Page 7 of The Gargoyle’s Glade (The Gargoyle Knights #3)
Coltor
I found myself standing in front of the little cabin instead of my own hut.
I’d been lost in my thoughts as I followed the path from the portal through the glade, but I hadn’t been that distracted.
All the young stone kin working on the other new dwellings had already left for the day, half a hut and a partial cabin completed for their day’s labor.
I was glad to see they’d heeded my warnings to stick to the paths, sparing the grass and other foliage, but the evidence of their presence still left me feeling oddly intruded upon.
The ruins had been mine and only mine so long, having that many people in and out was beyond comprehension.
Frowning, I decided to do a thorough inspection of the area during my nightly patrol.
I stared at the cabin, feet planted as though stuck in the mud. I had no reason to be here, yet here I stood.
It was still bright enough out none of the lamps were lit in the windows, and it was too warm yet to need a fire, so there was no smoke coming from the chimney.
Signs of life were few, and she very well could have gone with Seir and Hailon to their place, but I got the distinct feeling Merry was inside.
After several long moments of internal debate, I decided not to knock on the door —I had nothing to say to her, after all.
I did, however, do a quick sweep around the property to be sure everything was in order.
It would not do at all for a new guest’s security to be left up in the air.
The windows were all open, which made me curious what life had been like in Ravenglen.
I wrestled with a flash of anger, reminding myself that there was nowhere safer than here to do such a thing, after all.
This was not a city where someone with ill-intent would accept such a thing as an invitation.
And as far as I could tell, nothing seemed out of place or suspicious.
Besides that, I could trust my kin. I shook my head, frustrated with my tangled thoughts as I headed back toward the path that would lead to my hut.
But I stopped cold at the sound of her scream.
The sound cut jaggedly through me, and before I had time to breathe through the rush of emotions it evoked, it came again but louder, full of terror.
Pulse pounding, I spun, limbs pumping. It seemed I’d barely taken a step at all and was already rushing up the few porch steps and through the front door.
The main rooms were dark, which was momentarily disorienting.
The shrieking noise came again, then a bang, both from behind the closed bathroom door.
My throat was locked up tight with a cocktail of fear and the instinct to destroy whatever had Merry making that sound. Blade drawn and blood up, ready for battle, I threw open the door.
After stepping through the frame, I froze, utterly unprepared for what I found inside the room.
Merry was barely on the outside of the draining tub, dripping wet and clutching a towel to the front of her body. One slight movement, and every last one of her curves would be on full display. I struggled desperately to tear my focus from her glistening skin as I evaluated the situation.
There was a mix of water and tea splashed on the floor, a teacup broken near her feet and an upended pot slowly leaking its contents out into a puddle.
Merry defensively held out one of her arms toward a very angry, very wet squirrel perched on its hind legs on the rim of the tub.
It chattered and squeaked, cheeks full and tiny chest heaving.
They’d both startled at my sudden entrance, but neither moved.
Her eyes darted to me and she tried to adjust the towel to cover more of her body without lowering her arm. “Saints and devils, what are you doing here? Do you just walk in anywhere you please?”
“Of course not! You screamed. I came to help. Your door wasn’t locked.”
She huffed. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine.
This little thief scared me is all. He decided to invite himself into my bathroom without permission.
” She raked her eyes over me. “Seems the pair of you have that in common.” The squirrel’s gaze darted between us, finally settling on Merry.
“He was helping himself to my snack. Startled me when I reached for my towel. We’re still having some difficulties figuring out who’s going to leave and how.
When I move, he moves, and usually in a way that seems like he might jump on me.
Again.” She scowled at the little rodent, eyes drifting to some scratches on her arm.
“Stay still. There’s a broken cup—” I shifted my weight forward and the little creature scampered across the rim of the bath.
Clearly panicked, it seemed to be weighing which of us might be the bigger threat.
After giving a squeak, he leapt for the window, claws rasping against the wood as he scrambled onto the sill and out the open pane.
Relief flooded her features. “Thank the saints, he’s gone. If you don’t mind?” Her glare at me was vicious, the towel now wrapped snugly around her frame, one hand holding it together above her breasts. “Coltor, you should leave. Turn around at least.”
“Your feet are bare, you can’t?—”
“I’m fine, I’ll just go around—” the length of her thigh was exposed as she attempted to take a step, but found more porcelain shards where she tried to plant her foot.
I rubbed my fist against my thigh, teeth gritted firmly together. Frustration boiled within me, my chest hot and achy, everything in my soul screaming that I need to fly, to fight … to fuck. For obvious reasons, none of that was possible at the moment.
On fire from the inside out, I stepped forward, avoiding as much of the mess and glass as possible and grabbed her up against me.
“Coltor! Put me down!”
“It’s dangerous.”
Her complaints were many and loud, but I stopped listening, focused only on getting her away from the danger.
I carried her to her bedroom, sat her on the mattress and left the room, closing the door behind myself.
While she muttered and opened and closed cabinets, I practiced taking a few full, deep breaths and went in search of a broom to clean up the mess in the bathroom.
She emerged dressed in a fresh tunic and leggings just as I was depositing the last of the glass into the little trash bucket in the kitchen. Her hair dripped wet ribbons down the linen.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Her tone was still sharp, but lacked bite. She sagged. “But thank you.”
“Are you injured?”
“No. Embarrassed, maybe.” Her head tilted. “How did you even hear me?”
Her screams echoed in my ears, and the volatile mix of fear and frustration that had finally settled perked up again. “Your windows are open.”
Her mouth tilted upward. “They were that way when I got here. Besides, is there a danger out here in the middle of nowhere I should be wary of? Someone who might come into my cabin without warning? Besides you, I mean.”
“Besides me ?” I choked on the word.
“You’re the one who decided to just come in here.” She frowned, the lighthearted tone she’d taken turning hot again.
“You screamed .”
“I had it handled.” Her bluster infuriated me, but I could see the thread of unease underneath it.
“You should close your windows and lock your doors, Merry.”
“I’ll take it under consideration, Coltor.”
Then, unable to stop going too far, I said, “I was promised I’d hardly know you were here. This is the opposite of that.” I regretted the words even as I said them.
Her gaze shuttered, her tone going cold. “I’m sorry about that, but in fairness I had no idea you’d be lingering nearby while I was being surprised by a squirrel. I do truly appreciate you helping, but I think it would be best if you left now. Please.”
I obeyed, resigned to ignore the fire raging in my veins that Merry had incited, the irritation at myself for lashing out, for making her feel bad.
As I stomped down the path toward my hut, I scrubbed at my chest, the aggressively powerful beat of my heart strangling my throat through a few breaths.
I lingered a moment, making sure there was nobody in the glade but us before I finally moved along, cursing myself the whole way.
She had no business invading so many of my thoughts, and going into that cabin now that she was in it was none of mine either.
We could keep our separate schedules, go about our own business, and never see one another if we planned it right.
But what was I to do if she was in danger again? Or about my vision of her dying?
Not meaning to, I slammed the door behind myself, making the windows and even the plates in the cabinet rattle.
Hands in my hair, I paced the small single room until my thoughts were coherent again.
I picked up my most recent wood carving, a duck, but set it back down after I trimmed one of the wings a little too far and nicked my thumb.
There were several hours before true dark, when I needed to be out in the ruins on patrol. There was only one way I was sure to get some rest instead of obsessing over my new neighbor, my visions, and what I was going to do about them.
I sat on the end of my bed, clasped my hands together and forced myself into stone sleep.
I woke refreshed, but no less burdened by my thoughts. I took to flight immediately once I was outside my little hut, relishing the slight chill on the early autumn air.
Nights in the ruins were my favorite time. Imagined or otherwise, the magic in the old stones seemed to be strongest under the moonlight while most of the creatures in the forest slept.
Castle Emankor had once been a sprawling stronghold, backed by mountains to one side, courted by a river along the edge, and facing the most fertile valley in all of Cyntere.
It had been built in the shape of an X, more or less.
I would have loved to have seen it when it was whole, such a place was surely nothing short of a spectacle at its height.