Page 11 of The Gargoyle's Gift
“That’s wonderful!” I congratulated them. “I didn’t think that project was moving so fast. How long will it take to finish?”
“He’s exaggerating a little, I think,” Grace said, the flush in her face slowly disappearing. “They’ve barely set out the wooden stakes and string to mark off where the walls will go.”
“But it’s progress!” he argued jovially. “A year, perhaps. Hopefully less. Rylan has contracted several of Revalia’s best craftsmen to do all of the necessaries.”
“It helps, of course, that Rylan wants a new dormitory built and agreed to keep everyone on for all of d’Arcan’s projects,” Grace added.
“That’s a lot of work,” Imogen said, settling back with her tankard cradled between her hands. Tonight we were drinking a special blackberry mead Father had brought with him from the city, and I was wishing my normal-sized glass was big like hers.
“It is. Years and years. Can you imagine getting contracted to work on an ever-growing collegium campus? The rest of your life would be planned out.” Grace smiled softly. “I’ve never had my own house before. I’ve always lived in an apartment of some kind.” Her expression dipped for a moment, as though she realized the company in which she’d said such a thing.
Stone kin cycled through whatever huts were available mostly, we were welcome to take any open bed. Gaius and I were both odd in that sense—I had a permanent apartment above the infirmary, and he stayed in one hut.
“I’m so happy for you,” I said, reaching across the table to briefly clasp her hand in mine.
“You’ll come visit, of course?” she asked.
“Naturally.” Imogen raised her cup in toast before taking a drink.
“You’re welcome at any time, even now. I hope you know that. Calla would love to see you, as well. D’Arcan is always open.”
Father shifted around in his seat. “Be mindful of Revalia. There are always things going on that I would prefer you stay away from, but it’s particularly odd, right now.”
“Odd how?” Imogen asked, frowning.
He shook his head, giving Grace’s hand a squeeze. “People who have long been protected ending up dead. Shifts in power among the criminal element. Thankfully the demon hordes have settled down for the moment, but it’s always something. It just feels… off lately. Even the council seems unusually shaken. I’d prefer you stay here at the conclave or go directly to d’Arcan if you have business in the city.”
I had no intentions of leaving again, at least not unless I was helping return some of the jewelry, but that meant little lately. There were plenty of things I was doing without really planning to, all of them involving a certain former general.
Imogen’s eyes were burning holes in the side of my face, but I just smiled serenely at my father, nodding my agreement with his request. She clearly suspected—as I did—that Gaius was probably involved with everything our father had just mentioned.
“Have you seen Gaius lately?” Imogen asked, turning her eyes from me to our father.
He settled back in the seat, tilting his head as though preparing to shoulder a burden. “Not in the last little while. Why?”
“He’s needed several repairs on his sword.” Father’s eyebrows raised at Imogen’s words.
“And he’s needed stitched up just as often,” I added.
“We are aware of some… grievances Gaius may be involved with. But I’ll see if I can’t get myself a little closer to the investigations. Is he causing trouble here?” He pulled Grace’s hand into his, stroking it gently after placing a kiss in her palm. The tension around her mouth eased under his affection.
“No. He keeps to himself mostly,” Imogen shrugged.
“That’s good.”
“Shall we take a little walk?” Father suggested. “Get the digestion moving?”
Grace visibly relaxed. “I wouldn’t mind seeing more of the conclave. When I was last here, there wasn’t really a chance to wander around.”
Imogen ran our dishes into the meetinghouse before we slowly made our way toward the forge. Father always loved to get a look at what she’d been working on, and I was certain he was hoping that one day soon there would be a blade waiting for Grace.
By the time we’d made a circuit of the settlement, including a stop at my apartment for a quick rest and more mead, Imogen was blinking heavily, and I was not far from doing the same.
“It was so good to see you again,” I told Grace when both Imo and I gave her a quick hug as they prepared to leave.
“Be safe, my daughters. And if you see anything suspect, let me know, yes?”
“Of course,” Imogen promised just before stifling a yawn that had her jaw cracking.
