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“I can, but that secret should stay between you and me.”
I blink, almost certain I’m imagining things. “Can the others?”
He shakes his head, making stone grind like the way a pestle works herbs into a mortar. “A few, but most can’t.” Pushing off the wall, he holds out a large hand. “My name is Xren, and it’s about time we’ve been introduced.”
“Valeria,” I say, hesitating a moment before taking his hand—or rather his thumb, seeing as it’s the only part of him I can wrap my hand around—and awkwardly shaking it.
“Well, Valeria, we should probably go inside. Let the prince do his rounds and ensure the keep is safe. And should something manage to get past him, I’m sure myself and the other guards who used to look after this place, will gladly pick up a sword.” He beckons for me to step inside and with a huff, I do.
“So, you were a guard?” I ask, trying to shove away the feeling that I’m once again told to stay out of sight and out of mind while the important people do as they please.
No… This is different.I can protect them. I’m just as important staying here as they are going into the woods. No onehas shoved away into a wing of the castle because I’m useless until I’m married. I’m staying behind because I'm needed here.
“I was. I was the prince’s personal guard before…” Xren trails off and I regret bringing up something that made him think about his death.
“I’m sorry, we don’t—”
He holds up a stone hand. “Nonsense.” His lips pull into a gentle smile. “I was his guard until he snuck out to meet his mother. He never came back and the next day, the elves came. I’m glad he wasn’t here. I don’t think even his presence would’ve been enough to stop them.”
My father and his men would’ve likely killed Asmo. We don’t have prisons on our islands, and from what I understand, the bounty on Asmo’s head at that time was dead or alive. The thought alone has my stomach flipping, to know my father would’ve done such a thing—hasdone such a thing.
“I’m terribly sorry for what happened to all of you. It never should’ve and I truly hope you find justice one day.” We enter the throne room, finding most of the gargoyles gathered around that long table, bent at the waist and sniffing vigorously at the food laid out there.
“It’s been years. I’ve accepted my fate, and now—” He twirls in place, hands outstretched. “I have a second chance.” Despite the weight of his words, there's a glint of hope in his eyes that sparks something within me.
We make our way further into the throne room and I can't help but notice the subtle changes in the gargoyles as they catch sight of Xren. It’s a difference that speaks volumes about his role among them.
“They respect you,” I say, nodding to the group of gargoyles now staring at us, having forgotten about the spread before them.
“I suppose they do.” Xren chuckles, a rumbling deep enough to echo off the walls.
"They've known me for decades—centuries. We lived and died together, and that makes our ties go beyond mere loyalty."
“Why haven’t you talked to Griffin? He’s struggled for days to take care of the needs of your people. You could’ve helped him,” I say, smiling at one of the gargoyles that’s making their way toward us. I recognize her as the chef’s wife, the one who’d spoken to Asmo during the ritual. In her hand is a cup and she extends it out to me without a word.
“It’s punch,” Xren says, urging me to take it. “She says that the chef would like you to taste it. He’s made some adjustments to what Griffin prepared.”
“How do you know that?” I turn to him, scrutinizing his features.Can he read her mind?
“Yes.”His voice sounds inside my head and I gasp.
“How…”
“It was my gift, and it appears that when Asmodeus brought us back, that carried into my gargoyle form, too.” He smiles, his stone lips cracking a bit to reveal carved teeth.
I give a polite curtsey to the woman and take the cup. “Thank you, tell the chef that I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”
She bows her head, and the stone floor rattles as she returns to that long table, the others already devouring the scents of the food there again.
The moment she’s out of earshot, I turn to Xren. “So, you can translate for them?”
“I can. They might not be able to speak, but their thoughts are pure.” He watches me intently, as if he’s waiting on me to drink, but something feels off about this.
“It doesn’t explain why you didn’t help Griffin.”
He huffs, rolling his eyes as if he’s growing bored with our conversation. “If he knew, I would’ve spent my first days alive athis beck and call. Beyond that, I don’t know him, and it was far more interesting to watch him struggle.”
As I gear up for the argument I’m about to start, that things would’ve been better for him and his people had he just fessed up to his ability, a soft rustling catches my attention. Turning towards the source of the sound, I spot Griffin slipping back into the room. Asmo strides in behind him, both of their expressions grave. They’re unscathed, from what I can see, but there's tension lingering in the air. It’s a sense of urgency that shoots down my spine like a bolt of electricity.
