Page 20 of Eggsactly the Right Gargoyle

Something shifts in his expression. There’s a softening around his eyes, and a slight parting of his lips. For a breathless moment, I think he might lean closer, but he looks away and returns to his task.

By late afternoon, we’ve made significant progress. The clearing looks noticeably healthier. Our little vine seedling has grown another few inches, its tendrils now reaching out to connect neighboring plants.

“It’s creating a network,” says Dorian. “Linking the plants together to share magic and nutrients.”

“Smart little thing,” I say proudly, as if we’ve raised a particularly clever child.

As the sun begins to dip toward the horizon, I reluctantly begin packing up my tools. “We should probably call it a day. I need to check on my herb cart before the evening market.”

Dorian nods, though he seems reluctant to leave as well. “I’ll stay a bit longer. There are a few more seedlings I want to plant before dark.”

I hesitate, not quite ready to part ways. “Will you be here tomorrow morning?”

“Yes.” His answer comes quickly, almost eagerly. “Hopefully later than Atlas and his yoga mat though.”

I laugh. “I’ll try to run interference if he shows up with more wing-specific stretches.”

“I would appreciate that.” The corner of Dorian’s mouth lifts in what might almost be a smile.

As I gather my things, Hecate materializes beside me. “I’ll walk with you. I need to get back to Bella before she notices I’ve been gone all day.”

“She doesn’t know you’re here?” I ask.

Hecate waves a paw dismissively. “She thinks I’m napping in the café window. I left a glamour that looks like me sleeping. Works every time.”

We say goodbye to Dorian, who raises a hand in farewell. Once we’re on the path back to town, Hecate gives me a knowing look.

“So,” she says casually, “You and the gargoyle, huh?”

“What? No. We’re just working together to restore the grove.”

“Mmhmm.” Hecate’s collar charm turns a smug purple. “And I’m just collecting pollen for my invisible tea stash.”

“You are not helping,” I mutter, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

“I’m just saying, I saw how you two were looking at each other. Like Bella looks at fresh-baked muffins.”

“We were not—”

“And the way your magic mingles? Very intimate. Very romantic.”

I stop walking and look down at the tiny dog. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

Hecate’s expression softens. “Just be careful, sun witch. Stone hearts take a long time to warm up, but once they do...” She trails off meaningfully.

“We’re restoring a sacred grove together. That’s all,” I insist, though even to my own ears, the words sound hollow.

“If you say so.” Hecate trots ahead, her fluffy tail swishing. “But for what it’s worth, I approve. He needs someone bright like you, and you could use some solid ground beneath your feet.”

I watch her disappear around a bend in the path. Despite my protests, there is something growing between Dorian and me, something as new and fragile as the seedlings we’ve planted today. and like those seedlings, I’m not sure yet what shape it will take when it blooms.

Chapter 6—Dorian

I KNEEL BESIDE A CLUSTERof newly sprouted moonflowers, their silver-white petals unfurling toward the afternoon sun. Four days of restoration work has transformed the once-dormant Glimmergrove into something approaching its former glory. The air vibrates with magic—raw, wild, and increasingly potent.

“These are coming along nicely,” I say, running my stone finger along the edge of a petal. The flower leans into my touch, a reaction that still surprises me after centuries of plants withering at my contact.

“They love you,” says Talia from a few feet away. She’s coaxing a patch of luminescent moss to spread across a fallen log, her hands glowing with golden light. “Plants know who cares for them.”

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