“Brinehelm. Southeast of here. It’s by the sea.”
The opposite direction from Meravenna. Brandt’s tail drew patterns in the dust as he considered. Through the bond, he felt Idabel’s quiet contentment as she worked, unaware of his turmoil. He made his decision.
After checking that no eavesdropping moths lingered near the candles, he leaned closer. “Our watch deploys tomorrow. I’ll put your swarm on the outer wing. After launch, you can divert from the formation and fly through Brinehelm to bond with her, then meet us in Meravenna. Don’t dally or you’ll be struck from the watch. I can only make excuses for so long.”
Evrard’s eyes widened. “You would do that?”
“We protect what’s ours.” Brandt thought of Idabel’s bite mark, still fresh on her shoulder. “Take the chance while you have it.”
The gratitude in Evrard’s weathered face was almost embarrassing. Brandt turned his attention back to his meal, but his appetite had fled. Tomorrow night. They would deploy tomorrow night, and he might not see Idabel before he left.
The feast continued around them, young gargoyles boasting about their prowess and making wagers on goblin kills. Brandt let their enthusiasm wash over him without participating. Through the bond, he felt Idabel growing tired, her emotions muted with exhaustion. He wanted to fly to her, carry her home, and tuck her into his nest where she belonged.
In another life, he would have.
Instead, he stayed until the last of his wing had eaten their fill, then dismissed them to the watchcote to ready for tomorrow’s deployment. The Tower felt too quiet as he flew to his tier, the hollow core echoing with his wingbeats.
Ghantal sat in their dining chamber, a pale-green moth perched on her shoulder like a living brooch. It gently fanned its wings as she polished his steel bracers. They gleamed in the moonlight streaming in from the balcony. She looked up as he entered, eyes as bright as the shiny metal in her hands. “I thought you might want this set for tomorrow.”
She must have heard about the deployment being moved up from her little winged spy. He nodded, heart heavy. “Those will do well. We need to talk.” He dragged over a stone stool so he could perch beside her. “You know I love you more than life itself. I owe everything to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What have you done?”
No point in delaying. “I’ve taken a mate.”
“Ooh! First I’ve heard of that!” the moth exclaimed, beating its wings so excitedly that it lifted into the air to circle around their heads.
Ghantal stopped polishing. “Who? Which family? There will be little time to hold a bonding ceremony, but with some luck, I can schedule a high-tier gallery to hold it in before you deploy.”
“No need. I have claimed her already. Her name is Idabel.” He kept his voice steady in anticipation of her disapproval. “She’s human. She works in the Tower.”
The moth gasped and giggled. “A human mate?! What a terrible joke. It’s not even funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
The silence cut deep as a chasm. Ghantal’s expression cycled through shock, disappointment, and finally settled on careful neutrality.
“Human.” She folded the polishing cloth with deliberate calm. “A keeper, you said? From one of the administrative families? I’m surprised I didn’t hear of her from the moths.”
“No. She’s a refugee from the south. Like us.” He moved closer, needing her to understand. “She’s a remarkable female. Beautiful and clever and—”
“Human.” Ghantal’s wings rustled with agitation. “You’d throw away everything we’ve built for a human?”
He balked. “I’ve thrown away nothing. What have I lost?”
“A human mate can’t secure our family’s position. Won’t give you highborn hatchlings. Won’t—” She broke off, seeing the truth in his expression. She sighed. “You love her.”
“He loves her,” the moth sighed, spiraling dizzily to the floor, where after one or two feeble fans of its iridescent wings, it expired. They never lasted long.
“That’s why I need your help.” He knelt before his mother, taking her hands. She patted them fondly as he continued. “Lookafter her while I’m gone. Help her adjust to life in the Tower. She has no family in Solvantis. She will be lonely.”
“You want me to tend your human pet?”
“I want you to protect my mate.” His voice carried enough command that Ghantal straightened. “Please, Mother. For me.”
She studied his face for a long moment, then sighed. “She’ll need more than protection. Humans know nothing of our ways. And when word spreads—”
“Teach her. Introduce her to the right families. The talk will die out eventually.”
