Page 8 of The Gargoyle's Grace
“As do I.” My words were clipped, my nerves displaying outwardly as anger.
His nostrils flared and he pressed heavy fingertips into my lower back, guiding me toward the center of town. It was then I realized my mistake. “You have people nearby, yes? But that’s not where you were.”
“I had dinner with my parents this evening,” I said, forced to take two steps for every one of his. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d left the basket behind at their apartment, not to mention my favorite pie plate.
“And then what did you do?” he asked, the grumble in his voice irritating. As if he had any right to ask me such things. To know what I did in my own time.
“What wereyouup to, exchanging coin with that smithy?” I asked, turning my head so I could glare at him.
“Paying for services rendered,” he said simply, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh? What are you having made? I’d love to see it. I thought you had your own guild for weapons and such.”
“We do.”
I shook my head, angling toward one of the streets that would take us a more direct route. “You keep your secrets then, and I’ll keep mine.”
We walked in silence past the neat rows of tall, connected houses. The set of his jaw and tense breathing told me he was waiting for me to start talking. He was in for several surprises if so.
A slow rumbling chuckle started in his chest. I looked over at him, eyebrow raised in question. “I was picturing you doing business with Lawrence Caster. It presented an amusing image. Something on you smells like those awful cigars he favors.” I just stared back at him, heat rising in my cheeks. “Tell me that’s not why you were over there, Grace.”
My maintained silence drew heat from the man walking beside me.
“Grace. Tell me you weren’t trading with that slimy usurer. I’m certain you know better than to deal with people like that.”
I simply stared him in the eye. Magnus’s jaw clenched, and the vein in his forehead slowly started to pulse. “Fine. I won’t tell you then,” I responded finally, the words tart on my tongue.
He growled in response, but I just kept walking. I’d be damned if he’d make me feel bad for taking care of business for my family.
Chapter4
Magnus
“Does the archmage know?” I reigned in my anger as best I could, but there was still gravel in my voice and my skin itched to turn to stone. Grace wasn’t one to flinch, but her eyes snapped to mine at the sharpness of my tone, and she stopped her tense march down the street.
“No, he doesn’t. There’s no need for him to. This ismyproblem to manage, not his. He’s my boss, not my keeper.”
Her words were sharp, stinging as they landed on my skin. I had no real business asking, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her working with such slime.
“I’m sure he’d like to know that you’re visiting a well-known criminal in the Barrens.”
She spun, prodding me in the chest with her finger so hard the knuckle blanched white. “Don’t youdare. My personal life is none of his business. Or yours.”
“I wasn’t aware you had one of those, to be honest,” I teased, cracking a wide smile so I didn’t get maimed.
I was smart enough to realize I’d overstepped, though my curiosity wasn’t dampened in the least. I wanted to know everything about her, including how she spent her free time. It was an annoying—though not unwelcome—twist in our relationship.
“It’s honestly a nice surprise knowing you do,” I continued. “I was convinced you only left the grounds to do work-related errands.”
Grace scoffed. “Fat lot you know. In any case, what I do on my time is my business. I’m well paid for my work, so don’t be trying to spin this around on the archmage. He takes care of me and mine quite well. Better than anyone could ask, in fact. Which is why he’s not involved.” Grace’s eyes traveled up my body and down again, as though she were assessing me for judgment. I straightened my shoulders in response, half tempted to shift into my gargoyle form so she could administer a proper inspection. “My money troubles are none ofyourbusiness either.” She turned and started her jog-walking pace once more.
I inhaled through my nose, getting a hint of her freshly-baked-bread-and-honey scent as she gained a small head start, as well as a muddled mix of other people on her clothing.
“They’re not evenmymoney troubles,” she fumed, waving her hands as she talked. “Technically, the debt belongs to my father. He’s doing the best he can, all things considered. He can’t do most proper work anymore because of his joints, and Mama’s already spread too thin with all her little jobs plus caring for him. Cooking, cleaning… it’s all too much. They should be able to enjoy their retirement.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as she’d started to rant. “It’s just been a slow couple of months. It’ll pick up, and we’ll be back on track again. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or me, but I didn’t think either of us was buying it. “Grace, there are other ways—”
She whirled on me, fire and ice in her eyes, the combination potent enough to make me hold my breath. My blood was up, arousal sang in my veins as she charged at me again. “I’m asking you right now to drop it. I’m neither looking for nor accepting handouts. Rylan has taken care of enough. This isourissue. We’ll handle it.”
