When Darkness Ends (Guardians of Eternity #12)(27)

She’d seen the way her sister and Roke looked at each other. The two were blatantly gaga for each other.

“Oui,” Levet readily confirmed. “She appears to be very pleased with her mate.”

Fallon nodded. She truly was happy for Sally. Even though she hadn’t known her sister when they were growing up, she sensed they could become friends if they were given the opportunity. Still, she couldn’t deny a small pang of envy.

What would it feel like to be chosen by a male because he was so deeply in love with her that he couldn’t imagine a life without her? To be consumed by his passion and to know he would never, ever stray from her bed?

“Good,” she forced herself to say.

Levet tilted his head to the side. “And what of your mate?”

She glanced down at the robe she continued to wear. It would take time to gather the courage to try on the jeans and sweater that were now neatly folded in her room.

“Chatri don’t mate,” she admitted in low tones. “We have a more practical approach to relationships.”

She heard the scratch of Levet’s claws on the floor as he moved to stand beside her. “Practical?”

“Our marriages are arranged.”

“Ah.” The tiny gargoyle heaved a sigh. “That is often the choice among gargoyle royalty as well.”

“It’s . . .” She tried to come up with a word to describe her upcoming union with Prince Magnus. Bleak. Endless. “Efficient,” she at last murmured.

“It is a suitable arrangement for some demons,” Levet slowly agreed.

“Yes.”

Fallon felt a small hand lightly stroke her arm, the comforting gesture pulling her out of her brooding thoughts.

“I sense your unhappiness, ma belle.”

“Well, this is all very unsettling,” she said, not wanting this creature’s sympathy. “I’ve never been away from my father’s palace.”

Levet gave her another pat. “You are homesick?”

“Oh no,” she breathed, trying to hide her tiny shudder at the mere thought of being whisked back to the elegant palace and her inevitable fate. “I’ve always hoped to travel to this world.” She grimaced. “Although my dreams hadn’t included spying on the Commission or being trapped with a bipolar vampire.”

Levet sighed. “Oui, bipolar vampires are usually reserved for our nightmares.” He abruptly smiled. “Thankfully we will eventually discover the culprit and you will be able to explore this world.”

Explore the world . . .

Fallon forced herself to snuff out the small spark of hope.

It would only lead to disappointment.

“My father will never allow me to remain,” she said, her voice carefully composed. “Besides, I’ll soon be marrying my prince.”

Levet’s fingers tightened on her arm, his expression filled with open sympathy. “I have learned that trying to live your life to please your family is a certain path to misery.”

There was something in his lightly accented voice that assured Fallon that he did understand the burden of family duty.

“Did your family want you to wed a gargoyle of their choosing?” she asked softly.

“Non. They wanted me dead.”

She sucked in a horrified breath. Good heavens. She thought her father was arrogant and overbearing.

At least he wasn’t homicidal.

“Oh.”

The gargoyle sent her a wistful smile. “If your father truly loves you, he will want you to be happy.”

She swallowed a bitter laugh. Sariel didn’t know the meaning of love. At least not the sort of love that humans lavished upon their children.

“Happiness is not valued among my people.”

“Then perhaps you should remain among those who do value it, hmm?” Levet murmured, heading toward the door. “Something to consider.”

Enough. Cyn slammed shut the thick book on fey history and rose to his feet.

He’d spent the past hours in his library, endlessly searching through books, manuscripts, and ancient scrolls in an effort to find hieroglyphs that would match the spell that Siljar had given him.

So far he’d found precisely nothing.

Oh. There were a lot of “almost” symbols, mostly fey in origin. But nothing that would allow him to decipher the spell.

Now he needed a break.

Grasping the scroll in one hand, he shoved himself to his feet and crossed the antique carpet to step through the door leading into the large study.

Then, pouring himself a large glass of the blood Lise had delivered earlier, he absently paced across the room to stare at the tapestry that his foster mother had made for him shortly after he’d finished building the castle.

It was a scene of a glistening white unicorn standing in the center of a flower-filled meadow with a pretty virgin kneeling at his side.

His foster mother, Erinna, had claimed he needed some reminder of purity to compensate for the debauchery that filled his lair.

Cyn grimaced as he realized that the female reminded him of Fallon.

The glorious golden hair. The delicate profile. The essence of innocence that shouted to his jaded soul with a siren’s call.

His jaw clenched, the growingly familiar jolt of heat blasting through his body.

The female was rapidly becoming an obsession. Something that hadn’t happened to him since . . .