Page 40 of The Gargoyle and the Maiden (Nightfall Guardians #1)

Idabel

T he next evening after work at the shop, Ghantal invited her to watch Lo?c’s flying lessons.

Her aim was transparent: she wanted to know how Brandt was doing.

But she didn’t rush the conversation. First, they sat on the platform and watched the fledglings take turns launching into the air, pretending to admire all of them even though they were only interested in one.

When it was Lo?c’s turn, he waved at them, and they both waved back. Idabel held her breath as he dove from the platform, beating his wings twice before gliding to the third post.

Ghantal crowed, “He did it! That was excellent form. I think he’s growing into those wide wings of his.”

“They are wide, aren’t they?” Idabel’s maternal pride swelled as she watched him make his way back to the platform, where he landed without any wobbles or falls. A fledgling two or three years younger than Lo?c mounted the perch and readied for takeoff, and Lo?c ran back to the end of the line.

“How is he?” Ghantal asked abruptly. The older gargoyle’s dignity couldn’t quite hide her desperation.

“I think he’s improving.” It was the truth. There was no need to mention the terrible incident last night. “I’m sure he misses you. You should come for dinner tonight.”

“He banished me completely,” Ghantal said dryly. “I’m not allowed inside the eyrie.”

“He’s had time for his temper to cool.”

Ghantal gave a skeptical laugh. “My son is the most stubborn gargoyle I know. I’ll wait until I’m invited.”

“I’m inviting you! It’s my home now, too,” Idabel protested.

Ghantal patted her shoulder. “I have a few apologies to make before we’re ready for a family feast. The first one is to you.”

Shock rolled over her. She’d always understood why Ghantal acted the way she did.

She always did what she thought was best for Brandt and Lo?c, and Idabel loved her for it, even if they weren’t close.

“For what?! Fallen gods, you’ve been nothing but generous to me.

I would never have survived the last six years without you.

We haven’t been bosom friends, but you’ve been a great help to me. ”

Ghantal sighed. “I hate to say it, but the truth is that I did not think you worthy of my son. I was glad when you wanted to break the mate bond. I should have fought you on it, and for that, I have regrets. I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t. I’m not worthy of him.” It was simply true. She couldn’t pretend otherwise. “I don’t deserve him. It’s just that he loves me anyway.”

“You fit together. I see it now. I should not have kept you apart, and I’m sorry for it.” Ghantal didn’t say more, and they both watched silently as the next few fledglings took their turns before it was Lo?c’s chance again.

He had another successful flight, landing with a whoop. Ghantal and Idabel stood and cheered.

“I really think he’s got it,” Idabel said, feeling slightly envious that even her baby boy could fly when she couldn’t. It must be so exhilarating to be able to defy gravity like that. “We should celebrate. We should have a party!”

“A Fledging.” Hope flared in Ghantal’s eyes. “I wonder if Brandt would let me attend.”

“Of course, he will. I’ll make sure he does.”

But when she broached the subject later that night, Brandt scowled at her. “Absolutely not.”

“She’s his grandmother! Plus, she took him to all his flying lessons and paid for them, too.”

“I paid for them,” he growled. “She used my coin.”

“Aren’t you glad she did? I certainly couldn’t afford them.”

“If she’d treated you as she should have, you would have had access to the account yourself. But she hid you away in the rookery so her political machinations weren’t disrupted. She’s a manipulator who—”

“Who worked tirelessly to bring you home. Who took care of her grandchild because she loves him. Yes, she made a decision or two that you disagree with.” Idabel touched his arm, feeling his conflict through the bond.

“I’m not asking you to forgive her. Just..

.don’t deny Lo?c his grandparent. He has no others. Let her come to the fledging party.”

He grumbled. “Fine. But I don’t want to speak to her.”

“That’s fair.”

“She doesn’t deserve my trust.”

“I know.” She knew too well. She didn’t deserve it, either.

T hey chose their guest list well. Everyone they’d invited came to the Fledging: A few of Lo?c’s friends from the rookery.

Betje and Hannalinde, who’d never been inside the Tower before but had bravely volunteered to help with the event.

André the flight instructor. Even Bardoux and one of Brandt’s commanders and his family.

Idabel surveyed the noisy group with satisfaction. Betje arranged honey-soaked lavender cakes on a platter while Hannalinde helped two young fledglings serve themselves roast turkey legs, Ghantal poured mead for the adults, and Lo?c demonstrated his wingspan to anyone who would watch.

“Look!” he announced, spreading them wide as he perched on the long side of the table in the dining room. “I can almost reach end-to-end!” He gave an experimental flap and nearly knocked over the honeycakes.

“Well done, Lo!” Ghantal caught the platter of cakes before it could fall and gently guided Lo?c to a clear spot in the room where he’d have more room to show off without breaking anything.

Brandt’s jaw tightened a little at the easy affection between grandmother and grandson.

Idabel put her arm around his waist, trying to cajole him out of his tense mood.

All the chaos wasn’t doing him any favors.

“She loves him. You can’t begrudge her that.

She’s been his connection to his gargoyle side, which is something I couldn’t give him. And he’s been her connection to you.”

“She should have honored his mother, then,” Brandt snapped.

“She did. She honored my choice, even though it was a wrong one. She helped me more times than I can count. To me, that matters more than anything she may have thought of me. She is proud and prickly, but I love her because Lo?c loves her. And she regrets helping me break the bond. She apologized to me.”

She thought she saw Brandt’s expression soften slightly. But in the interest of a happy Fledging celebration, she spoke no more of it, and Ghantal deftly stayed out of Brandt’s way for the rest of the party.

When the honeycakes had been decimated and the young fledglings were yawning because dawn was near, Brandt stood. “Lo?c, come here.”

Their son bounded over, still vibrating with excitement. Brandt produced something from behind his back—a moonstone, set in a silver pendant and strung on a leather cord.

“Every gargoyle from the cliffs receives one of these on their first flight,” Brandt said solemnly, fastening it around Lo?c’s neck. “I received it when I flew for the first time. It belonged to my mother, and her father before that, and his father before him. Now it’s yours.”

Lo?c’s eyes went huge as he felt the pendant. “Really? It’s mine?”

“Until you have a fledgling of your own, and you pass it on.”

Idabel’s throat tightened as Lo?c threw his arms around Brandt, who hoisted him into the air. Through the bond, she felt Brandt’s fierce pride, both in their son’s rite of passage and in being able to give him this piece of their family history.

“I want to show Ghantmère,” Lo?c said, already pulling away.

Brandt hesitated, then nodded. “She’ll recognize it. She wore it for many years herself.”

As Lo?c raced to Ghantal, proudly displaying his new treasure, Idabel slipped her hand into Brandt’s. “It’s really beautiful. I don’t think he’s ever had anything so nice.”

“He earned it.” As Brandt watched his mother and son together, a complicated muddle of emotions seeped through the bond—sharp betrayal, but also deep gratitude. “She taught him well.”

It wasn’t reconciliation, but it was a start.

After the feast, when the guests had gone and Lo?c was tucked into bed, Idabel began clearing up the bones, tossing each one in a bucket to be burned.

“Leave it for the keepers,” Brandt said, pulling her toward the nesting chamber. “We have just enough time before dawn…”

She giggled and extracted her skirt from his grip so she could return to her work. “I told them not to come anymore. I don’t mind cleaning up.”

He frowned, dragging her back to him again. “You are not a maidservant. I don’t want you on your knees.”

A thread of wickedness wrapped around her heart and she slid her palm down his hard, flat belly until she reached the bulge in his breeches. “You don’t?”

“Greedy little rabbit,” he growled, tugging at her braid. He picked her up and set her on the table. “Stay.”

Her feet swung in the air. She watched in amazement as he picked up her bucket and began filling it with bones.

“You can get on your knees, but I can’t?” she teased as she watched him.

The look he gave her in return was quite solemn. “We will serve each other in different ways. I will take care of the ugly things and you the beautiful and sweet.”

“Why can’t I help you?” she asked, her eyes pricking with tears at his earnest expression. “I’m not some delicate flower. I’ve carried a lot of buckets.”

He washed up in the basin and then stood between her knees, grasping her hands in his.

He kissed the tips of her fingers one by one.

“These hands are for making things. Gardens and children and medicines. Mine are good for crushing windpipes. Which ones do you think should gather the bones, my love?”

Her tears brimmed over unbidden. “Your love?”

“You know I love you. Surely you can feel it.” He cupped her face in his hands, holding it there, waiting until she could soak in his emotions through the bond. His love was wrapped in something bitter, but it was sweet in the center and so tender it hurt.

“Your hands are more than weapons,” she whispered. “Look at them now. They are cradles, too. It’s my fault you weren’t here to hold our son in them when he was small enough to fit. Maybe that’s why you don’t know.”

He kissed her then, his tears falling on her cheeks and hers sliding between his fingers. When he pulled back, she was surprised to see him smiling. She raised a brow questioningly.

He smoothed a lock of her hair that had escaped its plait. “I was just thinking maybe we’ll have another. I wouldn’t mind putting a baby in you right now.”

She laughed, her spirits so light she might even be able to fly. “Who is the greedy one now?”

He scooped her from the tabletop and set her on the floor. Swatting her gently on the rear, he said, “I’ll meet you in the nesting chamber. I expect you to rid yourself of those garments while I rid us of these bones.”

She shook her head. “Let me go with you, at least. The keepers will be horrified to see you carrying the buckets. You’ll have to explain yourself a dozen times on the way to the burn pit.”

Grudgingly, he let her accompany him, though he still refused to let her haul the bones. It was their first time appearing together in the corridors of the Tower, and they drew the eyes of nearly every passerby.

“Traitor,” a gargoyle spat.

“What did you say?” Brandt snarled, stopping in his tracks to stare down the young guard.

“Ignore him.” Idabel caught Brandt’s wrist, urging him to keep walking. She was used to the word following her when she was alone, whispered or hissed or sometimes spoken boldly to her face like this. “They’re only words, and words don’t hurt unless you let them.”

He growled under his breath but followed her lead to the burn pit, where he poured the bucket out.

She kept her head high on the way back, ignoring the looks and comments until a young gargoyle in armor deliberately clipped her with his wing, jolting her into the wall.

He immediately disappeared into a knot of onlookers.

Brandt’s fury blazed through the bond as he whirled to face the group. “Who was that? Who touched my mate?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go home.” Afraid he might get into a skirmish with all five or six of them, Idabel grabbed his belt and tried to turn him around. But Brandt was planted firm, ready to face the culprit.

“He assaulted you. He broke the heartstone vow. He needs to be expelled from the Tower.”

“He may have lost his friend or brother in the Sixth Watch. He has every right to his anger,” she said soothingly.

“That doesn’t give him the right to touch you.”

“It was probably an accident,” she fibbed. “Come now. Lo?c might wake and find us missing.”

That, he could not argue with. But when they got home, he was still agitated, pacing the floor in circles around the nest instead of lying in it with her like he’d promised.

“There’s not much time until dawn,” she reminded him, patting the furs beside her. He sighed and joined her, wrapping his tail around her waist and anxiously fussing with her hair until she made him stop. It was like his mind couldn’t rest, so his body couldn’t either.

“What’s troubling you?” she finally asked, even though she had a good idea what it was.

“I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“Words don’t hurt. And a little bump in the passageway, I can handle.”

He enfolded her in his arms, tucking her under his chin. “I don’t want you to handle it. You’re mine to protect.”

“I don’t need protection from being called a traitor. They’re only telling the truth.”

She felt his mood darken even further. “Promise me. If anyone threatens you or Lo?c and I’m not with you, you’ll call me through the bond.”

“Brandt—”

“Promise me.”

His fear blared through their connection, a deep terror of losing her. She sighed. “I promise. If I’m in true danger, I’ll summon you.”

“Any danger.”

“True danger,” she insisted. “I won’t have you fighting the entire Tower because someone calls me a name that I deserve.”

His wings wrapped tight around them both, trapping her. “Your guilt is my guilt now. We share it.”

“That’s not how guilt works,” she protested.

“It’s how mate bonds work.” He pressed his face to her hair, breathing deep. “Everything shared. The good and the terrible.”

Idabel felt something ease in her chest.

They weren’t fixed. Might never be. But they were finding their way though the ruins of what she’d broken.