Page 27 of The Gargoyle’s Glade (The Gargoyle Knights #3)
Coltor
“ W hy is she here?” Ophelia complained, crossing her arms as another gargoyle, one that looked quite a lot like her, crossed the glade.
“Euphemia is the mistress of ceremonies,” Lovette said, clucking her tongue. “You know that as well as I do.”
Ophelia tsked and tried to turn away, but Lovette and Imogen flanked her. “It’s only for the ceremony,” Imogen said calmly.
My sisters were bolder than anyone else dared to be with our elder, and she tolerated it from them for some reason the rest of us weren’t aware of.
“Hello, Ophelia,” the woman greeted her from a safe distance.
“Yes, hello.”
“Be nice!” Lovette hissed under her breath. “Bury this thing festering between you once and for all, it’s not healthy to hang onto such ugliness.”
My father and I both tensed, worried that this might be the thing that sent the ancient into a rage. After a long moment, where it seemed nobody breathed—the demons on the fringes of our group included—Ophelia shook my sisters off and approached hers.
“Which version of the speech are you planning?” Ophelia asked.
“The modified of course. Nobody wants to sit through the original. Too stodgy and dated.” Euphemia curled her lip as though the thought disgusted her.
“Good.”
They stood there staring at one another, stone kin hundreds of years old looking very much like children too stubborn to apologize over breaking the other’s toy.
“Would you like to help me prepare?”
“If you like. I can perhaps give some valuable input.”
“Of course you can. You always could, Ophelia.”
Ophelia stared at her sister, mouth set in a tight line. “That’s not?—”
“I know what I said all those years ago, but that’s not what I meant. Not then, not now, not ever.”
Ophelia squinted, debating. Then she stepped forward, chin lifted. “Fine. I’ll help.”
Leaving the rest of us to finally breathe, the pair moved off toward the pools to continue their conversation.
“Mind the path,” I warned several of my kin walking through. Some carried big planks to be used for tables and benches, others toted metal rods for cooking spits and barrels of wine and ale.
To hold a ceremony was to celebrate, and to celebrate required copious amounts of food and drink. My kin were nothing if not consistent for their love of those things in equal measure. And when stone kin were motivated to celebrate, they could accomplish just about anything, very, very quickly.
Since Merry’s mind was too fragile for her to use the portal and all the animals were here anyway, my kin were bringing all the tools needed for celebrating from the conclave to the glade. It had barely been a day, and preparations were nearly complete.
The glade had been flooded with people coming and going once again.
Every available dwelling was open to be used for rest, food, planning.
My hut was the only exception, it was deemed too far from the activity, much to my relief.
The new cabins had been outfitted with furniture and staples by the aunts, simply out of necessity for them to be functional.
The matriarchs were spread through the kitchens, providing expert direction on just about everything.
I’d seen Grace and Jorna paired up at one point, both pointing agitated fingers and scowling as they barked orders to terrified men half their age and twice their size.
I was amused but also thankful I was not one of them.
“I need a drink,” my father breathed, right before stalking off toward Rylan and Vassago, who were watching with the same tense interest as the rest of us. Well, except for my sisters; they were smiling as though thoroughly pleased.
“Is Merry prepared?” Lovette asked.
“She says she is.”
“You don’t agree?” Imogen asked, fingers tapping along the leather of her vest.
“I think she needs more time to heal. All of this has happened very quickly, and she’s barely on her feet again.”
“It will be more peaceful once the ceremony is done.” Lovette patted my shoulder as she walked past me. “We’ll go check on her.”
“I have a gift for her anyhow,” Imogen said with a grin.
I turned a stern look on my sister, knowing full well she had a blade hidden somewhere on her person for Merry. “What kind?”
She chuffed. “The perfect for her kind.”
“Big or small, Imo? I’m already on my last frayed nerve here.”
My sisters laughed at me outright. “We know,” Lovette said. “You were already experiencing some terrible symptoms when we saw you last.”
“Symptoms?” I balked.
“It was written all over you,” Imo confirmed with a nod. “The irrational agitation, the grumpiness.”
“The chest rubbing, the denial.” Lovette flourished a hand. “Very obvious you were falling for her. Emotions and mate bonds are tricky like that sometimes. Trust me, I know.”
I scowled at them both. “I’m not grumpy.”
They glanced at one another and fell into raucous laughter.
Imogen basically keeping Lovette from falling to the ground at one point.
“If you say so, little brother.” Imogen produced a small blade similar to Hailon’s herb knife from a sheath on her belt.
It would be put to good use in Merry’s hands while she gardened, as well as for protection.
It was a perfect little belt knife. I swore, promising to do my best not to worry over it.
“You work fast.” I turned it over in my hands, her impeccable craftsmanship impressive as always. Where the leather-wrapped handle met the blade at the bolster was a piece of red jasper.
“I had the steel mostly done already, just waiting for the right purpose. Rylan agreed to give me the stone when he was done with his examination of her bracelet.” Her gentle smile expressed how proud she was of her work.
“What happened to the rest of it?” I asked, knowing Merry had been very attached to the jewelry, but it had been beyond repairing to its original state.
“Brom needed more time, but he’s incorporating what he can into a sheath for her.”
“That’s very kind of him. Is he here?”
My older sister blushed as she took the blade back from me. “No, he’s at the outpost finishing commissions for the armory.”
I needed to make time to visit with the leathersmith, it would seem. I’d like to get to know the man who’d managed to capture Imo’s affection.
“One would think such a celebration would allow a day off, but no.” Lovette frowned. At least my sisters had one another to complain about the demands of the outpost with. “Come on.” Lovette tugged on Imogen’s sleeve, and they went off toward Merry’s cabin.
I took a deep breath and waded into the fray, joining my father and the demons under Grace’s watchful eye and stern direction.
“She’s fine,” Lovette patted my hand as Merry was escorted up onto the little platform and seated between Ophelia and Jorna. “She insisted she was ready, we checked with her several times. She’s smiling even.”
“She smiled through terrible headaches for who knows how long,” I countered, still upset with myself for not noticing what she was going through sooner.
“Fine, but she’s literally sitting with Ophelia.
And her horse is just there.” Lovette pointed off to the side of the platform, where Jacks stood, bedecked in a floral garland woven from all the wildflowers that grew in the glade, looking very regal.
Both Belmont and Archimedes were perched in a small tree on the other side, and Morticia was lounging near Jacks’s hooves.
“And all the creatures are orderly and behaving themselves.”
It was my father who spoke up next. “Rylan gave her a spelled trinket to hold if she feels overwhelmed—it will filter some of the voices out, protect her mind.” That brought some relief.
“Her new blade has the jasper in it too,” Imogen added.
“We’re all here, watching.” I turned at Hailon’s voice, and found that all the demons, including Tap, had arrived and were settling in near us, as were their equally powerful wives.
“Nothing is going to happen to her. And if she seems at all distressed, we’ll stop everything.
Take her away from the ceremony.” She squeezed my arm, and the flurry of bees in my chest quieted.
“Nobody wants to see her hurt, Coltor,” Greta added, sadness still etched into her face. I hated that she blamed herself for not checking in with the familiars.
“Who’s minding the doorways?” I asked Seir, while looking at Tap.
The crossroads demon fidgeted, looking as uncomfortable away from his station as I often felt. And that wasn’t even considering he was one of four demons in a very large gathering of stone kin. We’d become quite cordial for beings that were once sworn enemies.
“I called in a favor with my unit leader—they’re doing what they can from Hell. The rest will wait a few hours.” He glanced at his brother and whispered, “He needs to blow off some steam.”
“It’s a miracle you got him to leave,” Vassago teased.
Tap’s nose wrinkled. “I attended Rylan’s wedding not all that long ago. Left me with a mighty mess, but I did it.”
“I’ll help you with any resulting problems,” Seir reassured him.
Tap nodded and settled between Seir and Rylan. “You absolutely will.”
Several stone kin had turned to look at the gathering of demons. They were not strangers to the conclave, and were officially kin, but for many of our kind, we were still getting used to being among them as friends.
The sun was setting, tossing the glade into glorious shades of orange and red, bathing Merry in the light that suited her beauty the best. Euphemia commanded everyone’s attention from atop a wide tree stump that had been placed for later use as a table.