“The war isn’t over if the guilty are rewarded.” His stomach was still sour, but he lowered the wall against the bond before it solidified fully. He didn’t want to block her out.
She smiled as the bond reconnected. It felt like her hand slipped into his. “Then we end it properly. With justice, not vengeance.”
Inside him, the warrior who wanted blood warred with the commander who understood good strategy. Finally, slowly, the commander’s patient approach won, but only by promising the warrior that he’d get his revenge if the strategy didn’t work out. Idabel, of course, was privy to the whole thing, but his wise little mate said nothing and let him work it out for himself.
“Stay for supper,” he said to his mother, who looked pleasantly surprised to be invited. “We need to plan.”
They ate together around the long table. Loïc chattered about his lessons while the adults mapped a careful campaign in one of Ghantal’s ledgers. She made lists of evidence they needed to gather. Potential allies to recruit. Ways to protect themselves from retaliation.
“It could take moons to line everything up,” Ghantal warned. “Tomin has powerful friends now.”
“Then we take moons.” Brandt’s hand found Idabel’s knee under the table and squeezed. He hoped she could feel his gratitude for her steady calm in times like these. She was so often his anchor now. “We’ve become very good at waiting.”
Ghantal had overestimated. It only took one moon to write up the report. They hadn’t been able to find Kerec, so the three pages of tidy script were mostly Brandt’s own accounts of memories he wished weren’t true, along with sworn testimony from the gargoyles who had knowledge of Kerec and Tomin’s service in the Fifth and Seventh Watches.
“It’s done,” he told Idabel as he folded the sheets of parchment, sealing them with black wax. “The Zenith will know before dawn.”
Through their bond, he felt her relief mixed with worry. He should feel relieved, too, passing this burden on to someone with power to act. Instead, the walls still remaining in his mind seemed more impenetrable than usual, hemming in his thoughts. He took a dose of Idabel’s medicine, but for once, it didn’t help much.
“Papa! Papa, watch me!” Loïc’s voice pierced his brooding. He sighed and turned to see whatever it was his son wanted to show him.
Loïc stood on the balcony rail, wings spread wide. Before Brandt could move, he launched himself into open air. Not a practice flight, the little loops he’d been taking where he glided out from the balcony and then immediately banked back for a landing. This was a real dive that angled steeply downward.
A roar tore from Brandt’s throat as he lunged forward, following his son over the edge. He added enough momentum pushing off from the rail that he easily caught up, catching Loïc around the waist and arresting his fall. He hauled him back up to the balcony, gripping him tightly to his chest the whole way.
“That hurt, Papa,” Loïc whined when he set him down, rubbing his side.
“You could have died!” Brandt shook him by the shoulders, his terror transforming instantly to anger. “Reckless child! Your wings aren’t strong enough for a dive like that yet. Never do that again!”
“Brandt, you’re scaring him.” Idabel pulled Loïc away and crouched to examine his ribs. Brandt’s fury redirected to her without thought.
“Don’t shield him from the consequences of his actions. He needs to understand the risks! He’s a gargoyle fledgling; you’ll do him no favors by coddling him like a human.”
“He’s only five years old.” She sighed. To Loïc, she added, “Fetch the arnica. I think you’re going to bruise.” He trotted off to the wooden cabinet of drawers and tiny cupboards where she kept her herbs and tinctures. He had to stand on tiptoes to reach the arnica, and when he lifted his arms, Brandt could see the red-turning-dark marks on his side. Marks he’d put there.
Brandt staggered back.
He’d done what he’d feared most. In a panic, he’d hurt his son. He froze, feeling the trickle of crumbling mind-mortar that warned of an impending episode.
Idabel pressed a hand to her chest and turned to him, a question on her face. The instant she saw him, she stood. “Oh, my heart. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.”
“Did you see what I did to him?” He wanted to tear his hair out. He wanted to scrub away the memory of the blooming purple bruises on Loïc’s pale-gray hide. He wanted to wall it up, lock it away, and never see it again. But mind walls around unpleasant memories were why he was in this mess to begin with.
“It could have been worse if you didn’t,” Idabel reminded him. “Loïc does need to be more careful. He at least needs to ask before he dives off the rail.”
“I was fine,” Loïc chimed in stubbornly, returning with the jar of arnica salve. “I was just going to land on the third-tier platform and come right back up.”
“But you need to tell someone your plan,” his mother chided. “When you jump without warning, it frightens us.”
Brandt sank to his knees and held his arms out. Loïc curled up in his lap and let Brandt hold him while Idabel applied the arnica to his emerging bruises.
“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Idabel asked brightly when she’d finished. Brandt wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him or the patient. She stood and went to put away the salve with the clear intent of giving him a moment alone with his son.
Brandt kissed the top of Loïc’s head, not ready to release him just yet. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, Lo. I was just trying to keep you safe. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, too.”
“And the shaking,” Loïc broke in. “That was a little scary.”
“And the shaking,” he agreed, his heart cracking open. “My mind is broken still. I’m trying to put the pieces together, butsometimes they don’t fit together perfectly, and I do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing. I’m not sure they are ever going to fit the way they used to. I know it’s hard to be around me, and”—he swallowed hard—”I understand if you and your mother don’t feel safe living with me right now.”
