Page 9 of The Gargoyle's Gift
“Because you seem overly content to spend your time here instead.”
She paused, a confused look on her face. Her momentary blink, along with a blanked expression, had me on the verge of regretting my words.
“If I’m unwelcome, Gaius, all you have to do is say so.” She made no effort to move, just went back to working on the chains with a pair of her hooked stitching needles. It was like she was knitting, but in reverse. It was fascinating to watch, and I’d spent more time doing just that than I wanted to admit. “Shall I go then? I’m quite thrilled with the progress I’m making, but if you want the joy of managing it all yourself…”
I sighed, the storm in my chest an irritation. I honestly didn’t mind her presence in my space, but was far from used to the idea of having such regular company. “No. I have no burning desire to untangle those necklaces.”
“You’re absurd. You know that, right?” Her head tilted to the side as she quickly ran her gaze up and down the length of my body, a wry laugh rumbling out of her slender throat. “I’d be happy to keep working on these in my own apartment if you like.”
“They stay here,” I said, tone sharper than I intended. All of the glass in the hut gave a gentle rattle, and she glanced over her shoulder at the window.
Nobody could know about this trove. Several rumors were circulating Revalia about where all of the goods had vanished to after Caster’s untimely death, despite the assurances I’d gotten that there would be no backlash or interest in finding the parties responsible. I was betting that it was mostly disappointed competition wondering how they’d missed their chance to take itfor themselves, but the lower the possibility of it being linked to me, or stone kin at all, the better. Besides all that, I still had to figure out a way to get as much of it back to the proper owners as possible, and that was a monumental task.
“So with this, at least, you prefer having help?” she asked coyly, a grin on her mouth as she turned back toward me.
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Then it seems our arrangement stands.” I watched as she returned to her very attentive work, carefully moving one link at a time, unbraiding and fanning out the necklaces over the blanket. She sat cross-legged on my bed again, though instead of skirts, she’d started arriving in tunics and trousers.
Her scent had become embedded in my coverlet, the bright citrusy smell driving me mad long after she left for the night, and I’d finally lain down. I wanted to extract anything to do with her from my life while simultaneously having the urge to wrap myself in her essence.
It was infuriating.Shewas maddening.
And yet the desire to tell her to leave, to stay gone, simply would not come.
Some nights,after Lovette left me alone in my hut, I continued on with the list of things I’d set for myself after the council had unceremoniously removed me from my long-held post. I had nothing left to lose except some sleep, and I wasn’t all that good at resting anyhow, so it worked out just fine.
Before Caster, I’d set things to rights where a group of wealthy merchants and their army of teamsters were involved. They were responsible for throttling the flow of food and other necessary goods to the poorest sectors of the city. Much likeCaster, they’d done so under the authority of the council, but that didn't make it right. I had no grace left to fall from, so the task seemed a good fit for me.
There had been more of them than I’d planned for, so it had taken several nights to manage the lot, but it was finally done. Hopefully, any enterprising businessmen with similar ideas of hoarding the most basic supplies in order to make extortionate profits got the message their untimely deaths had left. The council—who’d not only permitted such ugliness to happen but had given it their blessing—seemed unusually quiet about how one whole section of estates had turned up dead. I expected some kind of rumor about a tainted well to start circulating very soon.
Those fights had taken me to the infirmary and damaged my sword, if only due to the sheer number of opponents I’d faced. It had been nice to use my body for the things it was good at, what it was trained to do. My arm and leg were a hinderance I had yet to learn to live with peacefully, but every body that fell to my blade without me crumbling along with it was a reminder that I wasn’t dead yet. No matter how much I sometimes wanted to be. No matter if I stumbled a few times in the process, literally and figuratively.
The ale helped some, but even it was losing effect, and I was growing more and more concerned that it was contributing to my increasingly weak memory.
I was no longer a general with stone kin soldiers under my command. I was no longer an agent working undercover within the criminal element on the council’s behalf. I’d been the worst kind of man—one under the belief that he was doing it for the right reasons. And now I no longer had four limbs that all functioned like they should. It was all so laughable from my new perspective on the far outside edge of things.
I’d expected to be openly shunned by my kin, but nobody went out of their way to be rude or leave when I showed up. Several of the young soldiers who had been present when it happened made sure to at least nod my way when we saw one another. Mostly, I got a neutral avoidance from people. I was alone no matter when I arrived or where I sat in the crowded meetinghouse, though if I spoke, I got a response, if never a whole conversation. Honestly, that suited me fine. Nobody else seemed to even notice my damaged limbs, let alone think they were anything to look twice at. Scars were revered by our people after all, a testament to one’s life experience and ability to survive. Itching and tingling sensations aside, when I looked at them, I saw the curse spreading through my veins and killing the life within, even if the flesh had returned to something close to its original color. I saw the almost-future that had me rendered completely useless, better off dead.
That was the fate I deserved for all I’d done, but the little healer had intervened, and saved me anyway.
There was something terrible festering within council walls, I was surer of that now than ever before. Someone who shouldn’t be in control was pulling strings on puppets like me who had been nothing but loyal, honest soldiers. There were too many things I’d turned a blind eye to in the name of duty. Too many coincidences. Too many gaps in information that seemed vital, especially after my run-in with the red-haired fae who turned his cursed blade on me. I swore to myself I would deal with that, too, now that the supplies were flowing and Caster was gone. I’d deal with every bit of it, once and for all, whether it restored what little remained of my honor or not. I just had to bide my time a little longer.
And then there was Lovette, flitting around like a little dove, fixing us all when we needed it. Smiling while she manhandled her patients and made perfect little stitches in their flesh sothere wouldn’t be any lingering issues with healing… but still a scar as record of what they survived. Lovette, invading my space, my life, my chest, myair.
A distraction I didn’t need, couldn’t avoid… and had started looking forward to.
Chapter 6
Lovette
“Ialready have a weapon,” I argued, handing back the fancy dagger my sister had just given me. “Several, in fact.”
“This one is better,” she argued, arm outstretched, the blade of it in her palm.
“Imogen.”
“Lovette.”
