“He’s not ready yet,” Idabel said as she opened the door to let her in. “He still needs to eat.”
But Ghantal’s expression stopped her cold. The older gargoyle’s face was haggard, her usual composure cracked. She looked like she hadn’t rested at all, either. For that matter, she was still wearing the clothing she’d had on last night.
“Eat with us?” she offered, adding another bowl and spoon to the table.
Ghantal nodded, sinking gratefully onto a stool. She tucked her wings neatly behind her and rubbed her forehead between her elegant horns, her shoulders slumped.
“Anything I can do for you?” It wasn’t like Ghantal to mope and sigh or even accept an invitation to dine with them. Something was really wrong. She could guess what, given the mood she’d left Brandt in last night.
Ghantal looked up. “Can you come to lessons today?”
Idabel frowned as she salted the contents of her cookpot. Ghantal usually preferred not to associate with her in public, for obvious reasons. “Why?”
“We have to talk. Preferably while little ears are occupied.” She glanced toward the bedroom, where the sounds of Loïc playing drifted out. “It’s important.”
Idabel’s stomach dropped. “Did something happen to Brandt? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine, don’t worry.” Ghantal’s wings rustled with agitation. “Just come if you can.”
An hour later, they stood on the flying platform watching Loïc attempt glides between the practice posts. He managed three wingbeats before landing hard, but his triumphant grin made it seem like he’d conquered the world.
“I told him,” Ghantal said quietly, her eyes fixed on her grandchild.
Idabel’s knees nearly buckled. “About Loïc?”
Ghantal gave a single nod.
Relief and dread tangled in Idabel’s chest. “How did he react?”
“I’m sure you can guess.” Ghantal watched Loïc climb back to the launch point, determined despite his struggles. “He’s furious.”
“At me?”
“At all of Tael-Nost, I think.” Ghantal’s laugh was bitter. “At you for the betrayal. At me for helping you break the mate bond. At both of us for keeping Loïc secret for him. At the world for stealing five years of his son’s life from him.”
Idabel watched Loïc spread his wings, gray-gold in the lamplight. So like his father’s. “I can’t blame him. I’d feel the same way. We’ve had six years to process our anger about everything that has happened. He’s had one night.”
“He threw me out.” Ghantal’s voice was cool on the surface, but there was a quaver underneath. “Told me never to return.”
“Oh, Ghantal, I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
“He did. I know my son. He most certainly meant it.” She turned to face Idabel directly. “The reason I wanted to talk to you is because I’d like to bring Loïc to meet him tonight.”
Idabel’s heart stumbled over itself. “Is he stable enough?”
“He would never hurt his son. Whatever else has broken in him, that protective instinct remains. Seeing Loïc might be the only thing that can calm him now. And I think we owe him the chance.” Ghantal seemed certain, but Idabel wasn’t. The feral hatred in Brandt’s gaze last night made her doubt everything she knew about him.
She did owe him a chance, though. She took a deep breath and blew it out in a rush. “Okay. But I need to be there.”
“Of course.” Ghantal’s expression softened slightly with a mother’s compassion. “The boy deserves to know his father. And Brandt... he deserves whatever pieces of fatherhood we can give him.”
Loïc managed five wingbeats on his next attempt, earning cheers from André. His joy was infectious, and Idabel found herself smiling despite everything as she watched him climb triumphantly out of the net.
“Mama! Did you see? I flew! Really flew! All the way to the second post!”
“You did, sweetheart. I’m so proud.”
He ran to them across the platform, wings dragging with exhaustion but eyes bright. “Ghantmère, did you see?”
