7. Evanee #3
He tilted his head back, studying the stars while I hungrily waited for more—every word like a piece of bread that might sustain me. Yet the small pieces weren’t enough. I wanted more.
“The Fae never attempted to inhabit those lands. They wouldn’t risk the Coven Council getting involved. But then,” he paused, looking back down and picking one of the flowers from the vine. “The Fae learned something was happening with the Gargoyles. That something was restoring in their blood.”
“What was it?”
“Powers.”
My eyes widened. Sarah never told me that.
“Thousands of years ago, every Gargoyle had a power. They each had different gifts. Some could affect the weather, some the seas… A few had even greater powers over the mind. Then one day, a sickness spread throughout their entire realm, and it was gone. Every single gift vanished.”
“What happened? Where did the sickness come from?” I whispered.
He shrugged. “The texts never said, but there was speculation it had something to do with the Fae, or even the Coven Council.”
Ice slid through my veins.
“Maybe the Council thought the Gargoyles were tipping the scales in their favor? Who’s to say?
” He sighed. “For centuries, Gargoyle monarchs searched for a way to restore powers to their kind. Not one King or Queen ever found the answer—until one day, a rumor reached the Fae King. A rumor that those powers had reentered the Gargoyle kingdom through a child. The Fae decided they wouldn’t allow the Western Realm to have powers again.
Not unless they shared their secret so that the Fae too could wield their own gifts.
But the Gargoyle King had no knowledge of those gifts in his kingdom.
The Fae King didn’t believe him, so he acted, his army striking when the Gargoyles least expected it. ”
I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, brows drawing down.
“Where did the rumor come from?”
His jaw ticked. “Whispers say there was a traitor among the Gargoyles, working for the Fae. It’s because of that traitor the war happened at all. The Gargoyles never stood a chance—the Fae had a terrible army and a secret weapon.”
“What was the weapon? Who was the traitor?” My chest felt tight as my heart thundered.
“The traitor was never revealed. It’s hard to say with the weapon. I’ve heard many theories of what the weapon could have been.” He picked at the bar beside him.
“But why? Why do any of this?” I couldn’t even form the words, my heart broken for something that happened long ago. The Fae may have been jealous or afraid of the Gargoyles regaining power, but why attack and wipe them out?
“Because they felt threatened. And rightfully so.” He straightened, clearing his throat.
“No one but the Witches should hold any otherworldly power. The Gargoyles had no right to have their powers restored. Maybe if it had only been gifted to the royal family, things would have been different. But it wasn’t.
That’s enough history lessons for tonight,” he said, abruptly.
It was as if I’d been slapped, snapping me out of the visions of a whole realm burning to the ground.
“It’s treasonous to speak of these things, and while I understand you don’t remember the histories, talking about this will get you killed.
The topic of the Gargoyles is forbidden for a reason.
” His face hardened as he held his palm out, the delicate flower lying there.
I took it from him, reluctantly. These beautiful foreign flowers were nothing but trophies of atrocities that should have never occurred.
“Evanee, I’m not your enemy.” His voice was softer as he looked down at me, eyes eerily bright.
“Aren’t you?” The words passed my lips before I could stop them.
“I’m not like the Fae.”
“Maybe that’s true. Maybe not. But you’re the captain of their armies. I don’t know what you are, but from where I’m standing, you’re more like them than you think.”
He stayed silent, the corners of his mouth turning down, brows furrowing. It made him look… vulnerable. I couldn’t get a read on him—he seemed sad when he talked about the Gargoyles. Yet he served the realm that had done something abominable to them.
He turned on his heel—
“Can I ask you something?” I blurted.
He paused, then faced me.
“Anything. So long as it isn’t about the Gargoyles.”
My gaze flicked to the delicate flower in my hand.
“Why did you kill him? Your… guard?” My words came out, barely above a whisper, as the image of the bloodied male drifted through my mind.
He took a step toward me and hesitated—his jaw worked a moment before he answered.
“I don’t tolerate any of my knights acting like animals,” he said gruffly, then straightened and turned back toward the steps.
“We’re the royal guard, after all, and no matter one’s station, we have to keep standards high. It’s not safe out here. Come back in,” he called over his shoulder as he retreated to the manor, leaving me behind. I cast one glance back at the petals glowing softly in the dark.
Beautiful.
Stolen.
Trapped.
Just as I was.