Page 48 of The Gargoyle and the Maiden (Nightfall Guardians #1)

Betje snorted. “Who said anything about pushing you out? You’re the one who’s—” She broke off, shaking her head.

“I just thought we could use more help. Frida’s a lovely girl and she’s had a hard time finding anyone to take her.

They’re still a bunch of old goats like they were back when you were looking to apprentice. ”

Idabel narrowed her eyes. She had a sneaking suspicion that Betje had thought better of finishing her sentence and changed the course of the conversation. “I’m the one who’s what ?”

“Nothing,” Betje said too quickly. “I’d better go show Frida how to record sales. I hear her chatting with Lady Lockwood about the new hair powder I made yesterday, and you know how she is about hair powder. She has to have every scent. That’s why I make so many of them!”

“Betonyne Bullens, did you See something about me?”

“No?”

Idabel groaned. “Now you have to tell me!”

“It’s nothing you don’t know,” Betje sniffed.

“You have new priorities, that’s all. Deserved ones.

This shop is my husband and my child all in one, but you have one of each in addition to this place.

So of course, I must prepare for a future in which you may not be able to assist me as much as you do now.

” She gave Idabel’s midsection a pointed look.

Idabel’s face flushed at the implication. “I assisted you plenty when I carried Lo?c. There must be something else you’re not telling me.”

“Hm. Nothing I can remember. All will be well. That’s all I can tell you.” Betje shrugged and sailed out of work room.

She was definitely lying. But whatever she’d Seen, she wasn’t willing to share, so it couldn’t have been that bad.

Idabel finished the rest of the morning’s orders, plus a fresh batch of tonic, and decided to go home early. Betje would survive without her for an afternoon. The amazing Frida was here, after all.

“I’ll take the deliveries on the way home,” she called, tucking them into a basket.

She dropped off the packages with their grateful recipients, left a fresh batch of tonic at the Nadir’s office for Rikard, and made her way home, where she curled up in the nest under Brandt’s watchful stone eyes and took a much-needed nap.

The transformation from stone to flesh always made Idabel’s breath catch. Brandt’s eyes found hers immediately as life flooded back into his features, his stony face softening with awareness.

“You actually rested.” His approval warmed through their bond. “Good. You’ve escaped punishment tonight.”

“What if I want it anyway?” She tried for innocence, though heat crept up her neck.

He stretched his wings one at a time, shaking off the dust. “I think you’ll be happy with my rewards instead.”

The promise in his voice made her pulse quicken. She’d already started mentally planning their evening: Lo?c would practice what he’d learned in his lessons, they’d share dinner together like the family they were becoming, then after their son slept...

“I need to dress formally.” Brandt strode to his armor chest and opened it, surveying the contents. “Late last night, the Zenith requested my presence at tonight’s Council meeting.”

The warmth in her chest cooled. “What does the Council want with you?”

“They’re holding a Lament for the Sixth Watch.” He pulled out his engraved spaulders and the matching chest plate and bracers.

“Oh.” She watched him dress in his finest armor, each intricately worked piece transforming him from her mate into a shining commander that she barely recognized. “Should I come with you? Do you need me there?”

“No.” His tone was definitive. “Mother will accompany me. She knows the mourning protocols, the politics. I can manage without—” He caught himself and pinched off the connection of their bond, but she knew what he was leaving out. Without you. Without the traitor whose blood doomed them all.

“Of course. I’ll need to pick up Lo?c, anyway, if Ghantal is going with you.” She kept her voice light, though something viciously sharp lodged beneath her ribs. “You’ll do fine on your own. You’ve come so far.”

And he could manage on his own, especially now that some justice had soothed his rage.

Two moons ago, he couldn’t have gone anywhere without her presence to ground him.

Now he stood tall, scarred but steadier, ready to face the Tower elite alone.

She was proud of him even though it stung a little to be left out.

“It’s just a few hours.” He crossed to her, cupping her face. “I’ll return before midnight.”

He let down his mind wall, and through the bond came his genuine regret mixed with something else. Relief? That she wouldn’t be hurt by cutting words and cold shoulders.

He was right. Her presence would complicate things. It would always be this way in the Tower.

Ghantal arrived soon after, wearing a backless gown in the color of moonlight to mark the formal occasion. Idabel, in her stained skirts and worn chemise, couldn’t help feeling shabby standing next to her. Ghantal gave her a sympathetic smile, seeming to sense her mood.

“We should go,” she murmured to Brandt. “The moths tell me they have already begun the procession. Will you be all right alone?” This question was to Idabel.

“Of course.” Idabel managed a smile as she followed them out to the balcony. “Please take my condolences.”

After they left, she leaned back against the balcony railing, watching their forms disappear into the Tower’s upper reaches. She should be happy he didn’t need her. She was happy. That’s what she told herself.

Later that evening, she collected Lo?c from flying lessons. He’d tried a barrel roll for the first time and chattered excitedly about it the whole way home.

“I can’t wait to show Papa. André says if I can do it again, I can move to the class with gargoyles my own age! Can Papa pick me up next time? That way I can fly home with him like everyone else instead of climbing the ladders.”

His casual request stung. Everything seemed to hurt today, and she wasn’t sure why. None of it was personal. Brandt’s mind was healing. Betje’s business was expanding. Lo?c was growing up. It was natural that they wouldn’t always rely on her. Still, it made her feel a little useless.

Brandt touched her through the bond from the Lament, questioning. I’m fine , she pushed back.

“Did you pick a name for the new moth yet?” she asked Lo?c as they started up the final ladder to the fifth tier.

He nodded as he climbed ahead of her. “I was thinking about Aurélie. It’s not exactly a moth name, but the prettiest female in my flying class is named Aurélie, and she said it means ‘gold,’ which is one of the colors of a sunset.

A moth probably likes sunset since it’s when they come out. What do you think, Mama?”

Her love for her sweet, clever boy swept away all her negative thoughts. “I think that’s a wonderful choice.”

She gave him a big hug once they’d both dismounted the ladder on the fifth tier. Lo?c grabbed her keys and ran ahead to unlock the door. Idabel was watching him indulgently when a shadow detached from the wall.

Light wings and pale hair.

Tomin. Stripped of his rank but not his menace, he blocked her path, standing between her and Lo?c.

“Look at what the winds blew my way,” he sneered, stalking toward her. “Too bad your mate is too busy mourning his failures to protect you tonight.”

“Is this the bad gargoyle?” Lo?c whimpered.

“Run, sweetheart. Go straight inside and lock the door behind you.” She made a shooing motion, heart hammering. To Tomin, she added defiantly, “You’re not supposed to be here in the Tower. Let me pass.”

“You ruined everything.” He moved closer, backing her into the wall, and she could smell mead on his breath. “Whispering in Brandt’s ear, taming whatever beast is inside him. The council was ready to throw him in a gaol until you stepped in.”

“You ruined it yourself with your choices.”

His hand shot out, gripping her throat. “I knew about you, did you know that? We all did. Brandt’s little human.

I watched you for a while in case you were in contact with him.

Thought about taking you for myself to hedge my bets.

One bite, a mate bond, and who would protest?

You were the commander’s discarded pet, desperate for any gargoyle’s attention. ”

“Mama!” Lo?c’s voice cracked with fear.

“Inside, sprout. Now.” She was gratified when she heard the door open and close. She didn’t want him to see what happened next.

“Such a protective mother.” Tomin’s grip tightened. “Shame you can’t protect him from what he is. The abomination you created him to be. He’ll always be an outcast. Maybe I should put him out of his misery when I’m done with you.”

She didn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction, but through the bond, she screamed for Brandt. The response was instantaneous—rage so pure it made her gasp.

And then he was there.

It seemed like no time passed. Brandt moved faster than she thought possible. He must have dropped straight down the center of the Tower.

Tomin released her in shock, and she fell to the floor. The first blow from Brandt sent him flying. The second shattered his wing. By the third, blood painted the stone walls.

“Stop!” Idabel tried to reach Brandt through the bond, but his fury was absolute, his mind impenetrable. “Please, don’t do this!”

He couldn’t hear her. Couldn’t or wouldn’t stop.

She rushed into the eyrie and slammed the door.

Lo?c stood frozen in terror just inside.

She scooped him up and carried him all the way into his nest, where she wrapped him in her arms, covering his small, pointed ears with her palms. “Don’t listen, baby.

Don’t listen. Everything’s going to be all right. ”

It wasn’t. How could it be? Brandt was going to kill Tomin if he wasn’t already dead. They’d have his wings for this. There was no way to hide it, either. The passageway glittered with moths at every lantern. Word would spread within an hour. By dawn, the whole Tower would know.

When Brandt finally came inside, she took one look at him and told Lo?c to stay in his room. He was completely drenched in blood. Tomin’s, she hoped, though some was his own. He fell to his knees before her, and through the bond came devastation deeper than any of his physical wounds.

“I killed him.” His voice was hollow and resigned. “A watchmate. I murdered a watchmate.”

“He threatened us. He was going to hurt Lo?c, too. You did what you had to do.”

“It doesn’t matter. The punishment for killing another gargoyle is death.” He looked up at her with dull eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for ruining what we’ve built. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t control it. I failed you.”

“Don’t speak like that,” she begged him, tears carving tracks in her cheeks.

“I’m broken, Idabel. Irreparably broken.” His wings drooped, trailing blood. “I’ve slaughtered younglings. I’ve murdered my watchmate. Even you can’t heal this. Even you can’t love this kind of monster.”

“Of course I love you.” She knelt beside him, not caring about the blood soaking her skirts. “You are not what you have done.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true. So many of our actions have been forced by circumstance . By secrets kept from us. You are not what you have done .”

The words echoed in the bond between them. He caught her hands, his bloody and hers clean, and squeezed gently. “Do you hear yourself?”

“What?”

“You are not what you’ve done.” He repeated her words back to her, and through the bond she felt the desperate intensity of his love for her. “You need to forgive yourself too. Love yourself as much as you love me. Don’t forget it, even when I’m gone.”

The truth of it hit like a physical force. All this time, she’d accepted her guilt as immutable fact while fighting to free him from his. But if he was more than his worst acts, so was she.

“We’re quite a pair,” she said with a sob that was half laughter.

“Two ruins. I am yours as much as you are mine.” He pulled her against him, and she felt his steady heartbeat against her careening one. “Whatever happens next, know that you saved me. I would still be lost in my mind without you.”

She shook her head, her throat working as she found the right words. “You saved yourself. You found your way out of the labyrinth on your own. I just held a light.”

Footsteps sounded in the passageway outside the door.

Guards, certainly. Their time together was running out.

But she felt no panic at being separated again.

Their bond would endure, no matter what happened next.

Their love would be what defined them. Not their crimes. Not their failures. Not their scars.

“Papa?” Lo?c’s voice came from his room, small and frightened. “Is the bad gargoyle coming?”

“No. The bad gargoyle is gone.” Brandt held out his arms, and Lo?c ran to him, heedless of the blood. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“How do you know?” Lo?c sniffled into his chest.

“Because we have each other.” He looked at Idabel over their son’s head and wrapped his wings around all three of them. They’d survived war, betrayal, and each other. They could survive this, too. “We’ll always have our family.”

The knob turned and the door opened.