Page 20 of The Gargoyle’s Glade (The Gargoyle Knights #3)

“If you insist. But stay inside. Please. I’ll be back very soon. I’m going to get a few things from my hut.” Her eyebrows knitted, but she agreed with the slightest inclination of her head.

That was agreement enough for me. I drove my wings hard toward the ground the second I was on the outside of her door so no time would be wasted. I had several stone kin remedies stashed away in a cabinet, plus some old recipes that the aunts and my mother had sworn by for situations like this.

Hopefully that would be enough for now.

“What’s all that?” Merry asked still on the sofa as I set several bottles, some food and a couple of books on her table a short time later.

“I thought we might try a few things that work for stone kin, if that’s okay.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “Alright.”

I oriented myself in her kitchen, starting a pot of water on the stove.

I sliced up some oranges and added a couple of cinnamon sticks.

Once it was heated and started to perfume the air, I put it on a very low flame.

Outside, I used the water pump to fill one of her clean, shallow buckets with cold water.

Things long since forgotten from watching my father help my mother when she got her blinding headaches started coming back. I wondered what else I’d forgotten about her, how similar our gifts might be.

“This is going to seem a little strange, but will you trust me?” I asked her. She eyed the bucket, which I set down on the floor near her feet on a towel.

“I don’t see the harm. For my feet?” I nodded. She tilted her head to the side but sank her delicate little feet in to above the ankles. “Freezing,” she said through clenched teeth. “What does this do?”

“Helps,” I answered, because honestly, I wasn’t sure exactly, but it was a technique that stone kin used often for sore heads. “Can I touch your neck and shoulders?”

“Yes.”

I adjusted the direction she was sitting a bit and settled on my knees behind the sofa.

She pulled her long hair over one shoulder, twisting it so it was out of the way.

After taking a deep breath to settle the flutter in my chest, I reached out and pressed my thumbs into the tense muscles on either side of her spine.

I massaged along the column of her neck, then down into the bunched knots along her shoulders.

She made small noises of distress when I hit the most tender places but began to relax after a few minutes, her smooth skin pliable under my heavy hands.

“Any better?” I asked, and her head bobbed lightly.

“Yes, thank you. Can I take my feet out of the water now? My toes are starting to wrinkle.”

“Here.” I went back around in front of her and knelt again as I moved the bucket off to the side and used the towel to dry her feet off. Then I turned her so she was lying on the sofa, well supported by pillows, and covered her with the blanket she kept there.

Her eyes were wide, the pupils large, and her cheeks pink as she looked at me like she’d never seen me before. There was surprise there but also trust. My chest burned, heart thumping so hard under my ribs I was breathless.

“Try to rest.”

“I don’t like this,” she said, my heart kicking into double-time when I saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go. I just thought?—”

“Not you, Coltor. This is actually really nice. I’m usually the one doing the caretaking, so this is new for me, but I don’t mind. You’re being very kind.”

“The simmer pot then? Some people don’t take to cinnamon.”

She barked a short laugh, then reached out to catch my hand as I turned to go into the kitchen. “Will you sit for a moment?”

I could hardly breathe, and my chest felt like it was caught in a vice. “Of course.” I settled myself carefully onto the low table in front of the sofa.

She held my hand in both of hers, examining it closely.

I suppressed a shiver as she traced along the lines in my palm with her fingertip, then measured the size of her hand against mine, silent the whole while.

I tried to focus on her bracelet instead of the furious rush of blood pounding through my body.

It was braided hair of some kind, with a reddish stone woven in.

It was clearly well loved, worn and fraying a bit near the clasp.

It looked like her habit of turning around her wrist had irritated her skin.

Abruptly, she met my eye and stopped her gentle touch.

Without thinking, I drew her hand to my face and kissed her palm.

“Oh.” The word came out on a soft breath, but she didn’t pull away.

I guided her hand to my cheek and closed my eyes for a moment.

Her skin was warm and soft, and she smelled downright edible.

If I focused, I could hear her pulse throbbing, smell the slightest tang of iron on her skin.

I brushed my mouth along her wrist as I gave her arm back.

I wanted nothing more than for her to continue exploring me at her leisure, but she tucked her arms under the blanket. I shifted around, not wanting her to see the effect her simple touch had had on me.

“I don’t like feeling helpless,” she said after a heavy pause, reminding me of what she’d said earlier. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Jacks. My mother, even, and my siblings. I’ve done it all, for a long time.”

“You’re very strong, Merry.”

“I am,” she agreed with a nod. “What is it about this place that makes me feel both like I’m finally where I should be and completely out of my depth all at the same time, then?

I have everything I could ever want. A house to myself, a job I enjoy that also pays well.

Friends. But I can’t figure out what those animals want from me.

Why I feel this…” Her hands fluttered under the blanket, but she never located a word for whatever she was trying to describe.

She sniffled while looking me in the eyes, and I nearly lost it.

“I also really hate crying.” She pressed her hands to her face, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use.

Everything in my body screamed, wanting to comfort her as they dampened her cheeks. Instead, I sat there like an idiot, panicking. Finally, I reached out awkwardly. Resting my hand over hers somehow ended up with our fingers twined together.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked. My pulse throbbed in my throat, the stress of being open with someone, especially her, sent my heart pounding. But I thought we both needed this. She turned her head to face me and nodded, scrubbing her tears away. “I feel like that too, most of the time.”

“You do?”

“Of course. This is my place. It’s become my home even though it was only ever meant to be a temporary post. It’s very confusing, how I feel about the glade.

I wanted nothing more than time away until Seir arrived, but, if given a choice I would remain here always.

I do my patrol, maintain the doorways, reinforce the wards.

” I shrugged. “It’s a routine I enjoy, though it can get a bit monotonous when things go right and everyone stays away like they should.

The magic here… it’s old, alive. Centuries have come and gone, nearly all that time without it being managed so carefully.

I often wonder if I’m making any difference at all or if I’m just fooling myself that I’m being useful.

” She gave a weak smile. “And for the record, I also hate when you cry.”

She stared at me in such a way, for so long, I was certain my whole face was red.

Then she laughed, free and easy like a weight had been lifted from her.

The sound tripped down my spine and sent a sparkling sensation through my veins.

“Thank you, Coltor.” Even the way she said my name was a novel treat, like the taste of it in her mouth was something special.

“You’re welcome, Merry.” I pulled on every ounce of bravery I had and kissed her forehead. The soft tilt of a smile, the sigh she exhaled, all the tiny ways she accepted the affection put lightning in my veins.

Her eyes finally drifted closed, the elixir perhaps beginning to work along with the remedies I’d performed.

After watching the slow rise and fall of her breaths for an embarrassing amount of time, I snuck my hand out of her grasp and went outside as quietly as I could.

The animals perked their heads at me but made no other effort to move.

I was not gifted with mind speech and heard nothing but the sounds of them chattering to themselves and moving around in the grass.

“You’re making her unwell. She can’t help you if she’s sick. Find someone else to speak with. Move along. Understood?”

There was a shuffle but no exodus.

Frustrated but determined to be useful, I went back inside and started preparing her a soup that always made me feel better.