Page 46 of Immortal Sentry

Damn the waiting. Eron grabbed a dark blue woolen cloak and snuck out through the secret passage when he couldn’t stand the Zetuna-damned tapestries—or the wait—a moment longer, leaving his guards watching an empty room. He climbed to the ramparts. The missing gargoyle he’d seen from the forest had somehow reappeared. Eron hid in the shadows to watch. Why had Kerric lied to him about the gargoyle?

And what of Kene’s tales that the gargoyles were once men?

The last of the sun’s rays sank behind the horizon.Crack!Eron jumped, grabbing his dagger. The stone gargoyle splintered,shards falling, disappearing where they fell. Where the gargoyle once stood—was a man.

A familiar man with silvery hair.

Chapter Eighteen

Kerric felt a problem the moment the transformation ended. He yanked his sword from its sheath and whirled. “Who’s there?” He stood, letting his eyes adjust to the low light. Nothing.

And yet.…

“I know you’re out there. Show yourself.” Could it be one of Crau’s sycophants? Or Crau himself?

Footsteps slowly approached. Eron stepped into the moonlight. “I thought there was a gargoyle here. You’re one of the cursed guards, aren’t you?”

Kerric’s sword nearly slipped from his numb fingers. “Prince Eron.”Oh, great Ibrus, what must the man think of me now?

“Hello, Kerric.” Eron took a few steps closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Do you know how wrong it sounds to say, ‘I’m cursed to be a gargoyle’? That until you returned to the castle, I was forced to stand here day and night, watching the comings and goings ofthe people, unable to move. Knowing my men, men who trusted me, were also cursed for my actions?’”

“No worse than saying, ‘I’m not really a highwayman; I’m actually a king’s son.’”

Put that way.… “Yes, I concede the point.”

“Can you put your sword away, or do you intend to use it?” Eron's half smile shouldn't have affected Kerric's insides, but he couldn't deny the twist in his stomach.

Kerric added some levity to his tone. “If you put the knife away, Lord Night.”

Some of the tension bled from the moment. “It’s actually Lordling Night, and now you know.”

Kerric inclined his head. “Now I know. So do you.” He sheathed his sword.

“Aren’t you supposed to be my protector?” Eron stowed his weapon.

“According to legend, my men and I are supposed to take on our original forms at your return. So far, I alone reverted to human, and only at night.” Facing the end of one’s life meant he hadn’t listened too keenly to the details when Miisov cursed him.

And botched the spell.

“You disappeared from my room. I worried I’d been seeing things, but you actually vanished. Did you return here?”

“Yes. At dawn’s first light, no matter where I am, I reform as the stone gargoyle you just saw.” Kerric waved a hand toward the other statues. “My men are still stuck.”

Eron’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve been stuck here for twelve summers? Standing there, unable to move?”

Kerric cast his gaze down, unable to bear seeing pity in Eron’s eyes. “Yes. I’ve seen people come and go, watched you hold up carriages with a clever bandit I now know was a childhood idol. Something about you just caught my fancy. Maybe I envied your freedom. Or maybe even then, I recognized who you were andknew you could set us free. That matters less to me now. I want to see your family restored.” A finger under Kerric’s chin forced his head up to meet Eron’s gaze. When had Eron moved?

Not even a hint of pity showed on Eron’s handsome face. “I watched you. How you stood guard over everything. And for some reason, I felt better, knowing you were here watching over me. I’ve not had many people in my life I could depend on. I’d love to have one more.” Eron grinned. “Especially when they look like you. Tell me, Captain Kerric. When you saw me out in the forest, are you sure it was only my freedom you wanted?”

“What do you mean?” Kerric hadn’t felt this much in the presence of a predator since his last bear hunting trip, though Eron was shorter than Kerric by a hand, with less muscle mass and no razor-sharp teeth or claws.

Eron leaned up on his toes, putting his mouth nearly in kissing distance of Kerric’s. Kerric’s heart pounded. “First, my ass looks as amazing in breeches as it does outside of them, which you’ve now seen for yourself. Second, it’s good to finally know why you left so abruptly this morning. It had nothing to do with rejection, did it?”

Kerric swallowed hard. He wouldn’t back away. While he’d been taught fighting, not negotiating, even a soldier recognized the importance of the next few moments. Three choices stood open: pretend he didn’t understand the meaning of the words, claim to have rejected the advances—ending any additional chance—or be truthful. “No. It didn’t.”

The grin on Eron’s face promised wicked things that caused squirming low in Kerric’s belly.

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