My desire to talk to Argon outweighed the desire to brute-force my way through the gate, so I left the guards behind and caught up with Argon. He led me back towards the fountain.
"Why did you stop me?" I asked.
"There's no point in bullying the guards into listening to you," Argon said mildly.
I frowned. "I did not think I was bullying them."
Argon didn't turn around but I heard a smile in his voice. "I'm teasing. You're not that kind of person, Devereaux."
I wondered how he knew that, but hewasmy creator. He must have known more about me than I was aware of.
"I only wanted to leave the castle grounds," I explained.
"I know." He stopped in front of the fountain and sighed. "Trust me, I know your frustration all too well, my friend."
The moonlight bathed his black clothes in silver. My gaze landed squarely on the back of his hood. That meant Argon was quite tall, too. It had not occurred to me when Florian was here, but we dwarfed him in comparison. My sweet little Florian... I missed him terribly.
I needed to get out of here.
"Tell me why I cannot leave," I said.
Argon was quiet, but there was an air of tension around him as he gathered his thoughts.
"It's not just you. Neither of us should leave," Argon replied.
So he was like me? Or rather, since he created me, I was like him?
"Why?" I asked.
Argon slowly looked down. His back was to me so I could not see his face. He raised one arm, then in a smooth motion, ripped off a thin glove from his hand. I did not realize he wore gloves until now.
And then I saw why.
His hand was not smooth human flesh, but a hand covered in gleaming purple scales. Black talons jutted out from where fingernails should have been. Compared to a human hand, Argon's looked grotesque and strange.
Understanding dawned on me. Argon was more like me than I initially realized.
"We're monsters, Devereaux," he said. "Now do you get it?"
"We cannot leave here because we're monsters," I said quietly, the knowledge seeping into me. "Because we're abominations."
"That's right."
"But your hand," I said. "It is not like mine. Why am I different?"
Argon shrugged stiffly. "I don't know. I probably screwed something up."
Emotion clung to his words, heavy with more he wanted to say, but Argon held his tongue. His shoulders were still tense. This was a difficult conversation for him. It felt strange to see my creator this way. Argon had put a soul into stone, brought it to life, and given it human flesh—yet he was so self-deprecating.
A memory jarred me. It was when Florian asked me not to be so hard on myself. It had not occurred to me that my behavior was similar to Argon's, though it made sense given he was my creator. I knew that I did not like seeing that behavior in him, so I did not want to act that way myself.
But that was easier said than done. How could I not fall into despair knowing what I knew now? That I was a monster? Humans did not fall in love with monsters. Once, I thought I had been a human whose soul was placed into a gargoyle statue, and that love might free me.
Now I knew that was a ridiculous fantasy. I had never been human. Even in this flesh, I was notreallyhuman. I was not like the guards, or the crowds of people who visited the courtyard.
I was not like Florian.
"I have a question," I said.
