Page 23 of Eggsactly the Right Gargoyle

Grizelda’s warning about Ostara’s Mating Phase remains between us. “We should focus on our work. The boundary stones need reinforcement before nightfall.”

She nods, tucking the scroll into her apron pocket. “Right. Work. That’s why we’re here.”

We walk side by side toward the outer edge of the grove, where ancient boundary stones form a protective circle. Neither of us mentions the kiss from earlier or Grizelda’s warning. The professional distance feels forced, unnatural, but necessary.

“I’ll start on the eastern markers,” says Talia, her voice overly bright. “You take the western ones?”

“Good plan.” I nod stiffly. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

We separate, moving to opposite sides of the grove. Distance should help clear my head, give me space to regain control. Instead, I’m hyperaware of her every movement. The rustle of her dress as she kneels by a boundary stone. The soft hum she makes when concentrating. The golden glow of her hands as she channels her sun magic into the ancient markers.

I press my palms against a weathered boundary stone, trying to focus on my task. The stone responds immediately, warmingbeneath my touch. Gray tendrils of my magic flow from my fingertips, seeping into the cracks and crevices, strengthening the protective enchantments.

The stone vibrates, almost purring under my hands. This is unusual. Normally the stones accept my magic quietly, without reaction. Tonight they seem eager, almost greedy for the power I offer.

“Dorian?” Talia calls from across the grove. “Are your stones acting strange?”

I look up to see her standing beside a boundary marker that’s glowing with golden light. “Define strange.”

“They’re responding more than usual. Almost like they’re drinking the magic.” She places her hand on the stone again, and it illuminates brighter.

“Same here. The magic is flowing more freely tonight.”

I return to my work, moving from stone to stone around the western perimeter. Each marker responds more enthusiastically than the last, some even emitting soft musical tones when my magic connects with them. By the time I reach the northwestern corner, the stones are practically singing.

The sun dips below the horizon. Normally, I’d suggest we continue tomorrow since working after dark in a magical grove can be unpredictable, but I’m reluctant to leave.

“Should we call it a day?” she asks, meeting me at the northern point of the circle. Her scarf has shifted to a deep purple with gold flecks, and her eyes shine with the residual glow of her magic.

“We could,” I say slowly. “Or we could finish the northern section together. The stones seem to be responding well to our efforts.”

“I noticed that too.” She smiles, and something inside me warms at the sight. “They’re practically dancing with the magic.”

We kneel side by side before the largest boundary stone, a massive granite monolith carved with ancient symbols. Our shoulders brush as we both reach out to touch the stone. The contact sends a jolt through me, like lightning beneath my skin.

“Ready?” she asks, slightly breathless.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. We place our hands on the stone simultaneously, her warm brown fingers next to my gray stone ones. The effect is immediate and powerful.

Golden light from Talia’s magic meets my silvery gray power, twining together in spirals that sink into the boundary stone. The monolith hums, then glows with a brilliant white light that spreads outward, racing along the ground toward the other stones.

“What’s happening?” She gasps as the light connects with each boundary marker, creating a glowing circle around the entire grove.

“I’m not sure.” The magic continues to build. “I’ve never seen the stones react like this.”

The white light pulses twice, then shoots upward from each stone, forming a dome of shimmering energy over the grove. Inside this magical barrier, the air grows thick with power. The scent of petrichor mingles with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, her face upturned to watch the magical display.

I should be concerned about this unexpected development. Instead, I’m captivated by the way the light plays across her features, highlighting the curve of her cheek, and the fullness of her lips.

She turns to me, catching me staring. “Dorian?”

“We should check the rest of the grove,” I say quickly, standing and offering her my hand. “Make sure everything is stable.”

She takes my hand, and another surge of energy passes between us. This time, neither of us pulls away. Her fingers remain entwined with mine as we walk back toward the center of the grove.

The transformation is already underway. Grass that was merely green this morning now emits a soft, phosphorescent glow. Flowers that were budding have burst into full bloom, their petals luminescent in the gathering darkness. Even the trees seem more alive, their leaves rustling despite the still air.

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