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Ge gives me a lazy look over his shoulder. "You wound me—" The boulder-like creature he’s sitting on whirls to face me, the movement so abrupt that Griffin nearly loses his balance. He clings to the gargoyle's round head. His turquoise eyes widen as he stares past me, raising his arms triumphantly in the air. "The lord has risen!" he shouts.
Confused, I scowl at him, face scrunched. Slowly, I turn around to find Asmo leaning against the doorframe of the throne room, looking very much alive. My heart leaps in my chest and relief floods through me. Over the last week, I've gotten close enough to Griffin that I wouldn't hesitate to hug him if he had been the one in a coma. But with Asmo, I'm not quite sure how to react or what’s acceptable.
"Just so you know," I say, pointing a thumb over my shoulder at Griffin, "all of this was his idea."
Asmo smirks, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the room. I can't help but study him, basking in the sight of him awake and well. His dark amber eyes are filled with amusement. Asmo's smirk widens as he takes a step into the room, his eyes flickering between Griffin and me.
"I see you two have grown closer," he says, damp strands of his blue-black hair clinging to the nape of his neck. He must’ve bathed before coming out of his room to find us.
"I tolerate him, if that's what you're asking," I tease, glancing at Griffin who wobbles precariously on the gargoyle's shoulders. My heart skips a beat when he jerks, clinging to the stone man’s head again. When I turn back, I find Asmo still staring at me with those warm, entrancing eyes. "What is it?" I pat my face, wondering if Griffin had managed to stick something on it during their party preparations. "Did I have something—"
Asmo chuckles, shaking his head. The sheer sound of that laugh makes me freeze in place. "No, Starlight. It's just nice to see you smile."
My cheeks flush and I dip my head. "Well, it's nice to see you out of bed."
Griffin snorts from his perch. "Just wait until you play charades with your ghost friends. It's a blast."
Asmo's brow furrows, and as if in answer to his questioning stare, the gargoyle Griffin is sitting on tries to saypartybut fails miserably, resulting in a series of P sounds and clicking.
20
Valeria
Asmo's eyes flicker towardthe banner behind me, and his face falls into that emotionless stone. Even the gargoyles with their animated statue faces show more expression than he has right now. My stomach drops, worry settling deep, an iron weight settling on my shoulders.
No… Gods, I knew I shouldn’t have entertained this idea.
He doesn’t want a party, and I don’t blame him, but I didn’t realize how much I was looking forward to it until now. Seeing his face… I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. Judging from the dark circles beneath his eyes, I’m surprised he’s not still resting. He might’ve woken from days long slumber, but he looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.
"You’re throwing a party? For me?" His voice carries a note of surprise, mingled with a reluctance that makes me want to blurt out an apology.
I don’t, though.
Griffin’s face falls too, likely noticing the same shift in Asmo I have, but the disappointment etched in his normally bright eyes has me straightening my shoulders. Standing up tall, I plaster onmy biggest and brightest smile. Maybe I can save this—for both of them. For me.
“Yes, we’re throwing a party. Just us and the gargoyles. No company. Griffin has been preparing the keep like a madman, trying to ensure every twinkling light in this place sparkles just right for when you woke up. And now you’re here, so…” I trail off, turning in place to eye the chef. “I think it’s time you shuffle off to the kitchen and prepare that spread you talked about. All the food you and your friends desire to sniff.” I lend Griffin a hand as the gargoyle sets him down. “And you, better get to work on that punch.”
Griffin’s face doesn’t change as his eyes meet mine. He knows as much as I do that Asmo isn’t interested in a party and it guts me straight to my core. He put in all this work, but I won’t let it be wasted. That’s a hill I'll die on and I’ll save it myself if I have to.
Elves are known for their parties, though in our culture, it’s usually ball gowns and wine, and noble families meeting so the younger, available suitors can promenade. And seeing as I’m the only unmarried female born to the original families at the moment, it kept me busy. Though I enjoyed the dancing and singing and music, it’ll be nice to do so on my own terms and not because there’s a line of people waiting to talk my ears off.
It never really made sense to me, seeing as my father had the final say in who I was to marry. He never once asked if there was someone who interested me, so they should’ve been trying to swoon him, but those parties were some of the few times I was allowed to leave the left wing of the Vanderlyth castle.
I’d begun to look forward to them, and though most of the conversations were filled with lies in an attempt to make my knees weak, it was socialization—civilization—that didn’t just involve the maids and servants. Especially since, in recent years, they often got in trouble if I distracted them from their work.I didn’t want them punished for my sake and decided to leave them be.
So, my days were filled with learning magic and everything there is to know from the books in the castle library. It’s not like I was imprisoned, but I knew the likelihood of me getting to see the world was slim. If not for my father being embarrassed of me, then because my future husband would be the Elf Lord some day. He’d be the next in line and therefore, neither of us would be allowed to leave the islands. It protected the succession of our family’s position.
Those parties were the only thing I was allowed to attend for that reason alone. My brother is dead, and I was the only heir. Losing me would put our entire family's legacy at risk.
Call it what you want, but a small part of me is glad they think I’m dead. Being sealed away like some breakable doll, having to be perfect all the time to make up for my pitfalls, isn’t a life I want to live.
And since washing up on that beach, my life has been nothing but eventful. I survived with knowledge I’d learned in the library, stabbed a demon lord, helped bring back the dead…
I deserve this party. Griffin deserves this party, and Asmo might not think so, but he damn well deserves this party, too. The hell if I’m going to let all this work go to waste.
"I'm flattered, truly, but—” Asmo starts, but I hold up a hand, silencing him.
“No buts. This is happening. You can attend, or you can sleep, but this isn’t just for you. You’re just the excuse we needed. The gargoyles are alive because you brought them back. They want to celebrate that. So, let them celebrate you.”
