I still did not understand what Argon's mistake had to do with me. "By infusing me with a soul?"
"Partially. But more than that, I'm testing a hypothesis. Not to sound callous, but you're an experiment of sorts, Devereaux." He smiled. "That sounds worse than it actually is. You know, I've grown fond of you. You're notjustan experiment to me. I think of you as a friend. Maybe the only one I have."
Perhaps I should have bristled at his overly familiar words, but something about Argon's self-deprecating tone made me feel sympathy for him. He reminded me of myself, which made sense considering my origins. If what he said was true, I was part of him and he was part of me.
"All right. Then what is the purpose of my existence as an experiment?" A worrying thought came to me. "Do you intend on disposing of me upon the completion of your work?"
My comment took him aback. He let out a surprised laugh. "Gods, no. What a peculiar mind you have, Devereaux. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised..."
What did he mean by that?
"It's quite the opposite, actually. If the experiment succeeds, you'll have a good life."
"And if it fails?" I asked.
His smile turned grim once more. "Then you and I are in trouble, my friend."
I wished Argon would not speak in riddles, but despite this, I was growing somewhat fond of him. Maybe because he filled the void of loneliness inside me upon Florian's departure. Argon could never, ever replace Florian, but he was still a human companion. Talking with him was better than hours of silence.
"I want to know more," I said.
He chuckled. "Don't we all? Isn't the thirst for knowledge the source of all our problems, really?"
He sounded more like he was speaking to the universe than to me. I did not think he actually expected a response.
"What is your experiment?" I asked.
Argon's yellow eyes glinted in the shadows. "To see if true love can break a curse. More specifically, the kiss from one's fated mate. If such a thing exists."
I put a hand to my forehead, feeling an ache coming on. "I... Yes, that is right. I do not know why or how, but I know this."
"You do? Interesting. I wonder if I infused that knowledge into you upon your creation..."
"Then it is true? That my gargoyle body is a curse?" I demanded.
"It's certainly not a blessing," Argon said wryly.
My worldview slowly shifted to accept this new information. But that did not solve any of my problems. It only confirmed my greatest fear—I would never be able to escape my stony prison, because nobody would ever fall in love with me. Nobody would have a gargoyle for a fated mate.
Pain stabbed my heart, overwhelming me with despair. Argon's words did nothing to soothe me. They only made it worse because now I knew why I was created. I was a pawn for him, and a useless one at that. Was it not obvious to him that I could never carry out his intended purpose? That knowing his success hinged on me, we were both doomed?
"I wish you had never created me!" I cried to Argon, advancing closer to him. "Why would you do this? Every day is torture knowing that no human in their right mind would ever fall in love with me!"
Argon flinched. I did not know if it was because of my words or my presence so close to him. Was even my own creator afraid of me?
My despair was too deep to keep composed. I reached for him, grabbing his shoulders. Argon froze under my grip. His body felt unusually cold beneath his cloak, even to my ever-cool hands. But in the moment, it was not enough to stop my frenzy.
"Why, Argon?" I demanded.
Argon did not meet my gaze. "I'm sorry, Devereaux. I really am. If I could undo all the mistakes in my life, neither of us would be in this mess. But I can't change the past. All we can do is hope for a brighter future."
That phrase hit me like a flash of lightning. I gasped and jerked away from Argon. Those were the same words Florian had spoken when he made a wish on the fountain.
Florian... He could never reciprocate these feelings I had towards him. How could he? I was a cursed gargoyle, and he was a wonderful flesh-and-blood human. His soul was beautiful and kind—mine was a fake.
Was it not?
I faced Argon. His posture was stiff, like my touching him had upset him. But I had more pressing issues on my mind than apologizing.
