“Yes, thank you.”
As I touch the ground, he kisses my forehead and disappears into the darkness. He won’t go far, but he won’t listen in. I cross the distance to the proud female. “Indira.”
The wind whips at her hair and coat as she stares into the distance. “Erit lied to me.”
She turns to me, her eyes sparkling with surprising tears. “He told me that he made his bed wherever he found it, but the truth is that he built a home for me. He planned to come back for me but Howl threw him in prison before he could. It’s in a valley not far from here. It’s beautiful there, Marbella. Just like a picture. Everything I could have dreamed of. Everything… that I could want to raise a family.”
She presses both her hands flat against her stomach, tears dripping down her cheeks. The way she splays her fingers out across her body and what she said about raising a family make my eyes widen. “Are you…?”
“I am.”
“But… you only… this morning and… it’s only been hours… how can you tell so soon?”
She laughs out loud. “It only takes once.” Then she shrugs, giving me a crazy-happy smile. “Gargoyle females know straight away. We only experience pregnancy one time so we get to enjoy every minute of it. It’s the last part that’s hard: giving birth to twins with wings.”
I shake my head in amazement. Elven females don’t realize they’re pregnant for weeks. Our cycles are six weeks long and there aren’t any physical signs until our next cycle simply never shows up. I break into a grin. “Indira, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!”
I throw my arms around her, surprising her with one ginormous hug. But as soon as I let her go, fresh tears spill down her cheeks.
“I wanted to stay with Erit in that beautiful valley and have our babies and pretend that everything is fine.” She levels her gaze with mine, her eyes glossy with tears that she wipes away. “But we both know things are only going to get worse.”
I exhale a long breath. “Gretel told you about the threat.”
“She slipped me a message before we left. I asked Erit to bring me here so I could speak with you about the future of the Grievous Clan. I didn’t tell him the real reason. I won’t say anything until you decide it’s time.”
She steps right into my space, her expression hardening. “Gargoyles have long feared retaliation for what the Storm did to the elves. Howl may have abused us, but the Elven Command will wipe us out.”
“I won’t let that happen, Indira.”
She asks, “You have a plan?”
“I do, but it comes with risks. I won’t make anyone come with me who doesn’t want to.”
“Go with you?” Her shoulders draw back. “You’re taking the fight to the elves.”
Is that actually admiration on her face? “I plan to.”
“When do we leave?”
I laugh. She looks ready to come with me right away. “I’m waiting for Llion to get back because I need a weapon only he can make.” Llion created the golden dagger that I used to sever the connection between Baelen and me. The dagger was coated in shimmer beetle husks—the toughest substance in our world, tougher even than a gargoyle’s wing daggers. Llion is the only gargoyle skilled enough to make it for me. I need it so I can sever whatever connection Grayson Glory has with the Rath and Mercy Heartstones.
“Grievous Llion? I haven’t seen him for many years. Other than Erit, he was the only respectful male in my life.”
“You’re cousins, right?”
She links her arm with mine. “Llion got away from our clan when we were kids. He made his way to the palace and convinced the King to employ him. We heard about it all the way back on Mount Grievous so my aunt and uncle couldn’t claim that he had died.”
We make it halfway to the Residence before we reach the spot where Baelen waits. He lifts himself away from a tree at the side of the path, but a frown quickly drops over his features, his jade-green eyes narrowing at Indira. “I know you.”
She suddenly appears sheepish, tugging her coat a little closer around herself. She’s taller than me, but still has to tip her head back to meet his eyes. “Greetings, Baelen Rath. Uh… I may have shot an arrow at you once.”
“Thatwasyou.”
She glances side to side as if looking for an escape route, her shoulders rising and her mouth drawing into a hopeful smile. “So I guess… I’m sorry?”
“How about ‘thank you.’”
She clears her throat. “That too.”
