Dawn turned them to stone just as exhaustion claimed them. The remote location should have bought them a day of respite, but in the weak morning light, voices—goblin voices—pierced them like arrows.
He’d been lucky, tucked into a natural alcove that kept him mostly out of reach. But Rikard had perched on an outcropping. The goblins used ropes and hooks to rappel down the cliff face and pry him from his roost. They rocked his heavy stone form back and forth until it tipped…and fell.
The sound when Rikard landed on the rocks below, stone exploding against stone, could have been screams. Pieces scattered across the ravine. Brandt couldn’t move from his protected perch and watched helplessly while goblin warriors cheered their clever trap.
Just luck. Pure, stupid luck that he’d chosen the sheltered spot. When dusk came, he gathered what remained of his last watchmate and began the long flight home.
Under the perceptive gaze of the mason, distress flooded his senses. Walls strained, threatening to topple and unleash the beast behind them. She was not culpable for his memories, but she was complicit in trying to hide them, and every instinct in him was to smash her unconvincing expression of concern into the floor.
But then—warmth. Through the bond came Idabel’s steady, loving presence. Through the bond, she showed him their nest, with the three of them curled up together in the furs. Safety. Home.
His breathing steadied.
“You’re having an episode,” Aalis observed, those sharp eyes missing nothing. “Your mind is weakening. You need to resume treatments.”
“No.”
“Commander—”
“I saidno. I’m improving. My episodes, as you call them, are further and further apart. And my mate is helping me manage my…outbursts. Any time you or one of yourhealerstinkers with my mind, things get worse. Memories disappear.” He was aware he sounded paranoid, but he didn’t care.
“Healing manifests in complex ways.” Of course, she was ready with her platitudes and excuses. “You cannot expect us to chip away a whole wall without damaging a stone or two along the way.”
“I know what you’re trying to hide from me. The goblin younglings.” The words came out flat even though inside he was boiling. “You want me to forget that some of the hordes were children. What I don’t understand iswhy. What do you gain from keeping that secret?”
Her expression didn’t change, but her tail snapped behind her, giving away her agitation. She glanced at the moths swarming the lantern on her desk. “You’re confused. The trauma of war has warped your memories.”
She obviously cared what the moths heard, but he didn’t. “I know what I saw. Starving children with weapons too big for their hands. They cried for their mothers when we cut them down as we were ordered to do.” He loomed over her, using his height to his advantage. “I doubt you’re eager to cover up this crime yourself, so who commands you? Who is paying you to hide those memories?”
She turned away and pretended to busy herself with tidying her supplies. “I serve the Tower’s interests. I’ve saved hundreds of lives.”
He prickled at her evasive answer. “Whose interests specifically? The Zenith’s? The Council’s?”
She motioned to the guards that dogged him on every visit, and two stepped forward. They were young gargoyles who looked nervous as they sized him up. He smirked at them, flexing his fingers. He’d be happy to show them both what the remaining crumbs of the Sixth Watch could do.
“Have a seat, Commander. You’re showing signs of aggression. I suggest an immediate repair.” The mason cleared her throat impatiently when he didn’t move. Her voice grew a warning tone. “If you refuse, I’ll have to file a report about your dangerous behavior.”
He stared back at her, trying to puzzle out her motives. “Is someone paying you? Or are they threatening you?”
She stiffened slightly. “Guards!”
When they moved toward him, he snarled, warning them back. Wisely, they heeded him, pausing. “Think about what you’re doing, Aalis. I’m not the danger here.”
“Your behavior suggests otherwise. Comply with my directions, or you’ll face the gaol. It’s that simple.” Her quill quivered as she shakily wrote down a few lines on a scroll.
“What for? What is my crime here?” Menace had crept into his voice.
“Disrupting the safety of the Tower.” Her words were measured, but her tail snapped against the side of her desk, and ink blotted across her parchment. “Don’t come any closer. If you touch me, you’ll lose your wings.”
The guards edged nearer, circling him cautiously. Brandt slipped easily into his old role as a warrior, calculating odds, exits, consequences. Through the bond, he felt Idabel’s alarm.
“Don’t.” Rikard’s broken voice cut through the tension from ten paces away. “Not worth it, Commander. Walk away while you can.”
Sound advice from someone who’d lost everything to a fight he couldn’t win. Brandt raised his hands, showing empty palms.“I’m leaving. Peacefully, unless someone interferes. I will not trouble the masons’ hall again.”
Idabel could give him his tonic. He didn’t need them for anything.
He shouldered past the guards, who wisely didn’t try to stop him. But he heard Aalis’s muttered words to her assistant as she handed off the quill with trembling fingers. “Document his non-compliance in the report. Note his delusions and aggressive tendencies.”
