Page 50 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
Before I can answer, Fiora enters the room, her red wings fluttering behind her. Lyria and Maribel follow, their expressions full of pity.
Fiora turns to me. “Aurora is safe in her room,” she says, anticipating my question. “The king and queen believe she is in love with a boy from the village. They do not know the truth. And if they ever suspect it isyoushe loves…” Her glance flickers to my father. “They may bar you from her entirely.”
That thought is a spike driven straight through my chest. To be kept from her entirely… I could not bear it. How can they ask me to stay away from her? To simply stand by while she drowns alone. I swallow the roar that wants to rip from my throat.She is mine.
“All of this is new to her. She’s been thrust into a world she only just learned of.” My tail lashes as my talons score deep into the marble at my feet. “You ask me to watch her break and do nothing.”
“Humans are capable of adapting rather quickly.” Maribel rests a hand on my forearm, squeezing it gently. “She is sad now, but time will ease that sadness. She is strong and she will be fine, Thalric. I’m sure of it.”
“We are not asking you to be cruel, we are asking you to do your duty,” my father stresses. “And to remember the cost of forgetting it.” His gaze holds mine. “You will remain her protector. That is your place. Keep your heart locked. Do not betray yourself with a word or a look. Do you understand?”
As much as I hate to admit it, my father is right. I must guard my emotions carefully. But it is difficult when every instinct deep within insists that she is mine.
I curl my hands into fists at my side, determined to do what I must. “I understand.”
But inside, I am breaking.
Fiora looks at me. “For now, we will let the king and queen keep believing the boy she spoke of is a memory from Oakvale. We will guard the truth as long as we can. To protect you both.”
I grind my teeth until my fangs ache as I recall the devastating sound of her broken sobs. Gargoyles are fiercely protective of their mates, and everything inside me howls to comfort her.
The truth echoes in my soul: I cannot simply abandon Aurora to her sadness and despair. I have always comforted her when she needed it. And I cannot bear the thought of her crying and alone in unfamiliar rooms, in a place that is so far removed from the only home she’s ever known.
My father and the others exit the room, leaving me standing in the shadows, my claws scoring lines into the stone as frustration burns through me.
Duty may bind my tongue, but it cannot chain my heart.
The moon is high above the palace towers as I soar through the night. Cold air rushes over my wings as I climb higher, circling wide to avoid the guards’ torchlight along the castle walls.
I don’t know which chamber is hers, but I don’t need to. I follow her scent as surely as I follow the wind—honeysuckle and lavender, mixed now with the salt of her tears. It tugs at me like a tether, drawing me unerringly to a balcony draped in heavy curtains.
I land silently on the ledge, my talons curling against the stone. Folding my wings close to my back, I walk to the doors and peer inside.
Her parents are with her, their voices hushed as her mother gently strokes her hair.
“You don’t send someone away if you love them,” Aurora says, her voice thick with emotion.
“We had no choice, my darling,” the queen says. “We hope someday you will understand.”
Aurora swallows hard before nodding. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “For the outburst.”
Her mother cups her face. “This is all new. It will take time.”
Aurora glances toward the window, her expression tight. “I don’t have time. You want me to marry Ryllen immediately.”
“You must,” the king insists. “Ryllen is the only one who can break your curse if Malvara finds a way to make it come to pass. But I’m sure Ryllen will agree to stay here for a while before returning to his kingdom, if that is what you wish.”
Before she can respond, a guard enters the room, informing her parents they’ve received another raven with a message from Prince Ryllen.
They stand to leave, but before they do, her mother presses another kiss to her forehead and cups her cheek. “We’ll speak more later, my daughter.”
The moment they are gone, she lies down on the bed, her back to the balcony. My heart clenches when I see her curled upon the silken bed, her face pressed to a pillow as her shoulders shake with muffled sobs.
I hesitate, my entire being warring with itself. Every instinct tells me to turn away, to leave her to her sorrow, to spare us both from this fresh wave of pain. But I cannot. My feet move before I can stop them, drawn to her like the tide to the shore. Then, carefully, I step inside, the air between us thick with unsaid words and unhealed wounds.
My heart clenches when I see her through the glass, curled upon the silken bed, her face pressed to a pillow as her shoulders shake with muffled sobs.
Quietly pushing on the doors, I slip into her chamber on silent feet.
