Page 19 of The Gargoyle's Gift
She smiled. “It’s always my pleasure. Now go. Be happy, my girls. Whatever that means.”
The old sorceress shooed us out of her hut, the wards pressing in almost painfully after the bright energy of the inside.
My sister and I rode the wind, side by side, all the way back to the conclave. Though I still had some work to do where my mate was concerned, my heart was all the lighter for it.
Chapter 10
Gaius
Ihadn’t seen Lovette for an entire week.
Her mile-wide stubborn streak was inherited from both sides, and she had employed it without hesitation where avoiding me was concerned.
She was never at the infirmary when I peered through the door on my way to or from the meetinghouse. There was no trace of her inside, though the whole place reeked of antiseptic like it had just been thoroughly cleaned.
I spent most of one day sitting in the meetinghouse listening to a handful of the uncles trading their tired battle stories, certain I’d catch her for at least one of the meals. But she never showed. I found myself hoping she had plenty of food stashed away somewhere, that my presence there wasn’t causing her to be hungry. This, of course, just made my chest burn more. Then, one of the uncles invited me to tell my own tales, reminding me that I was much of an age as several of them, which incited a series of emotions that left me feeling enraged and like I might be sick all at once. On top of that, my leg was stiff from having sat so long, and I’d been too proud to bring my cane with me, so I stumbled out of there, cursing like the raging drunk they all thought I was.
I wasn’t so daft I didn’t realize I deserved her silence, but I wasn’t sure how to make it up to her if she refused to be any closer than opposite sides of the conclave.
Imogen gave me a kind smile as she accepted the paltry work I showed up at the forge with. I’d scrounged up old daggers and armor, just to have an excuse to go there.
“You know, the candymaker in Revalia usually makes chocolates to sell at market on Wednesdays,” she said the first day, one eyebrow raised. “I’d suggest the tin with the red ribbon.”
“Chocolates? Red ribbon?” I stared at her, unsure if she thought we’d been having a conversation already, one I didn’t remember a bit of.
She nodded sagely, and I left, worried my memory was far worse than I thought. The following day, she did something similar, mentioning how there was a teahouse that made spectacular muffins of all varieties, and they also sold loose tea. Chamomile and hibiscus flower with rosehips were listed specifically.
“Coffee as well,” she nodded, beginning to hammer before I even turned to leave. “Any roast.”
By the third day, I finally caught on. She was giving me a lesson in cheeses when the pieces finally came together in my mind. Imogen was helping me. Telling me Lovette’s preferences. I left the forge shaking my head, ready to dig in my heels and proclaim I had no use for such information while simultaneously considering how best to get into the city for some shopping.
I spent so much time sitting in the small, unforgiving chair at my table sorting jewelry that every bit of me was stiff and sore. My bed was no longer a place my mind found rest, either, not with her scent still lingering in the quilt and the feel of her lips against mine burned into my memory. When I closed my eyes, I saw nothing but the hurt and rage there’d been in hers when I’dtold her to leave that night. Stone sleep was a welcome respite, but even that would not always come.
Briefly, I thought about switching huts so the memories would stop following me around quite so much, but it was not an undertaking I seriously considered.
The pile of ledgers grew smaller every day and the stack of rings taller, but I found no satisfaction in completing the task alone. All of the tools she’d left in the nooks and crannies of my hut and the board with necklaces hanging from it mocked me every time I looked at them. Never mind the burning in my chest that only intensified the longer she was gone. Ale didn’t drown it out, and no matter how I ran the situations over in my mind, nothing ever changed. It mattered little that I regretted saying several things. Even less that her words had struck a nerve so strongly there had to be truth in them.
I’d been a solitary operative for decades, alone with my secrets and the ego of my assumed persona. All that after I’d intentionally separated myself from any friendship that wasn’t related to my work. Then this little healer came along with her inability to find me fearsome and a firm touch that removed all anxiety from my body. It had only taken her a handful of days—nothing in the grand scheme—to crack every bit of armor I wore just by being herself and constantly present in my life.
It was beyond maddening.
No matter how I tried to color it differently, there was no avoiding the truth. Imissedher. And it was my own fault I was in such a state to begin with.
Growling, I tossed open the door of my hut and stumbled out, my leg increasingly awkward without the cane Imogen had made for me. There was something eerie about her gift, but I’d been blessed by both her blades and her tools, and I was not about to question when she’d handed it to me one day when Icame to pick up my sword. I just hated admitting outside my hut that I needed help walking.
As I sat in the meetinghouse drinking, watching the young men boast and the old men boast louder, I stewed in my own misery and tried to unknot the mess of thoughts plaguing me. If nothing else, Lovette’s absence left me plenty of time to sit in my own head.
I skulked in the memories of our disagreement, increasingly embarrassed at how I’d acted. Further, I was continually mortified by the primal urge to leave a basket of food, trinkets and baubles outside Lovette’s door. Several versions of an apology had written themselves in my mind, but my mouth scoffed at how foolish they sounded when it tried to give shape to the words. I practiced anyway, staring into a mirror in my hut like a fool. Then I realized that it would be far easier to write it out. With a shaky hand, several discarded sheets of paper, and plenty of cursing, I did just that. I still felt foolish but my conscience was eased some by the motions.
The bond, the loss of my revenge on the councilmen, the fact that my anger might not be so righteous… every bit of it left me uneasy.
After my fourth round of ale one night, a glimmer appeared in the muck.
If I planned it right, I could have the revenge I wanted in a very satisfying way. I could know once and for all what Augustus had meant when he said I “wouldn’t remember.”
So, I waited. I ate something substantial and drank the bitter brew Flora passed off as strong coffee. I left the gifts I’d finally given in and traveled to Revalia to collect outside Lovette’s door.
And I made damn sure there were no golden-haired shadows following me when I flew out of the conclave and back to the council building.
