Page 21 of The Stones for It
“I want to do both. And then I’ll be rescuing myothermate. Who is also not dead.” I lifted my chin, refusing to be cowed under his overbearing intensity.
“Enough.” The infuriating statue held up a palm. “Your bickering is wasting my time.”
“My—?” I clenched my jaw against the cutting words that wanted out. I hated to admit it, but he was right, and I needed his help. This was his world. He knew how to navigate it far better than I did. “Fine, now what?” I fought to keep my tone even, but it came out too forcibly bright.
I’d known the bastard for barely a few hours and he was already under my skin.
“Luckily, I am an excellent tracker—”
“Andsomodest,” I gushed.
Honestly, I just couldn’t help myself.
Even I could admit that after the disastrous end to my military career, I had a chip on my shoulder when it came to authority, and this elitist fae’s domineering attitude was just begging me to bite back.
He scowled but continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “But we need to head upwind before crossing back. It would be such a shame if even a single strand of precious hair on your silly little head got burnt. We will begin our search where we saw him last.”
“Like he’s a missing sock,” I mused.
“Mortal…” The gargoyle’s voice pitched low and dangerous.
“Apologies, O Wise Fae Overlord.” I swept my hand along the riverbank, executing a low bow. “Please, lead the way. My tiny human brain cannot comprehend such advanced tactics.”
His answering growl was delightfully irritated, and I straightened with a smirk.
“Neiron owes me blood for this,” he muttered, stalking the water’s edge.
I followed his lead, padding across the grassy verge and trying to ignore the enticing muscular physique of the broad-shouldered gargoyle. His back was a masterpiece of carved muscle, the dips and valleys between the thick slabs peeking out from the folded membranes of his wings with each step. The bony black spikes tipping his wing arches were almost level with the tapered ends of his elfin ears, which rose from the short sides of his ice-white hair.
I ripped my gaze away in favour of the wildness Faerie offered. This side held more of the same dawn-hued rainforest, with dusky pink ferns fanning the riverbank, and vine-strangled trees twisting just beyond them.
Heat bathed my side, despite the wide expanse of river separating me from the flames. Pale smoke billowed above the inferno, the scent of charring wood and burning flowers thick enough to cover the blackberry sweetness that layered the forest.
Unfortunately, I really did owe the infuriating gargoyle for saving me from the raging foxfire.
I drew in a deep, smoky breath, trying to choke down my anxiety over Neiron.
Apparently, every time I found a mate, they were destined to get hurt. Because of me.
At least Vrath would be safe. Neiron’s theory about him also being fated for me was clearly his deranged idea of a joke.
Turning down the invite to my own pity party, I focused on my goals.
Save Neiron.
Save Rattle.
Run from the fae for the rest of my life.
Simple, really.
Long minutes passed as I studied the weapons along the gargoyle’s spine. The spikes were as sharp as his horns and ran the length of his back and thick tail, which started just above that ridiculous scrap of fabric tied low on his hips. His wings were neatly folded either side of the points, and studded with more of the same weaponry on the arches and tips.
Everything about him was designed for violence.
Even his elbows had sharp points.
He stopped suddenly, and I ground to a halt just shy of said pointy death tips.
