Page 20 of The Gargoyle's Glade
I stuttered, realizing that she had tears in her eyes. “Lovette, listen?—”
“Shut up,” she chuckled, scrubbing her tears away. “I haven’t even missed you that much, you rotten brute. And I’m certainly not mad that you’ve been avoiding me.”
My little sister, who stood perhaps two full heads shorter than me but who’d always had a personality bigger than life itself, punched me hard—right in the same place Emry had been impaled by a rogue roof tile. Then she threw her arms around my middle and squeezed.
“It’s notlike we haven’t seen each other,” I protested as she dragged me through the meetinghouse, collecting everything she insisted we needed for a proper catch-up.
“We’ve seen each other for perhaps half a minute several times, that’s true,” she argued, piling sliced meat and cheese onto a plate. “But there’s always been a bunch of people around or somewhere urgent to be. I haven’t actually gotten to sit down and talk with you in months.” Her bright blue eyes fixed on mine as she placed several bottles in my arms. “I’m well aware that’s not your favorite thing, but I’m owed. You’ll survive an evening in with your sister…sss. Sisters. Probably. Maybe.” She tucked a whole loaf of bread under her chin and stalked out of the meetinghouse, hands full of overloaded plates and me ambling behind with all the drinks.
“Wait, Imo’s coming too?”
“Yes, assuming of course she’s finished with her project and doesn’t already have dinner plans. She comes by quite a lot, unlike any of my brothers. Only the Fates know when I might actually get to see mytwin, the bratty worm.” She shook her head, curls bouncing.
My thoughts spun as I came to terms with how differently my day had gone than I expected.
“Nice to see you Coltor!” Jorna, one of the aunts who ran the kitchen, called after us with a chuckle.
At least we were between mealtimes, and there were only a couple of people gathering snacks like ourselves. I didn’t think I would have fared well if the hall had been full of my kin. I’d visited once, shortly after Seir had proven he could mind my post for me. I’d lasted long enough to bumble my way through greetings to a very loud and enthusiastic group of revelers enjoying some kind of party, greet my father, kiss my sisters on their cheeks, and leave again. It took me a solid week to recover.
“Of course she is. Do you really think nobody dashed over to the forge to gossip the second you walked into the infirmary?”
Her pace was nothing short of speed walking, always had been. I was using my longest strides to keep up with her as we passed the infirmary door, then went around the corner of the building to a staircase that led up to her apartment.
Another thought occurred as we approached the door. “Is Gaius here?” My sister had found her mate not long before, and while I didn’t necessarily dislike the man, the two of us in a room together would likely provide some tension as we maneuvered our new familial ties.
“No. He’s at the outpost, like always. They can’t seem to keep enough staff to save themselves.” She huffed a little, frustration obvious. “You’re stuck with us girls this evening.” Lovette used her toe to nudge the door open, revealing Imogen already sitting comfortably on the plush sofa. “You’re here!”
Imogen returned Lovette’s smile. I enjoyed seeing that their bond had grown in my absence. “I should have checked the meetinghouse, I could have helped,” she said, making room for the plates and cups on the low coffee table.
“No need, we’re all set,” Lovette said, appraising the spread before heading into the adjoining kitchen. “I’ll just get some utensils.”
Imogen’s head tilted as she took me in with her eyes, then her arms. Her grip was as impressive as ever because of her work as forge mistress. Her forearms might even have gotten bigger than mine. “Nice to see you, little brother.”
“You look well, Imo.”
“She’s practically radiant lately,” Lovette snickered from behind her.
“Hush.” Lovette only laughed harder at Imogen’s protest.
“Have they got a name?” I asked. A lightness came over me, the banter between me and my sisters comfortable.
“Brom,” Lovette supplied helpfully, returning with a fist full of silverware.
Horrified, I straightened. “The mason?”
“Saints, no,” Lovette laughed and Imo cursed at me. “The other one.”
Relieved that my sister hadn’t started dating a relic, I sagged, considering who else it could be. “The leathersmith?” My brows drew together. He was at least around our ages and not a hunched old man.
“That’s the one.”
“Lovette.” Imo sighed deeply, clearly having had this particular conversation with our little sister several times.
“It’s hilarious every time, though!”
Imogen rolled her eyes. “For you. Why is it that everyone assumes I’d be attracted to Old Brom in the first place? That’s insulting. To both of us, honestly.”
Lovette laughed, the cheerful sound drawing a smile out of me. “They’re adorable together,” she assured me. “Make yourself comfortable.”
