Page 39 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
His gaze cuts to me, molten and sharp, and my stomach dips. He knows me too well. He knows when I’m lying.
Before I can protest again, he sweeps me up as if I weigh nothing and sets me on a fallen log. His huge frame lowers, wings folding tight as he kneels before me. “Show me.”
I cross my arms. “I said I’m fine.”
He arches a brow, unamused.
I huff out a breath. “Fine.”
He takes my foot gently in his clawed hand, turning it so the tattered slipper slides free. Cool air stings the raw skin, and I bite back a hiss. He frowns as he studies the damage. “Such strange, dainty feet,” he murmurs.
My mouth falls open. “Strange? They’re perfectly normal, thank you very much.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Three toes would be more practical.”
“Maybe for you.” I sniff, though my cheeks heat as his thumb brushes carefully along the curve of my arch.
For one glorious moment, the heavy fear between us lifts, replaced by teasing warmth. Then he exhales, sliding my slipper back on. “You’ll need better shoes.”
He scoops me up again, and I squeak, clutching at his shoulders. “I can walk!”
“Not like this.” His chest rumbles beneath my palms. His arms feel impossibly strong, and gods help me, I love the way it feels to be carried like I’m something precious.
After a few hours, we stumble upon a lonely farmstead hidden in a clearing. Thalric carefully sets in the brush, his gaze fierce. “Stay hidden. Don’t make a sound.”
“Why? What are you—”
But he’s already gone, melting into the shadows. My pulse hammers as I watch from the trees, holding my breath while he disappears into the barn. Seconds stretch into an eternity. I picture a farmer stepping out, a crossbow raised, Thalric caught—
Then he’s back, a pair of boots in his hand.
I glare at him as he sweeps me up again, carrying me swiftly away. “You stole those,” I hiss.
“They weren’t stolen. I left gold,” he replies calmly. “A trade.”
“More like a forced trade,” I mutter, but my heart thrums with relief that he’s safe all the same.
When we stop, he kneels again, slipping the sturdy boots onto my feet himself. They’re a little big, but warm and thick. My gaze drifts to my ruined slippers lying in the dirt, and my throat tightens. Fiora gave them to me.
“Do you think they’re all right?” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Fiora, Lyria, Maribel… your parents, the knights…”
Thalric lowers his gaze. “I saw them still fighting when I carried you away. The Ogres’ numbers were overwhelming, but maybe—” His voice trails off.
I swallow hard. The silence between us says everything words cannot.
“We have to believe they’re alive,” I whisper fiercely, even as fear claws at my chest. If I allow myself to believe otherwise, I’ll break down, and we cannot afford that right now.
He inclines his head, but the heaviness in his eyes betrays his doubt.
By nightfall we find shelter near a stream, far enough from the road to remain unseen. The air is cool and damp with mist, and I shiver slightly.
Thalric gives me a worried look. “We cannot build a fire,” he murmurs. “It would draw attention to us.” He pulls me intohis lap and folds his arms and wings around me, like a wall of warmth and stone.
I burrow against him, my cheek pressed to the solid wall of his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath my palm, strong and sure. How can he not love me still when he holds me like this? When he cares so fiercely?
Sadness tightens my chest as I think of simpler times. I dreamed of going to the capital with Thalric. But now… I would give anything for us to be back in Oakvale, before I learned the truth of who I am.
Tears sting my eyes. I try to blink them back, but it’s no use. The first one escapes my lashes and rolls down my cheek.
