Page 77 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
Moonlight filters through the canopy, painting everything in cold silver. No crickets sing. No wind moves the leaves. Even the rivers seem to sleep.
“How far do you think her curse extends?” Ryllen asks as we continue through the woods.
“I’m not sure if it’s the entire kingdom or simply the capital and the surrounding forests,” I reply. “You said her magic was powerful, and now we’re seeing just how much.”
Hours pass before Ryllen finally speaks again. “I’m impressed by your stamina. I didn’t think you could fly so far, given your size.”
I snort. “Gargoyles are stone-born. Our wings are strong. Just like the rest of us.”
“You know… Lorys was quite excited at the prospect of having a Gargoyle in our ranks back in Andoryn,” he adds. “Your kind are known for their battle prowess and their undying loyalty.”
I arch a brow. “And yours are known for their charm.”
“Yes, well, it didn’t seem to do me much good when I first met you.” He laughs. “I swear I could practically feel your eyes burning holes in the back of my head.”
I snort out another laugh.
“At the time I thought you were simply overprotective of your charge. But then I realized…”
His voice trails off but I already know what he meant to say.
“I wouldn’t have stood in your way if—”
“I know,” he says. “But I’m glad it didn’t come to that.” He turns to me. “After she told me the truth—that she was in love with someone else—I would have released her from our betrothal if not for the curse.”
“I know. And that’s why I decided I liked you,” I offer. “You are an honorable male.” A smirk twists my lips. “For a Fae.”
He laughs again.
We stop when the forest grows too thick to navigate safely in the dark, landing near a small clearing. Together we build a fire to counter the cold.
Ryllen hands me a canteen as he settles across from me, shadows dancing across his sharp Fae features. “When this is done,” he says quietly, “when she wakes… what will you do?”
“Whatever she needs.” I stare into the flames. “There is no future I want without her.”
He nods slowly. “She’ll want you beside her. I’m certain of it.” He smiles faintly. “I was… an obligation. You were her choice.”
I study him for a long moment. “You’re handling this better than I expected.”
“I’m a prince, not a fool. She never looked at me the way she looked at you. And we weren’t in love. At least… I wasn’t. Not quite yet.” He pokes at the fire with a stick, sending up a drift of sparks. He looks up at me, arching a brow. “Also, you’re a terrifying mountain of muscle with claws the size of daggers. I’d be an idiot to fight you over a woman who clearly loves you.”
A startled laugh escapes me.
For the first time since the curse fell, we relax. We sit in quiet companionship, the fire crackling, the night pressing in close.
Eventually, Ryllen leans back on his elbows, staring up through the break in the trees. “I can’t help but wonder why we’re still awake,” he says. “There must be something we’ve missed in the curse.”
In truth, this thought has crossed my mind too. “I agree.”
“Perhaps Maribel’s spell applies to both of us: the prince bound by prophecy”—he points to himself and then gestures to me—“and devotion etched deep in the heart.”
“But we both tried the kiss and it didn’t work,” I point out.
His brow furrows deeply. “Then, we’re missing something.”
I study him a moment, considering. “I believe you’re right.”
“Now, we simply need to figure out what.”
