Page 2

Chapter 2

An Unexpected Gift

Evrard

A s soon as he lit the lantern above the village gate, the moths were there, flapping nonsense in his ear.

He batted them away, but they kept circling back, gossiping about him so loudly that he couldn’t help but hear.

“When will he report to his watch? Everyone is there but him,” one whined.

“I heard they’re already trying to replace him.”

“They’re going to leave without him,” the other chimed in.

“The goblin horde is on the move. I heard they’ve devoured five southern settlements so far. They’re as far as Meravenna now.”

He doubted that.

Moths would repeat anything, false or otherwise, and as long as he’d lived, he hadn’t heard of goblins in Meravenna.

They typically stuck to raiding farms on the borderlands and didn’t venture near the fortified city where the gargoyles patrolled.

But there had to be some truth to the growing goblin threat, or the Zenith wouldn’t be calling the lowliest guards from the villages to serve in a new watch.

Lowly guards like him.

“I’ll get there when I get there,” he crabbed at them, not feeling very accountable to insects.

After they bumbled off to spread their stories, he settled on his heels on the gate pillar.

He guarded the village as he had for the past ten years, his senses attuned to potential danger and dulled to the activity of the dirt-dwelling humans who passed beneath the gate’s graceful arch.

Like all gargoyles, he was bound by the heartstone vow to protect humankind from outside threats, whether from goblins or dragons or fae.

But he didn’t concern himself with Brinehelm’s individual residents and the squabbles between them.

They were soft and squeaky and short-lived, and he had little interest in them.

In his youth, he’d volunteered for the guard because it had offered a chance, however small, to rise from his upbringing in the cliffs and earn an eyrie in one of the cities.

Thus far, that had not proved out.

Over the past several decades, he’d guarded a half-dozen villages and still had no eyrie to show for it.

It was dull, unrewarding work in a region where goblin sightings were few and far between.

But being called for a watch meant he’d finally gained the Zenith’s notice for his faithful service.

He was finally being considered .

He finally had a chance to do more than sit on a gatepost. Even the opportunity to die for a cause was a welcome novelty at this point.

He was due in Solvantis.

He should be eager to leave this pitiful human settlement behind and fulfill a higher calling.

So why was he lingering?

The reason for his reluctance appeared out of the fog.

Maggie. The only human who’d ever held his interest.

She reminded him of agate, his favorite stone.

Washed up from the sea, it glowed among the other pebbles, and she was the same.

Her red-gold hair flashed in the moonlight, demanding his attention.

As always, she pushed a wooden handcart with a lantern hanging off the side, her head down so he couldn’t see her face.

Soon, she would glance up at him, her plump lips curving as she passed through the gate.

A red-gold eyebrow would raise.

“Hungry?” she’d ask as she always did, seconds before she flung a spare herring or cockle his way.

Evrard’s mouth watered in anticipation, both of the delectable seafood and the delectable sight of her merry green eyes.

He should not harbor these feelings toward her.

He was so old, his hair had been eaten away by the moss and lichen that grew shamelessly over his head and shoulders.

Maggie was ripe and vibrant and human besides.

It was perverse of him to entertain any kind of interest in her.

Certainly, she did not return it.

That’s why he would leave tonight for the city.

Right after she…

She passed beneath the gate’s arch without an upward glance, her steps quickening as if she were trying to avoid him.

His usual stoicism failed him, his wide mouth drawing down at the corners.

Had she heard he was leaving?

Was she angry with him?

His heart gave a heavy thud as he imagined stirring such emotion in her.

His wings flexed, his whole body longing to fly to her.

To ask. To say goodbye, at the least.

Just as he was about to push off from his perch, three men passed through the gate, squeaking after her.

Ah. That’s why she was hurrying, to escape their attentions.

She hadn’t given him a thought.

Tendons strained and claws scraped the stone as he held himself to the gate, feeling stupid.

His fantasy had gotten away from him.

Maggie didn’t see his face in the moon.

She fed him scraps like she would a dog.

He settled back on his haunches, tail flicking, to watch their backs recede, doing his best to block out their shrill voices.

Worse than moths, humans were.

Ungrateful earthcrawlers who never gave a thought to the gargoyle above the gate.

Never considered that he’d sacrificed most of his life, given up any hope of having a mate or nestlings of his own in order to guard theirs.

He should leave now.

Stretch out his wings and soar without a downward glance.

So why wasn’t he already airborne?

Maggie. Little, glowing gem.

He still hadn’t said goodbye.

“Give him back!” Her shout rent the night, and he pushed off from the pillar without thinking.

Two beats of his broad wings and he found her, brandishing a stubby little knife at the laughing, leering men who were passing something between them to keep it out of her grasp.

Her eyes glittered as she lunged for it, failing when one of them held it above her head.

“You won’t be laughing when my knife is in your guts, Kaspar.”

“Show us your tits and you can have it,” he taunted.

“Come on, don’t be shy! You have enough to share.”

Never mind that Evrard was forbidden to meddle in human affairs.

Never mind that his feet hadn’t touched the dirt in decades.

He wheeled sharply and landed between her and them with a thud.

The man holding the coveted item dropped it and pissed himself.

Evrard curled his lip in disgust.

“ Run ,” he growled, and the three men scrambled away as fast as their weak limbs could carry them, likely headed toward Brinehelm to spread gossip like moths.

He’d worry that stories about a rampaging gargoyle would cost him his post if he weren’t already assigned elsewhere.

Satisfied they weren’t coming back, he turned to Maggie, who’d sheathed her small weapon at her hip and scooped up what the pissing man had dropped.

Some small animal, it turned out.

She fussed over it, examining its limbs for injury, planting kisses on its head when she determined it was well and whole.

Maggie was even prettier up close, where he could note the reddish-brown spots scattered over her delicate human skin.

It was so thin, he could see the blood running under it.

How did she survive ?

“Hurt?” he rumbled.

She shook her head and stroked the small, furry creature.

It let out a pitiful squall.

“I’m fine, thank you. They’re all bark and no bite.”

“ I’m not,” Evrard said grimly, dog that he was.

He struggled to piece together a human sentence.

“If men return—” He broke off, stopping himself, because really, what would he do?

He was leaving. And he wasn’t supposed to intervene in their affairs.

“Thank you,” she said again, adding, “Hungry?”

He eyed the four-legged creature she carried.

It didn’t have much meat under its fluff.

Skeptical it’d prove a good meal, he leaned forward to sniff it.

Maggie jerked back with a huff.

“Not him! He’s not food. He’s just a baby.” She cupped her hands around it protectively, as though she’d birthed it herself.

Had she? Alarmed and a little jealous, Evrard pulled away, eying the soft swell of her belly beneath the gathers of her skirt before he remembered that human infants were hairless.

She laughed when she noticed the direction of his gaze.

“Not my baby. He’s my pet, so please don’t eat him. I put a few mussels aside for you if you want them, though. I know they’re your favorite.” She tilted her head toward the handcart.

Evrard warmed all over.

She’d thought of him.

Saved him a portion that she could have sold.

His mouth watered as he nosed the casks until he located the mussels.

He tossed them up, snapped them out of the air, and crunched them down, shells and all.

Delicious. As delicious as being so near to Maggie, near enough to bask in the heat radiating from her.

She watched him swallow, an amused look on her face.

“I’ll bring you more tomorrow.”

He grunted in pleasure.

It wasn’t until she’d hoisted the handles of her cart and begun to trundle it away that he came back to his senses and realized he’d left the gate unguarded for far too long, long enough that his heavy heels had sunk into the sandy soil.

He pushed off and flew to resume his post, stone heart thumping harder than necessary.

She wasn’t offering leftovers tomorrow.

She was bringing him a gift.

He could stay at his post one more night for that, moths be damned.