Page 26 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
His stoic expression softens with regret. “I’m sorry we kept this from you. You were raised together, just as I was raised with the princess’s father. It was done to strengthen the bond of protection.”
He shakes his head. “We never once considered the two of you might—” He clenches his jaw. “If you care for her, you must let her go, Thalric. If you do not, the curse could take her. She could sleep for a hundred years or more. Only her marriage to Ryllen—only that bond—can break Malvara’s dark magic.”
My tail cinches hard enough around Aurora’s waist that I force myself to loosen it. The war inside me is not noble. It is brutal and animal and selfish. I want to steal her away into the dark, somewhere that fate cannot take her.
I want to press every memory we’ve ever made into the hollow of her throat, giving her my claiming mark so nothing and no one can take her from me.
But deep down, I understand the truth: stone doesn’t bend to wishes.
Cold fills me as I draw in a ragged breath. Slowly, I unfold my wings and force my arms to my sides. Curling my hands into fists, my sharp claws bite into my palms as I force myself to do what must be done. “Aurora, we cannot be together.”
“No.” Betrayal and pain burn in her eyes. “You don’t love me,” she whispers. “If you truly did, you wouldn’t be able to let me go.”
“Aurora, I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you do.” Her voice shakes as she fights back tears. “You could choose me. You could fight for me, Thalric… fight for us. But you won’t.”
Desperate to explain, I reach for her before I remember why I must not. She shoves against my chest with all her strength. Pain rips through me as her sobs tear into me like claws.
“Fiora was right.” Her voice is raw and bitter. “A gargoyle’s heart is stone. It cannot love the way a human’s can. And I was a fool to believe otherwise.”
Her words splinter something inside me. My tail lashes against the ground, aching to curl around her, to hold her tight, and hide her away from the world. But she’s already backing away.
“Aurora, please—”
“Stop,” she snaps. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
Before I can say anything else, she spins and runs, her cloak streaming behind her, swallowed by the darkness.
I start to go after her, but my father clamps a hand on my shoulder. “Let her go, my son.”
Fiora’s wings catch the moonlight as she disappears into the night, chasing Aurora’s fleeing form.
My claws score lines in the rock beneath my feet as my heart pounds against the cage of my chest, demanding what I can no longer give it.
Staring into the darkness, I build a wall inside myself so that what I have just broken to save her does not break me past my usefulness. Aurora’s life is at stake, and I will endure any pain to keep her safe. Her life is all that matters to me.
Auri believes I do not love her, but she is wrong. A gargoyle’s heart is stone… not because it cannot love, but because it is unyielding, immovable… eternal. Once it chooses, that choice cannot be undone.
And my heart has chosen her. Only her. Always. Even if the curse rips her from me, even if fate itself tears us apart, I will never stop being hers.
Tomorrow, I will do my duty. Tonight, I learn how to breathe without her.
CHAPTER 13
AURORA
As I lie on my bed, my chest feels hollow. As if someone has reached inside me and torn out my heart.
I begged Thalric to fight for us, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. If he truly loved me, he wouldn’t have been able to let me go.
I bury my face in my pillow and a broken sob rips from my throat as I recall the feel of his wings folding around me, sealing me into a cocoon of stone and warmth. The low rumble of his purr, vibrating through my body, comforting me when I had a nightmare. The way his tail would curl around my ankle as though of its own volition.
A deep ache settles in my chest because he chose duty and prophecy. He didn’t choose me.
The door creaks open, and I hear footsteps a moment before Maribel speaks softly. “Aurora, my darling girl.” The mattress dips as she sits on the bed and rests her hand on my shoulder. “Please don’t cry.”
“Go away,” I barely manage. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
