Chapter 4
HADRIEN
Two trespassers were bad enough. Now a third? This was intolerable.
Last night, I’d flown over the land and tried to figure out what was going on with the wards. I attempted to reinforce them with my magic. With a new arrival today, it proved that it hadn’t worked. Why not?
Did they possess an ability to pass through?
Or worse—the protective wards had fallen and my magic was waning.
So I had to stop them. And I would, as soon as sunset fell.
Who was this newcomer? As if trespassing wasn’t bad enough, she had to steal from me?
How dare she? How dare she walk onto my lands, saunter into my castle, and traipse around my garden plucking whatever she so pleased? As if she belonged here.
This land was the only thing I had left, and this courtyard garden was the heart of it. I’d poured my magic into the soil, as had generations of gargoyles before me.
If I could have moved, I would have roared. Would have launched myself from the tower and demanded answers, consequences for this violation.
But the sun held me captive, and all I could do was watch. Watch and seethe.
The girl studied herbs with careful interest, assessing them for far longer than I’d ever seen Victor spend on each. What was she doing? Could she possess some type of magic?
She cut some and disappeared inside the castle with an armful of herbs.
The worst part wasn’t the theft itself. It was what it meant.
Another trespasser had crossed my wards, even after my attempt to reinforce them. Which meant my magic was waning.
And I was running out of time.
Fury had built with each passing hour as the sun crept across the sky.
It built as the two women reappeared to eat in the courtyard with Victor and Genevieve.
These two with their soft hearts taking care of the women and their son.
I yearned to ream them out, but that was part of their nature.
Could I fault them for being who they were?
They were caretakers and, therefore, took care of the castle—and me.
The sun inched lower with agonizing slowness, at the speed of erosion.
Victor and Genevieve each looked up at me for a quick beat, pleading tolerance.
Hell. No.
One night had been enough. Last night, they’d told me they had to help the mother and her sick child. They didn’t think he’d survive if they’d turned them away.
I’d reluctantly agreed. But having an intruder who stole from me was unacceptable. The mother went inside and returned a few minutes later.
“His temperature is down.” She smiled with relief. “He still has a fever, but your elixir seems to be helping, Lilia.”
The four of them turned cheerful. Optimistic. They sat together and chatted and ate—the way I used to do with my parents and later my soldiers. All of them gone. Victor and Genevieve were the closest thing to family now, but I rarely ate with them, preferring to be alone.
And yet, that spark of life, of happiness as they dined and chatted in the courtyard together, crawled under my skin and lodged there like an irritating pebble, reminding me of days past.
“It’s getting dark out,” Genevieve said. “We should head inside.”
They all rose and carried their plates inside, leaving me alone in the coming darkness.
Finally—finally—the sun kissed the horizon.
The shift began as always: a spark rippling through my stone, followed by a rush of heat as granite gave way to flesh.
My more flexible form emerged, still gray-skinned and larger than any human.
I sucked in a breath, the first real breath since dawn, and felt the familiar ache as muscles remembered what it was to move.
Then I spread my wings.
The wind caught under the leathery membranes, and I launched myself from the tower into the gathering dusk. For a moment I was weightless, free, nothing but air and movement, invigorated by the sudden rush of blood flowing through my veins.
Then I angled toward the castle courtyard and the confrontation that waited below. Screams echoed from inside the castle.
Their shrieks echoed with satisfaction in my ears. Good, they should be terrified.
The monster was coming to make them pay.