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"It's the thought that counts," I say, trying to defend the chef's efforts.
Griffin gives me a look, silently stating that he begs to differ. "Until it ends with food poisoning and praying to the porcelain god," he retorts.
"Thewhat?"I give him a weary look, poking my fork at the raw potato.
I’ve never heard of one of the old gods being made of porcelain, and certainly not one that had divinity over it.
"I mean the toilet, love," he sighs, rolling his eyes. "But we're at a table, and I'm trying very hard not to be vulgar."
Pursing my lips, I nod, then a bite of the apple. It's crisp and juicy, a far cry from whatever monstrosity lies on my plate, but it’ll do.
19
Valeria
I stand beside Griffin,arms crossed as I watch the three gargoyles attempt, yet again, to communicate their request. So far, it’s been a mix of stuttering words and animated gestures.
Two days have passed since Griffin convinced me to eat breakfast with him and leave Asmo’s side. To my luck, it hasn’t made his condition any worse, but he hasn’t changed much either. The most we’ve seen from our darling lord is a subtle shift of his head.
"Is it… dancing?" Griffin guesses, scratching his chin thoughtfully as he observes the stone creatures gyrating and hip-thrusting with surprising enthusiasm.
"I don’t know if that’s what I’d call dancing,” I say, unable to suppress the giggle that bubbles out at me as the stone men grind on one another. “It is… Well, you know.” I bounce my eyebrows.
“What?” Griffin gapes at me. “Do you mean sex?”
I give him a slight nod, cringing as the gargoyles keep going at it.
“Well, is she right? Are you fools wanting to get laid?” Griffin visibly cringes, his eyes dropping to their naked stone bodies. “I think the three of you are lacking the necessary parts for that.”
The stone men groan in unison, one palming his face hard enough to chip his eyebrow.
“Not that then,” I say, pursing my lips. “Could you write it?”
Griffin shakes his head. “Tried that the first day. We’re out of pencils. Their meaty hands broke them all.” He glares at them as if it’s their fault.
“All right, then try again.” I wave them on, pulling out a chair from one of the various round tables in the throne room and taking a seat.
The gargoyle chef shakes his head, then waves to the other two, as if he’s telling them to assume the position. Though the gargoyles have tried to get better at speaking and have impressively improved their charades game, it’s still painstaking to communicate.
Don’t even get me started on Eep, the one I’ve all but dubbed my lady’s maid since she seems to only be interested in cleaning my room. I’ve learned that arguing with her gets nowhere and have settled on letting her do as she pleases.
The gargoyles jump around, the marble floors shaking from the movement, then two of them proceed to tango, while one steals Griffin’s wine bottle out of his hand and dumps the crimson liquid all down the front of him, since he can’t swallow once his stone mouth is full.
"Wait! Is it a party?" Griffin jumps up, eyes bright.
The gargoyle chef nods vigorously, his stone features contorted with relief. He leans against one of the round tables as if all of this dancing has taken it out of him and the wooden surface tips under the strain of his weight.
"Well, why didn't you say so?" Griffin grins, waggling his eyebrows at me. "I'm always up for some good shenanigans."
“I’m sure you are.” I roll my eyes and point out the obvious. "It's not a good idea to invite company here when the Lord of Grim’s Keep is in a coma and the only other high standing individual can't leave the boundary wall."
Griffin's smile falters, and he concedes with a nod. "I suppose you’re right. We can be ready for it when he wakes up, then.”
I hesitate, considering it. When I can’t come up with another excuse to say no, I nod slowly, giving in to Griffin's infectious enthusiasm.
"Perfect," Griffin declares, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "We'll be ready with libations and the chef can make all the food, so the others can sniff their way into heaven and happiness." He pauses, jumping up to his feet for dramatic effect, "We can have live music and dancing in this very throne room."
I hold up a hand, stopping him. "Asmo doesn't like people. The last thing he'll want to do after waking up from a coma is cater."
