Page 30 of The Gargoyle and the Maiden (Nightfall Guardians #1)

Idabel

I dabel pressed her ear to the door, heart hammering. It couldn’t be him. How did he find her? He was here. After six years, he was here, and he was calling her name like the world was ending.

Maybe it was. She yanked open the door before she could think better of it.

Time stopped.

He loomed in her doorway like a figure from her dreams, broader than she remembered, new scars writing stories across his hide.

His hair was wet and plastered against one side of his face.

His wings bunched high, his chest heaved, and his gray eyes—Lo?c’s eyes, her son’s eyes, the eyes that always reflected her own face—were wide and devastated.

“Idabel,” he repeated, the sound like breaking glass to her ears because it promised so many wounds.

Every instinct screamed to throw herself into his arms. To invite him in, touch the new scars, assure herself he was real.

But Lo?c slept in his bed. His toy war bat lay visible on the floor behind her, and his small wooden sword leaned against the wall.

Evidence of the son Brandt didn’t know existed was scattered throughout the rooms.

They couldn’t have a real conversation if Lo?c woke up, and they needed to have some difficult ones before he met his son.

“Brandt.” She stepped into the corridor, pulling the door nearly closed behind her. “You’re here. I can hardly believe my eyes. How did you find my apartment?”

He cleared his throat. “Your scent.”

She smiled, remembering how he’d absconded with her so he could memorize it. He reached for her face, then jerked back as if burned, curling his fingers into a fist.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked, his voice low. “Will you come to our nest tonight?”

“I can’t. Not tonight.” There was so much he didn’t know and needed to know, but this wasn’t the time. His expression made her heart fall. She rushed to add, “We have so much to say to one another. Six years of stories to tell. Can we meet tomorrow?”

He studied her like she might evaporate. New scars crossed his face, and weariness weighted his shoulders. Had he always been so tall and serious?

“Tomorrow.” He said it like he was testing the word. “You want me to leave now.”

“I want to talk properly. Privately.” She tipped her head toward the curious faces peeking from nearby doorways. She couldn’t help herself, though. Under the prying eyes, she reached out, fingers barely grazing his arm. It was wet. He’d flown here in the rain. “Are you well?”

He shuddered at the touch, and a hollow laugh escaped him. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you’re living here. You should be in our nest. You should be with me.”

Her eyes stung, and she pressed her lips together. “It’s complicated.” The understatement of the century. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow. I’ll come to your eyrie. I still have a key.”

He nodded slowly, like movement hurt. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she promised.

He left without another word, but she felt his presence fade like a physical ache. She stood in the puddle he’d left in the corridor until her neighbors retreated into their rooms and her hands stopped shaking, until she could trust herself to go back inside without screaming.

Lo?c had slept through it all, wings tucked around himself like a blanket. His horns were budding, pushing through the skin on his forehead. He was getting so big. She sat on the edge his bed, admiring his peaceful face, and made her decision.

The next evening, before she picked up Lo?c from flying lessons, she braved the rain and walked the slick streets to the cobbler’s shop where Hannalinde lived in the shabby rooms above.

She’d lost everything when Lord Wilkin was executed for his crimes and now scraped out a living doing mending for more common people.

No more silks and satins for the daughter of Lamont.

Now she patched elbows and knees and wore little calluses on her fingertips.

She and Idabel had become good friends since her fall from grace in the palace quarter, drawn together by the disgust that most people felt toward both of them for their involvement in the whole treasonous scandal.

Few others could understand the weight of the world’s revile as they did.

It had been a very public trial, and the streets of Solvantis had a long memory.

“Could Lo?c stay with you tonight?” Idabel kept her voice light. “I have Tower business that might run late.”

“Of course.” Hannalinde’s expression was shrewd. “I heard the Sixth Watch is back. Was your mate among them?”

“One of two who returned.” The fact sobered them both. Idabel bit her lip. “He doesn’t know…what everyone else knows. I need to tell him before I introduce him to Lo?c. See how he reacts.”

“To see if he’s safe to parent your son. I’d do the same.” Hannalinde squeezed her rain-damp shoulder. “Take your time. Lo?c will be fine here with me. We can play cat’s cradle. I have my old game board here somewhere, too!”

Later, after leaving Lo?c at Hanna’s, the two of them chattering excitedly about a scaccus match, Idabel climbed the interior ladders to the fifth tier. Her key still worked, but the door opened before she could turn it.

“I wasn’t sure you would actually come.” Ghantal looked relieved.

“Of course I came. He’s my mate.”

“Was.” The correction was gentle, but it felt like a slap.

She hung her head. She had to accept what she’d done, as painful as it was. “I know. I’ll tell him the truth.”

“Be cautious with your timing.” Ghantal darted a look back to check whether Brandt was within earshot.

“He’s improving, but his mind is fragile.

Learning about your blood being used against him, about the broken bond…

it could shatter what progress he’s made.

This meeting is far too early, in my opinion, but nobody can stop my son when he sets his mind to something.

Once he remembered you, I couldn’t prevent him from going after you. ”

“What do I tell him, then?” Everything she wanted to say to him was forbidden. Idabel wanted to cry already.

“Enough to ease his heart. Not enough to break it.” Ghantal glanced toward the inner chambers again. “He’s been pacing since dusk, waiting for you. I’ll leave you to speak alone.”

Idabel found him in front of the high, peaked windows, a dim silhouette against the cloudy night. He turned at her footsteps, and the joy that transformed his face nearly undid her.

“You’re here.” He crossed to her in three strides, then stopped just out of reach. “You’re real.”

“I’m real.”

“Can I—” He gestured helplessly. “I want to hold you, but I’m not...I don’t trust myself. The war made me—”

“I trust you.” She closed the distance for him, pressing against his chest. His arms came around her like city walls, solid and protective. He buried his face in her hair, breathing deep, and she felt him tremble.

“Idabel.” Her name was a whisper against her neck. “My Idabel.”

Then he was kissing her, desperate and so, so careful, like she might dissolve in his hands. The spark between them reignited instantly. Not the mate bond, that was long gone, but pure chemistry. History. Wanting that had survived six years of separation.

When they broke apart, his hands framed her face. “Tell me truth. Did you take another mate while I was gone?”

“Never.” The word came out fierce. “I would never love anyone as I love you. Why would you think that?”

His whole body sagged with relief, but then he frowned down at her, still puzzled over something. “You live in the rookery in a family roost. I could smell another male on your doorstep.”

He’d smelled Lo?c , she realized. Oh, if he only knew how misplaced his jealousy.

“It’s close quarters,” she fibbed lightly. “Many gargoyles cross my doorstep each day.”

“You should be here. Unless—” His expression darkened. “Did my mother welcome you? I asked her to help you make your home here. If she did not…”

“Ghantal has been nothing but kind.” Mostly true. “We agreed the rookery was best. She has a great understanding of Tower politics. A human in the commander’s quarters while he was at war would have caused the wrong kind of talk.”

Not a lie, exactly. There had been talk. Terrible talk. The human who’d betrayed the Sixth Watch, whose blood had been used to track and destroy them. She’d been lucky the rookery dwellers would let her live there. The only reason she’d been accepted was her pregnancy with Lo?c.

“Politics.” He spat the word. “I don’t care about politics. I care about my mate .”

Oh, fallen gods.

He pulled her close again, wings coming around them both. “My reputation means nothing without you at my side.”

She pressed her face against his chest, hiding the tears that threatened. “I wished for you to come back. Every day. Every night. I never stopped hoping you were alive and well.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry it took so long to return to you. And I’m sorry about the bond. I can barely feel it. My mind is so damaged, all these walls I can’t break down. I’ve weakened us. Weakened what we had. I’m trying so hard to get it back, though.”

Her heart stuttered. He was apologizing for her betrayal, taking blame for her choice to sever their connection. “Don’t. Never apologize to me.”

“But—”

“No. You survived.” She pulled back to meet his eyes. “You came home. That’s all that matters.”

“You deserve more than this broken version of me.”

“You owe me nothing.”

“But I want to give you everything.” He cupped her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. “Once I’m healed. Once these walls come down, I will court you properly. Publicly. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. He was offering her everything she’d dreamed of, not knowing she was the reason he’d almost died. Not knowing about Lo?c. Not knowing anything except that he loved her still.

“We have time,” she managed finally. “All the time we need.”

A falsehood. Every moment that passed without telling him about their son was another betrayal. But looking at him now, thinner than before, with unfamiliar scars, eyes haunted by what he’d seen, she couldn’t add to his burden. Not yet.

“Come lie with me,” he begged. “In our nest, where you belong.”

“I can’t.” At his expression, she added quickly, “Not yet. You’re still healing. We should take things slowly.”

“Six years apart wasn’t slow enough?”

“Brandt—”

“You’re right.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his breath gusting out, smelling of petrichor. “I’m not safe. Not yet. The masons say I could still have episodes . I couldn’t forgive myself if I hurt you.”

“You would never hurt me.”

“Not the old me. But this me?” He pulled back, and she saw the fear in his eyes. “I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore.”

“Then we’ll learn together.” With a squeeze around his waist, she broke their connection. Her heart gave a hollow thud. “Should I visit again tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow. Every tomorrow until you’re ready to come home.”

She kissed him once more, pouring all her love and guilt and hope into it. Then she left before her resolve crumbled and she confessed everything. Before she destroyed the fragile new connection they’d found.

She climbed down to the rookery feeling lighter and heavier at once. Brandt was alive, still loved her, wanted a future with her. But between them lay secrets that could destroy everything: a son he didn’t know existed, a betrayal he didn’t remember, and a severed bond that couldn’t be restored.

Tomorrow , he’d said. Every tomorrow.

She wondered how many tomorrows they’d have before the truth came crashing down.