Page 38 of Cherished By the Gargoyle
“We’ll stick to the forest,” I tell Aurora. “It shouldn’t be more than a couple day’s journey from here to the capital.”
She nods, and my chest tightens as she walks closer, slipping easily to my side.
I send a silent prayer to the gods, asking for their protection on our journey.
CHAPTER 22
AURORA
As we walk through the forest, dark memories fill my thoughts. I think of Fiora, Lyria, and Maribel… of Thalric’s parents and the brave knights who fought to defend me against the Ogres.
The terrible images surface in my mind, but I push them back down. If I let myself keep picturing the battle too clearly, I’ll fall apart.
Closing my eyes, I send a silent prayer to the gods that they didn’t all perish in the fight. Drawing in a deep breath, I force myself to shove down my worry, burying it beneath the rhythm of my steps as we continue through the woods.
“If we make good time, we should reach the capital in two days,” Thalric says, pulling me back from my thoughts.
“Do you think it’s safe to go there?” I ask. “I mean… the Goblin witch—Malvara—is searching for me. Won’t she realize that’s where I’ll be heading?”
“We don’t have a choice.” Thalric doesn’t break stride, his gaze fixed on the narrow trail ahead. “She’ll search for youwherever you go. You’ll be safer at the castle, surrounded by the elite guards—the Protectors of the Realm.”
Safe.Nothing feels safe anymore.
“Why would it be safe now when it wasn’t when I was a child?” The words slip out before I can stop them, sharp with the ache that’s been gnawing at me ever since I learned who I truly am.
Thalric slows, his wings shifting as if the question weighs heavily on him. “Because hiding worked… until now.” His voice is low, steady, but I hear the strain beneath it. “With a decoy in place at the Temple of Amara, the Goblin witch spent all these years trying to breach their wards to end you. Somehow, she discovered the truth—that you were never at the temple; you’ve been in hiding all along.”
He turns to me. “Now that she knows this, she’s hunting you. Your nightmares, Lyria’s visions… they were proof she was closing in on your location. If we stayed in Oakvale, she’d find you. The guardians knew it and so did my father. That’s why they sent for the Briarwyn knights to escort you back home.
“Fiora was worried because the curse is looming now, and the prophecy is clear. She believed having you wed to Prince Ryllen as soon as possible would be another layer of protection.”
Thalric’s tail curls around my waist as he speaks the prince’s name and despite the danger we’re in, hope sparks in my chest. It seems he’s having as much trouble with the idea of letting me go as I am at the thought of having to wed a stranger instead of him.
“Why wouldn’t Malvara have simply targeted Ryllen, then?” I ask.
“Because she doesn’t know of him. Your betrothal has been kept secret all these years.”
“Do you believe the castle is safe?”
“The palace has wards woven into its very stones. And the Protectors of the Realm will be there—dozens of warriors trained since birth to guard the crown. Against Malvara, against her creatures… against anyone.”
His gaze hardens. “It’s not perfect. But it’s stronger than the cottage and the village. Hiding worked when the witch was distracted by a decoy. Now, the only safety left is behind walls built to withstand her. That’s why she sent her Ogres to attack us. She knows that once you reach the capital, it will be that much harder for her to harm you.”
His words sink in like cold water. I want to believe him. I want to believe there’s a place where her shadow cannot reach me.
But nothing feels safe anymore.
“How do you know the Ogres were sent by her?”
“I recognized her mark.” His jaw tightens. “The Ogres wore her symbol on their armor—a green flame. My parents and the guards taught me to watch for it, before we left Oakvale.”
A shiver ripples down my spine. I start to ask another question, but my slippers catch on a root, and I bite back a wince as the raw blisters on my heels become aggravated even more.
Gods, my feet burn. But I can’t let Thalric know; he’ll insist upon carrying me. And he’s only just begun to heal from his own wounds, and I won’t weigh him down further.
Except of course, he notices. He always does. “You’re limping.”
“I’m fine.”
