“You hid him from me. Both of you.” His glare included Ghantal, who’d been making herself as unobtrusive as possible.
“We just wanted to keep the child safe,” his mother murmured. “We wanted to protect your mind.”
“Look at me,” he demanded. He cradled Loïc against his broad chest, the fledgling’s head tucked under his chin. “Do I look hurt? Do I look like I would hurthim?”
“No.” Idabel had never seen him look more powerful and protective than he did holding their son. “No, you look like his father.”
“A father who missed everything. First words. First steps. First flight attempt.” His voice cracked. “You took that from me. I would have been back insix moonswithout your treachery. I would have seen your belly swell and celebrated my son’s birth. I would have put flowers in your hair and fed you honeycomb.”
“I know.” Tears ran down her face. “I know, and I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you the moment you returned, but everyone warned against it. Said you needed to heal first.”
“What I needed was the truth. My son. My family.” He looked at Ghantal. “Not lies and manipulation from the people who claimed to love me.”
“We do love you,” Ghantal began.
“Leave.” The word was quiet but final. “You’ve done enough.”
Ghantal’s wings drooped, but she left without argument. Idabel started to reach for Loïc to take him home, but Brandt’s voice stopped her.
“No. He lives with me now.”
The words made her blood freeze. Her thoughts thawed one by one. “With you?”
He shifted Loïc gently. “You’ve had five years. I deserve the same.”
“Of course you deserve time with him.” The agreement came out strangled. “We can share. Whatever you want. Just—” She pressed her hand to her chest where panic bloomed. “Please don’t take him away entirely. I know if you go to the Council,they’ll rule in your favor. A gargoyle child should be with a gargoyle parent. But please—don’t take him away entirely. I might die.”
I might die.
Chapter 26
Brandt
The weight of his son in his arms anchored him to something he’d thought lost forever. Loïc slept with the complete trust of childhood against his battered hide. For the first time since returning to Solvantis, Brandt felt like who he’d been before. Not the broken thing the masons tinkered with, not the fury-driven creature who destroyed furniture and grabbed own his mother by the throat, but himself. A guardian. A protector. Someone with a purpose.
It would be a perfect moment if it weren’t for his betrayer on her knees in front of him.
“You fear having the one you love stripped away?” he asked her bitterly. He couldn’t look at her face, not while holding their perfect child. “You think it would be painful to have your bond with him broken?”
She flinched. “Yes. I understand my hypocrisy. I deserve your ire. But it doesn’t stop me from begging for your mercy. Don’t forget that the mate bond goes both ways. I feel its loss like a missing limb.”
“You at chose that loss. You made the decision to sever it.” Now he did meet her eyes, letting her see the depth of his torment. “I woke up one day and everything I thought I had was gone: my watch, my mate, mymind. And now I learn my son was here all along, kept from me like I was some rabid beast. Ithurts.”
“I understand the pain. I felt it too,” she cried softly, her salty human tears pattering down and making dark spots on the stones. “I feel it even now!”
“No.” The word cracked like a whip, chasing away any sympathy that threatened to grow in him. “You understand nothing of the pain I’ve endured. You had our son to hold through your grief. His smiles, his love. What did I have?”
Loïc stirred slightly, murmuring in his sleep. How strange and sweet to see a fledgling sleep at night. Brandt gentled his voice, though the internal volume of his fury blared. “You’ve had years to watch him become this remarkable creature. Years of lullabies and teaching him about the world. I have not only the pain of a broken bond, but the gaps where those memories should be, like they have beensliced out.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears tracked down her face. Even red-nosed and puffy-eyed, with her mouth drawn in a grimace, she was beautiful, somehow, and that just made him hate her more.“Please, I’m begging you, don’t take him away from me entirely. I know I deserve it, but—”
“You deserve worse.” He shifted Loïc carefully, the boy’s wings twitching in sleep. Perhaps he dreamed of flying. “You deserve to feel exactly what I feel. Every injury. Every ugly memory. Every betrayal. Every regret. Perhaps your penance should be taking my bite again.”
Her breath caught. “What?”
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed just. She should be made toendurehim. “You want to understand my pain? You’ll feel it through the mate bond.” He met her eyes to let her know how serious he was. “Then you’ll suffer exactly as I suffer.”
“Won’t that cause you more pain? To be bonded to someone you hate?”
