahh, I see from your blush he did.”

Tipsy already, Idabel refilled her cup. “He was very kind,” she mumbled into it.

“Kind?” There was a laugh in Betje’s voice.

“I needed kindness.” For some stupid reason, her eyes stung.

“Ah, sweet thing.” Betje leaned to squeeze her around the shoulders. “Don’t we all. Don’t we all.”

“He’s leaving tomorrow.” The reality of it hit fresh. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if a night or two is all we ever have?”

Betje reached across her lap to squeeze her hand. “That’s more than many get.”

Through the bond, she felt Brandt’s attention shift to her, gently questioning. She sent back her own contentment, tinged with longing. Tomorrow night seemed impossibly far away. She had to get through all of the daylight hours first.

“I should go.” Idabel stood, swaying slightly as the honeyed concoction made her head swim. “The keepers will wonder why I’m not in my bed come morning. Must maintain propriety, mustn’t I? At least for a few more days.” She shared a rueful grin with Betje.

“Take this.” Betje pressed a small glass ampoule into her hand.

Idabel’s fingers closed around it automatically. “What is it?”

“You know the charms you wear in the villages if you don’t want children? It’s like that. Drink it tonight, and it will protect you for a few days.”

Idabel hadn’t worn one of the clay amulets around her wrist like other women in her village because she’d never found a man who interested her in that way, but she knew the charms weren’t allowed in Solvantis because they were infused with tael.

“It’s magical?” she asked, peering at the cloudy liquid inside.

“No, it’s medicine. But it works the same. It should prevent his seed from taking.”

Everything in her stilled. She had not considered a child . Her empty hand went immediately to her belly. “I don’t need it,” she said automatically, even though her mind was still reeling. She handed it back.

Betje tucked it away. “I can show you how to make it for yourself if you change your mind.”

“Thank you,” she said. Betje waved her hand like it was nothing, so Idabel pressed to make sure she was understood. “For worrying about me. For celebrating with me. For teaching me. For everything.”

Betje’s smile was soft and teary. “That’s what family does, and you and I are the nearest thing we’ve got.”