Page 26 of Facade

“But why? Why do any of this?” I couldn’t even form the words, my heart broken for something that happened long ago. The Fae may have been jealous or afraid of the Gargoyles regaining power, but why attack and wipe them out?

“Because they felt threatened. And rightfully so.” He straightened, clearing his throat. “No one but the Witches should hold any otherworldly power. The Gargoyles had no right to have their powers restored. Maybe if it had only been gifted to the royal family, things would have been different. But it wasn’t. That’s enough history lessons for tonight,” he said, abruptly. It was as if I’d been slapped, snapping me out of the visions of a whole realm burning to the ground.

“It’s treasonous to speak of these things, and while I understand you don’t remember the histories, talking about this will get you killed. The topic of the Gargoyles is forbidden for a reason.” His face hardened as he held his palm out, the delicate flower lying there. I took it from him, reluctantly. These beautiful foreign flowers were nothing but trophies of atrocities that should have never occurred.

“Evanee, I’m not your enemy.” His voice was softer as he looked down at me, eyes eerily bright.

“Aren’t you?” The words passed my lips before I could stop them.

“I’m not like the Fae.”

“Maybe that’s true. Maybe not. But you’re the captain of their armies. I don’t know what you are, but from where I’m standing, you’re more like them than you think.”

He stayed silent, the corners of his mouth turning down, brows furrowing. It made him look… vulnerable. I couldn’t get a read on him—he seemed sad when he talked about the Gargoyles. Yet he served the realm that had done something abominable to them.

He turned on his heel—

“Can I ask you something?” I blurted.

He paused, then faced me.

“Anything. So long as it isn’t about the Gargoyles.”

My gaze flicked to the delicate flower in my hand.

“Why did you kill him? Your… guard?” My words came out, barely above a whisper, as the image of the bloodied male drifted through my mind.

He took a step toward me and hesitated—his jaw worked a moment before he answered.

“I don’t tolerate any of my knights acting like animals,” he said gruffly, then straightened and turned back toward the steps.

“We’re the royal guard, after all, and no matter one’s station, we have to keep standards high. It’s not safe out here. Come back in,” he called over his shoulder as he retreated to the manor, leaving me behind. I cast one glance back at the petals glowing softly in the dark.

Beautiful.

Stolen.

Trapped.

Just as I was.

8

Evanee

It didn’t surprise me that even in a manor of this size with its many rooms, I still shared one with Lyra. Why couldn’t they have made her the cupbearer? Something that didn’t require her to be with me all the damn time.

Her snores echoed in the silence, setting my teeth on edge. Even my pillow did nothing to muffle the jarring snorts and choking sounds that erupted from her. A strangled cry tore from me, muffled by my pillow before I threw it aside, giving up on my effort to block the noise and flipped onto my back, sleep far out of reach.

Trickles of moonlight spilled through the room, dancing across the surfaces as Aiden’s words churned in my mind. The forbidden nature of the subject only fed my curiosity further, while bitterness over the injustice for a species I’d never come across settled over me like a shadow. Then again, what if I had come across them in the past? That possibility was haunting. What if my family had been some of the humans who had lived in the Western Realm?

For each hypothetical question that popped up, two more followed. My face scrunched as I scooped the moonflower from the bedside table and held it up, hardly able to see it in the darkened room. To have dreamt of this specific flower, I must have seen it somewhere, right? Micah’s words played back in my head—“When you arrived, I heard whispers about how you were brought here. And it wasn’t a family of rebellion.”

CRASH.

My skin prickled as I shot up—footsteps thundered past our room. Cold stone bit into my feet as I slid my foot around for the slippers Thaddeus had lent me, until my toes hit the silky material. I started for the door, then faltered, fingers dragging down my thin, white slip. There was a nightdress that had been packed for me, but the material was thick and suffocating, hanging all the way to the ground. I feared I’d drown in it and opted for this short slip instead. In hindsight, it had been a poor choice. If I were to escape, I'd have been better off in the other.

I squinted into the dark—in the farthest corner stood a slim wardrobe.