For the very first time, his expression loses its chill. A hint of anger glints in his eyes and his perfect lips transform as he growls, “Most elves need to kill a living creature to use sorcery. But I was born into death. It’s in my bones. I’ve had this power from the day of my birth. Both my mother and twin sister died that day.”
My Virtuous Heartstone flares in empathy but I shut it down. There will be no pity party for this elf.
He continues. “It was her own fault. She wasn’t built to carry twins. She should have known better than to have an affair with a gargoyle.”
My eyes widen. “You’re part gargoyle?”
That would definitely explain his larger physique.
He says, “Except that unlike others, my mother didn’t keep it a secret. I’m told she was proud of her love.” He lowers his eyes to mine, his lips so close to me that his breath tickles my cheek. “You can imagine how I was treated growing up as a known half-caste.”
Jasper is part-gargoyle too, but nobody knew about it and his grandmother never shared her secret. Senturi was right when he said that elves and gargoyles don’t look kindly on gargoyles and elves falling in love with each other. Not every female elf who falls pregnant to a gargoyle will have twins—Jasper’s grandmother didn’t. Mixed race children take after their mother so it’s easy to hide their heritage. Grayson’s mother obviously didn’t take advantage of that fact—maybe she didn’t know and thought the truth would be revealed as soon as her children were born. Or maybe she didn’t want to hide it. Either way, Icanimagine growing up being mistreated. Every elven child in a minor House knows how it feels.
I say, “I’m surprised the Elven Command appointed you.”
“I’m the second natural sorcerer ever born in our history. I convinced them I was their best chance at controlling you.”
“Controlling?” I narrow my eyes. “Not killing?”
“Not yet.”
I frown, because something’s not adding up. “But you killed the talon crow today and the panther just now. If you’re a natural-born sorcerer, why did you have to do that?”
“The talon crow was a vessel—a means of speaking with you. It died because of its contact with my sorcery. And it’s true: every death gives me more power. But the panther, on the other hand… I touched it to stop it from killing something else.”
He steps back, positioning himself at my side, his arm remaining around my waist, a light touch that suddenly feels like a dead weight. The darkness lifts across the cliff. I’m horrified to discover that the shadows weren’t natural after all, that it was a trick of the light—Grayson’s trick.
Three translucent spheres float above the ground. They resemble giant, pearly globes. Two of them contain female gargoyles: one is Talia, lying on her side, unconscious. The other is Liliana, holding her babies close, her wings tucked around the little boy and girl while tears track down her cheeks. She sees me, gasps, calls out, but I can’t hear her. The final sphere contains Llion who is a ball of rage. He slams his wing daggers against the sphere. They cut through and for a moment I think he’s going to charge out of there, golden eyes blazing, but the sphere seals up as fast as he can cut it. His shout makes it out for a split second as he slits the sphere with both wing daggers and slams his fists against the side.
“Lady Storm! Run!”
Llion telling me to run is more frightening than Grayson’s constant stroking of my hip or the suddenly growling shadow panthers.
“I’m told panthers crave gargoyle blood,” Grayson murmurs. “That female is bleeding.”
Talia’s forehead oozes. She must have fought back against Grayson while Llion protected Liliana. Talia’s deep magic can only be used in the protection of others; then she is incredibly powerful. But if my heartstone power can’t defeat him, not even her deep magic could protect the others. Grayson would have taken her out first, then Llion, and last of all Liliana.
Fear churns through me. “You told me I had a month.”
“I said I’d give you a month before I started killing elves. I never said anything about gargoyles.”
I try to wrench out of Grayson’s hold. “You will not kill them!”
He smiles a challenge. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer than before. “What will you do to protect them?”
“This, for starters.” I spin, step behind him, and blast my power at the panthers.
Grayson jolts, surprising me by leaping away from me. He can’t be afraid of my power because it did nothing to him before. Then why the sudden reaction? As my power blazes across the clearing he whirls so that he’s facing me again.
Suddenly, it’s clear that it’s not the dying panthers or my power that worries him. The glimpse I caught of his back when I stepped out behind him tells me where the Mercy Heartstone is: broken into pieces and embedded in his skin all the way down the left side of his spine. What’s worse, the Rath Heartstone has met the same fate—broken into pieces and embedded in a line down the other side of his spine.
The panthers’ silver eyes and claws light up moments before my power strikes them and they crumble to dust. As the final beast dies, I snarl at Grayson. “If you didn’t want me to see the stones, you should have worn a shirt.”
His lips compress. He assesses the distance between us and doesn’t seem to like it. For the moment, he seems to have forgotten my friends and I’ll do anything to keep him distracted. Now that I know where the heartstones are, I need that golden knife to cut the tether Grayson has with them. If I have to slash the stones right out of his back, I will.
But first I need to get my friends away from Grayson as fast as I can. Then we can regroup, make the knife, and after that… we will become the hunters.
His jaw clenches. “I can’t wear anything next to the stones. They burn whatever they touch.”
