Elyria lost her wings in this place. Maybe Grayson can get his back. I plant my feet and access my power, lowering the temperature in the air to a point where my breath frosts.
He’s startled. “You’re serious?”
“I am. You deserve to have your wings back.”
“Deserve? Hardly.” His jaw clenches. The tension in his shoulders makes him hunch a little.
I shake my head at him. If he had wings, they would curl around him right now, forming a protective shield. He doesn’t even know he’s accessing those muscles in his back. I become very stern. “Grayson Glory, I am Supreme Incorruptible and I order you to go in.”
He searches my face for a long moment as if he’s trying to see the future—does it contain new wings or death?
Then he removes his boots. He doesn’t take it one step at a time, diving straight into the water. I brace for impact. Despite what I said, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Maybe he’ll never come up again. Maybe the water will explode. Maybe I’ve been really, seriously, stupidly reckless…
His head emerges. He reaches up to slick back his hair, wiping the water off his face. I let out the breath I was holding.
He looks at me. I look at him.
We’re both waiting.
He slowly tips backward, a strange expression flooding his face. Then, in an increasingly loud shout, right before he topples backward, arms flailing, he yells, “Holy fuck! They’re heavy!”
Gold glitters beneath the water’s surface, a growing mass attached to his back. The Elven Commanders had described Grayson’s wings as dirty and filthy, but they aren’t. Not at all.
He scrambles to right himself, managing to roll to his side, paddling through the water, and finally crawling up the steps. Giant wings fall across his back and spill across the rocks as he claws his way on hands and knees to dry land. He collapses against the stones, staring side to side from one wing to the other. His wings are golden, shot through with silver swirls, glistening and strong.
“Well,” he pants, raising a hopeful eyebrow. “I guess I’ll be camouflaged against… I don’t know… the sun?”
I burst out laughing. I’m finding it very hard not to make a derogatory comment about the fact that it’s his turn to land on his hands and knees in front of me. I hold out my hand to help him stand up.
“Wait,” he says. “I can do this.”
With great concentration, he slowly rises to a knee, testing his balance, testing his strength, acclimatizing to the massive new weight across his back. Hunching forward to maintain his balance, thigh muscles bunching, he very slowly rises to a standing position, closing his eyes to help him focus.
He takes a step toward me, eyes still closed. His wings slowly rise, extending then retracting as he tests them out, his balance gradually returning, muscles working less and less hard to keep him upright.
Finally, he opens his eyes and takes another step. And another. His wings extend and curl around me. Very carefully, he draws me into a warm hug. “Thank you.”
He releases me, but I return the hug, murmuring against his chest. “Come back to the Residence now, Grayson. There are gargoyles you need to meet.”
He gives me a cautious smile. “Okay.”
“And get rid of that beard.”
“Yes, Supreme Incorruptible.”
By the time we reach the Royal Residence, the sun has broken across the horizon. I lead Grayson to the food hall, since there’s no point taking things slowly. Silence descends as soon as he appears; the gargoyles stop talking and put down their knives and forks.
At the back of the room, my warrior husband scrapes back his chair, rises to full Rath height, and strides toward us with purposeful steps, a challenge written across his face. He stops two paces away from us and considers Grayson’s wings and the row of talons around his neck.
Grayson tucks his wings tight into his sides, holding them low and non-threatening, his chin tucked slightly down. It is such a gargoyle thing to do, a gesture of respect, that the challenge fades from Baelen’s posture. Something unspoken passes between the two males.
Finally, Baelen breaks the silence. “I got the same reaction when I first arrived. It will change.” It’s not exactly a welcome, but it’s the closest that Grayson will get.
The tension leaves Grayson’s shoulders, and I shoot Baelen a grateful smile, but we haven’t made it more than a few steps when my name is called from the door.
Talia glides into the room. “Marbella—”
She freezes as soon as she sees Grayson, her eyes widening. She gasps at his wings, her own drawing back as if she’s about to take flight and escape. It caused Talia a lot of pain when Grayson broke her shield during the battle—and that was on top of knocking her unconscious on the cliff top when she was defending Llion and Liliana’s children. She opens her mouth. Shuts it again, her jaw clenching.
