Page 25 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
“You cannot marry,” my father says.
“Why?” I challenge. “Because I’m stone-born and she’s human? I don’t care.”
“It’s not that,” Fiora replies.
“Then what is it?”
“Aurora is not who you believe she is. She is Princess Rose of Briarwyn.”
The words strike like a hammer blow. “You’re wrong.” I gaze down at Auri. “The princess is under protection at the Temple of Amara. She—”
“That is a lie,” my father interrupts, his voice heavy as granite. “One created to distract Malvara—the Goblin witch who cursed her. The true princess was hidden here so we could keep her safe from the witch’s reach. With us.” He gestures between him and Fiora. “With you.”
My claws flex, scraping stone. “That cannot be.”
“It is,” Fiora says. “And now it is time for her to return home. To her mother and father—the king and queen of Briarwyn.”
My grip tightens. Aurora presses closer as my tail cinches around her. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?” I demand.
“Because my oath demanded I keep this secret,” my father says. “I was the king’s protector. When the curse was cast, he charged me with guarding the most precious thing he had—his daughter. I was removed from his side so I could be beside hers.”
He looks at me, and I see the pattern laid into our bones long before either of us was named. “As my father guarded the king, and his father the one before him, you were raised to guard the heir—Princess Rose of Briarwyn.”
All the years of training he gave me, they were not just so I could one day become a royal guard, but so that I could guard the future of the royal line. He was teaching me to protect her, even when we were mere children.
Like my father before me, I was carved for duty. There is nothing I wouldn’t do—nothing I would not sacrifice—to keep her safe, no matter the cost to myself.
“I—” My throat closes on the word. Shock scraping at the edges of everything I’ve ever believed. “You say she’s been in hiding because of a curse.” Fierce protectiveness surges through me as Aurora hugs me tighter. I curl my wings around her, wishing I could shield her from the world. “Is it safe to return her to the castle?”
Fiora exchanges a concerned look with my father before returning her attention to me. “We don’t have a choice,” she says soberly. “Aurora has had dreams of a spinning wheel.”
My heart stops as I remember Auri’s nightmares. “What does that have to do with all of this?”
“It’s part of her curse.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to contain my growing panic at the thought of Aurora in danger. “Tell me.”
Fiora exhales, her wings trembling. “The Goblin witch—Malvara—cursed Aurora to die by pricking her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel before her twenty-third birthday.”
Red magic sparks and rises from Fiora’s palm, shaping into a wheel of shadow and flame, its carved spokes turning quickly. A spindle gleams at the center like a sharpened needle, black silken thread winding around it. The air hums with the faint scrape of metal against wood, the sound setting my teeth on edge.
“But Maribel altered it,” Fiora continues. “She softened the dark spell. If it ever takes hold, Aurora will not die. She will fall into an enchanted sleep.”
I tighten my arms around her. “Shouldn’t we stay here? Isn’t it safer for her to remain in hiding?”
Fiora shakes her head. “Aurora’s nightmares can only mean one thing: the witch must be close to finding her. She must have somehow discovered the princess was not at the Temple of Arama. Malvara is powerful. She will do anything she can to make sure Aurora succumbs to her dark spell.”
“How can we break it?” I ask.
“If the curse comes to pass, Aurora will fall into an enchanted sleep until awakened by the kiss of fate’s chosen—a prince bound by prophecy and a devotion etched deep into the heart.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Prince Ryllen of Andoryn,” my father replies. “She has been betrothed to him since birth.”
Aurora trembles against me, and I fold my wings around her, desperate to shield her. “I don’t care about curses or princes,” she chokes out. Tears stream down her cheeks as she clings tighter. “I choose Thalric, and he chooses me.”
Pain shadows my father’s face, but his voice is steady. “Just as I am, and your grandfather before me… we are stone carved in the shape of duty, my son. We guard and protect the future of Briarwyn.”
