Page 18 of Cherish

The muscle on the side of his jaw tics for a few more seconds before he turns his intense gaze on mine, and my knees full-on tremble at the storm raging in their blue depths. “That would depend on what their intentions are,Grace.”

“Meaning?” On this one point, he’s going to have to spell it out for me.

“Meaning, I would do anything to keep you and our people safe.”

That doesn’t mean torture. It can’t mean torture. Except I know how Hudson feels about me, know just what he would risk—and what he would do—to keep me safe. And now that he’s made a home here at the Gargoyle Court, now that he cares so much aboutourpeople, it’s hard to imagine that same protectiveness won’t extend to them.

We’re in this together. Gargoyle queen and king, which means he has as much say in what goes on here as I do. And it’s not like I thought we’d see eye to eye on everything when it comes to leading, but this…this is a big one not to agree on.

Still, now isn’t the time to hash this out. Not when Artelya—and the prisoner—are waiting below. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll sing like a canary the minute they take in the expression on Hudson’s face. I know I would.

Deciding now isn’t the best time to argue about something that may never happen, I plaster on a smile I’m not really feeling and say, “Well, then, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” then open the castle door.

The tension between us is so thick that my skin feels tight and itchy by the time we reach the basement—which, now that I’m down here, I realize is really just a dungeon. And a surprisingly creepy one at that. Damn it. I truly thought that gargoyles, the keepers of balance and arbiters of justice, were above having a place to keep people prisoner, but judging from the chains embedded in the walls, I’ve been far too naive.

I just wish I knew what to do about it.

Thankfully, Artelya comes rushing toward me before I can get any more inside my own head. “I’m sorry it took me so long,” she says as she pulls a long skeleton key out of her pocket.

“Who’s in there?” I ask, nodding to the unmarked wooden door of the interrogation room. “I mean, who could you possibly need to interrogate right now?”

“We found one,” she replies with grim satisfaction.

“Found one of whom?” I blink, baffled.

“A hunter,” Hudson answers, and Artelya’s eyes narrow on his.

“Yes,” is all she says before she snaps the key into place and turns the lock.

We all know the Crone’s been training hunters to kill paranormals, but honestly, we haven’t actually seen much evidence of that in months. Not since she was freed from her island prison, at least.

Of course, the Circle had discussed looking into the matter further at our last council meeting, keeping an eye on their activities, but I had no idea that plan had evolved to the let’s-kidnap-one variety.

Artelya inclines her head, correcting herself with, “Actually,shefoundus.”

“She came here? To the Gargoyle Court?” I ask, cheeks flushing and fists clenching. “She seriously had the nerve to show her face on our cliffs?”

Outrage, ice-cold and livid, slices through me. Not enough to make me want to torture this woman, but more than enough to make me want to kick her ass in a fair fight. Who the hell does she think she is, marching right up to the home of my people, of my grandparents, with her misinformation and unfounded hatred?

“We think she’s a spy, though I’m not sure, since I haven’t had a chance to inter—question—her.”

“I’m surprised the Crone would risk venturing this close when she’s done everything to remain hidden up till now,” I say.

“Because we are her biggest threat,” Artelya answers, looking insulted. “The Gargoyle Army is the only thing standing in their way now when it comes to paranormal genocide and world domination.”

I’m not sure it’s the only thing, but I don’t say that. Instead, I watch her reach for the door handle as she asks, “Do we know if they’ve been sneaking around the other Courts, too?”

“Not yet,” I tell her at the same time Hudson responds, “Yes.”

I turn and shoot him a we-will-talk-about-this-later look, which he has the brains to answer with a sheepish half nod.

Artelya raises her brows, then asks, “Ready?”

Not even close. I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do in that room. But I’ve been faking it till I make it for a year now. What’s one more hour?

“Absolutely,” I decide. Then take a breath and follow Artelya into the dank, dismal room.

And immediately wish I were anywhere else.

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