By the time she’d convinced them to leave, Loïc’s eyes were shiny and his chin was wobbling. She’d been breezy when she told him that she’d be cleaning the eyrie from now on, but inside, she was devastated.
This was exactly the treatment she’d feared. Maybe she would get used to it in time, but she didn’t want her son to get used to it.
Idabel unpacked the last bundle of Loïc’s belongings in Ghantal’s old chambers. His wooden soldiers looked out of place among the tapestries and cushions she’d left behind. His few changes of trousers looked shabby and lost in the vast wardrobe.
“Mama, look!” When she answered his call, she found Loïc standing on the balcony rail next to Brandt’s frozen form, wings spread wide to catch the early evening breeze. The sun had almost slipped beneath the horizon, and its orange glow silhouetted him with fire. His wings looked so wide. It seemed like moving into the fifth tier with more space and taller ceilings had allowed him to grow a size bigger already. “We’re so high up! I’ve never been this high before!”
He leaned out, letting the wind push him back onto his perch. He shrieked with laughter every time it happened, leaning further and further out each time.
“Be careful.” Fear spiked through her at the sight of him out beyond the edge. “You could fall.”
“I’m fine.” He teetered on the rail, making her heart stop, until his claws dug in and he righted himself. “See? Gargoyles aren’t afraid of heights.”
“Half-gargoyles with developing wings should be,” she scolded. “You should wait until your father wakes up to do that.”
He scoffed at her. “I’m brave, Mama.”
She held out her hand to help him down. “You can be brave at flying lessons, then. Show off there, where you have a net to catch you if you fall. Come now. The stew is ready.”
He took her hand and hopped off the rail, looking a little crestfallen. “It’s scarier when the others are watching. They laugh at me,” he confessed.
Oh, sprout.How she wished she could shield him from every harm. “No one can fly until they fledge. They were beginners once, too.”
Behind them, Brandt’s stone skin cracked and fell away, distracting them both. Loïc crowed, turning back. “Papa! Did you see me?”
Brandt shot Idabel an amused look above their son’s head. “I did. Your mother is right. You should wait for me before you lean into the wind like that. But I would have done the same thing at your age,” he added conspiratorially. He flashed a grin at Loïc and swung him onto his shoulders to carry him inside.
Idabel thought her heart would burst, watching them together. This was worth it…the sharp looks from other gargoyles, the cruel remarks, the keepers’ curled lips. But she would have a word with the flying instructor about the laughter.
That night, after she put Loïc to bed in his new nest in his new room, she stood awkwardly in the central chamber, unsure where she should make her own bed. In the rookery, she and Loïc had always shared a room, their beds close enough to reach their arms out and touch.
Here, Loïc had his own nest of soft furs that he’d been delighted to jump in the way she’d jumped in the haystack on her family’s farm when she was his age. It was strange to think of waking up in the morning without hearing his soft little-boy snores, but he was not so little anymore.
She should probably sleep in the other chamber. Brandt hadn’t instructed her to sleep there, but he’d said that he didn’t usually use it. Still, she didn’t want to presume until she was invited, and she didn’tmindsleeping with Loïc. There was certainly room in there.
“I can feel your worry from here,” Brandt called from inside the other room. She moved so she could see him through the doorway. He was sprawled out in the furs, his wings spread to span the whole nest, looking like a fallen god. “Does Loïc like his chamber?”
She leaned against the door frame, admiring the way the candlelight played over his bare chest and its gleaming, gray scars. “Oh...yes. He loves it.”
“Then what is the matter, little rabbit? I hear your heart skipping and running like it’s trying to escape your chest.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should sleep with Loïc or…” She bit her lip. It seemed so easy to overstep. They were mates, but in many ways they hardly knew each other. And sometimes it seemed he hated her as much as she loved him. Perhaps he didn’t want her in his space at all and only asked her to move here to better oversee her punishment.
Her thighs squeezed together at the memory of the last lesson he delivered. She wasn’t sure if it was right or wrong that she’d enjoyed it so much. “I didn’t want to presume.”
He snorted. “You’re my mate. This is your nest.” He swept one of his wings through the furs with easy grace, indicating where she should lie.
She nodded, feeling silly. “Of course. You won’t be using it anyway. Thank you.”
He gave a small, amused growl. “Oh, I’ll be using it. Just not for sleeping.”
She felt her cheeks heat up. “I wasn’t sure you’d want that.”
“You thought I wouldn’t want my mate in my nest?”
“I wasn’t sure how much you wanted to share your life with me. How much would be…normal.” Her chest felt tight as she answered. She knew she didn’t deserve to be treated like a typical wife, one who’d been loyal through thick and thin. She’d accept whatever treatment Brandt deemed appropriate, as long as he let her stay close to her son.
“You thought I’d make you sleep on the stones at my feet like a dog?” He sneered at the thought.
