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Chapter 12

ANA

Pulse racing, Ana barely noticed the walk back to her room. Gregor's attack remained a chilling echo in her mind.

As an outlander, she stood on the precipice of two worlds, belonging to neither. Yet, her traitorous heart tugged toward the prince. Quinn had breached her defenses, awakening emotions far deeper than any fleeting flirtation.

She knew that even succumbing to Quinn's enigmatic charm wouldn't erase Gregor's menace.

Sebastian shuffled by the door after they entered, his voice timid. "My lady, is there anything you require?"

Ana's gaze landed on the oversized eyes peering out from his long locks, sparking with curiosity. "There's … something in your hair," she noted.

A shy smile tugged at Sebastian's lips. "That, my lady, is my friend, Bo." He gently extracted a fluffy ball off of his shoulder, revealing a tiny creature. "I found him caught in a trap."

"May I?" She extended her hand.

Sebastian nodded, and Ana cradled Bo in her arms. A wave of longing washed over her as she remembered her cat, Tig. The warmth of Bo's fur offered a fleeting comfort, but it couldn't erase the ache for Tig's purr.

Suddenly, Bo squirmed, clawed his way up her body, and with a surprising leap, landed on her head before gliding away, limbs spread, on its fleshy membrane, like a flying squirrel.

Sebastian chuckled nervously. "Apologies; Bo is rather shy." Bo leaped to his shoulder, but then disappeared into his hair. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thank you," Ana replied, her emotions churning.

"Then I shall inform Prince Quinn of your well-being." Sebastian bowed, leaving Ana alone with her thoughts. The warmth of Bo's fur lingered like a phantom caress, a stark contrast to the gnawing fear of Gregor's shadow.

Unable to bear the conflict, she collapsed onto the bed, squeezing her eyes shut against the light. The soft rustle of the sheets whispered upon her skin, offering a semblance of comfort. Yet the chilling echoes of Gregor's attack remained.

"Tea, Ma'am?"

Ana's head snapped over to the door. Tilda stood with a steaming cup in her hand. The aroma of spiced herbs soothed Ana's anxieties.

Ana sat up.

"You will feel better after drinkin' this." Tilda handed Ana the tea. "I added herbs to the bath pond for your soak."

"Thank you. That sounds nice." Ana sipped the beverage. Its warmth spread through her body, her tension lessening some. Yet despite the physical ease, her heart remained scared and lonely. How she wished her cat Tig was here to curl up beside her, providing the familiar comfort she longed for.

A faint tremor ran through Tilda's hands as she clasped them together. Her usually warm smile faltered, replaced by a fleeting grimace. When she finally looked at Ana, her eyes held a well of unspoken sadness.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I have some bad news." She fidgeted with her apron. "King Hamil moved up the presentation of suitors to tonight."

She hugged her knees. "I don't understand. What does that mean?" She furrowed her brows.

"Each suitor presents a gift and declares their intent to court you." Tilda pursed her lips. "He is impatient, worried about his son's failure with you."

Ana flinched at the comment.

"The king says your matin' will end Gregor's increasin' attacks." Tilda glanced down at her feet. "Wooin' starts tonight. Dygo will oversee the ceremony."

"But the moon cycle hasn't ended." Ana put down her cup on the nightstand. She hugged her knees. "Don't I—rather Quinn—still have time?" She dropped her shoulders.

"He has to compete against the others for you." Tilda looked at Ana, studying her face. "The prince demanded that he be there to safeguard you from any unwelcome advances by the suitors."

If she didn't mate with Quinn or another of her choosing, the King would claim her as his own. And Gregor was a constant threat regardless of her sacrifice. This was too soon, too forced. Caged, she had to flee. Ana stood and walked to the window. "Being the only female, Gregor won't stop after I'm mated."

The sun set, casting long shadows of the nearby orchard. An idea sparked. Those fruit trees offered cover for her to escape to get to the gnome village.

"Is there an easy way to get off the mountain on foot?" Ana turned back to the gnome.

Tilda shuffled her feet. "A child's path, but still difficult."

"If children can do it …" Ana pressed her lips together. Fear of heights still lingered… could she, would she dare?

"It is your choice, Ma'am."

A small hand clamped onto Ana's arm. "Ma'am," the gnome rasped, her voice laced with urgency, "you're safer here. The gargoyles will protect you." Her eyes clouded with distant memories. "But beyond these walls, nightmares lurk. Dragons, goblins, even worse…" Tilda shuddered, releasing Ana. "Our world harbors both beauty and terror. Unicorns and fairies dance in the glades, but shadows stir, hidin' creatures best left unseen."

Ana groaned. She had to take the chance.

She was human and not born gargoyle; could she even bear their children? She clenched her jaw in resolve. She wouldn't be a broodmare for these creatures. Selfish? Perhaps, but it was her choice.

Could Quinn assist her escape? He knew the way back. She shook her head. Loyalty to his kind would chain him.

"Can someone help me return? To where Quinn found me?" Ana pointed to the area beyond the kingdom. "A gnome who's experienced with the dangers? One who can meet me tonight at the orchard?"

Tilda's face creased with worry. "I don't agree with this, but I want you to be safe. I know someone … Be at the orchard tonight after the ceremony."

"Another favor." She chewed her lip. "I need a distraction for the guards so I can slip by them."

Tilda twisted her mouth in thought. "I have an idea," she finally said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Leave it to me."

"Thank you." Ana hugged her. The gnome's return hug provided comfort. It was an embrace not unlike the ones Kember always gave… one of a genuine friend.

After Ana loosened her grip, Tilda pulled away. With a sigh, she nodded and left.

Ana returned to the window. Her body vibrated with anticipation. Tonight, freedom awaited.

Chills prickled Ana's skin as towering gargoyles lined the hall, their heated gazes trapping her. Suffocating under their presence, she yearned for escape. Revulsion churned her stomach; fear tensed her muscles.

Dygo, the royal gothi, explained the ceremony's grueling etiquette: accept gifts, endure wooing, and then choose from tournament victors. Tilda perched on her left, offered a strained smile. "I'm here for you."

Quinn, Ana's protector, radiated menace. The first suitor, a terrified gargoyle, dared to touch her. Quinn's growl sent him fleeing.

The King's voice boomed: "Keep moving!"

The next approached with sad eyes. "I, Daxos, offer myself… and this," he stammered, dropping a chest of jewels. "This is not right. I shouldn't have done this." He stood tall, his eyes darting back and forth between Ana and Quinn. "I apologize to you both." Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed away.

The king dozed off as others followed, some pleading, some arrogant, each presenting a gift—jewelry, furs, weapons–a mountain at her feet.

A dark-haired gargoyle's present—a bird of prey—perched near Tilda. Its feathers shifted colors like a chameleon. Ana flinched as it snapped at her, its beauty tainted by aggression.

This wasn't love, just a desperate scramble for the last female. Her smile was a mask, teeth clenched behind it. Each "thank you" was a lie.

Suddenly, Guignol sauntered in, oozing confidence. The slimy gargoyle was back.

He looked her up and down. "I look forward to continuing where we left off."

A jeweled necklace dangled from his tight fist. He moved closer, and she worried her lip.

Dygo's grip on Quinn tightened.

Guignol's smirk sent shivers down her spine. He slipped the chain around her neck, his hot breath whispering, "Mine," into her ear. His eyes devoured her with unsettling intensity.

Bile burned in her throat. The icy metal mocked her with unwelcome closeness. Revulsion coursed through Ana. All she craved was escape, not the suffocating touch of him or his unwanted possession.

Quinn's hand clamped on Guignol's shoulder, a growl rumbling deep in his chest.

"You had your turn. Don't interfere," Guignol snarled.

"I'm your prince," Quinn declared, authority lacing his voice. "Respect me, and respect Ana," Quinn growled, his grip tightening around the advisor's neck.

Despite panic, a flutter stirred in her stomach at his words. He'd said her name.

"Yes, my prince," Guignol choked, fingers clawing at Quinn's hand.

"Apologize," Quinn commanded, releasing him. Guignol crumpled, gasping for air.

After a moment, he stood. "Forgive my transgression," he mumbled to Ana, his gaze fleeting to Quinn, then back to her, fists clenching. "You deserve better."

Dygo, tail wrapping around Quinn, intervened, pulling Quinn back and whispering a firm reprimand to the advisor. "Publicly mocking the prince? Foolish." He gripped Guignol‘s arm. "Maintain your station, advisor."

Guignol's gaze, filled with confusion, shifted from Dygo to Ana before he abruptly exited, slamming the door. The remaining suitors followed soon after, leaving Ana exhausted when the final gargoyle departed.

"Ma'am," Tilda hopped off her chair. "Let me take these gifts to your room."

Ana sighed, disinterested in the pile. "Thank you, Tilda."

The gnome bowed and collected the items, aided by others. Ana's gaze shifted to Quinn, his smile both courteous and sensual. "I present myself as a suitor," he announced. His words made her heart flip. "With a gift." He knelt, unveiling a stunning cuff adorned with intricate metalwork. It transcended being just a present; it was artistry.

He fastened it around her ankle. His warm hand lingered on her leg. Rising to his feet, his fingertips glided effortlessly along her skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation. "It holds a surprise," he said, his voice a caress. He leaned in close to her ear. "A hidden blade, though I pray you never need it." His words lacked any hint of romance, yet the way he spoke, the way his breath danced on her neck, sent shivers down her spine.

Ana, breathless, managed a shaky, "It's… exquisite. Thank you."

Now awake, Hamil bellowed, "Presentation complete!" He slammed his fist on the table. The sound echoed, jolting Ana. The guards ushered in the returning gargoyles, their imposing forms casting long shadows. Gnomes followed, their trays laden with food and tantalizing aromas.

Hamil's voice boomed again, "An announcement!" He stood. "The female shall spend mornings with suitors. Afternoons, a tournament to showcase their skills. And the female shall choose her most worthy champion to mate with by the next full moon. And if she doesn't, I shall take her as mine."

Ana shuddered. She didn't plan on staying long enough for that to happen.

QUINN

Quinn basked in the fire of Ana's gaze, a mix of desire and apprehension swirling within it. He played his hand expertly, aiming to captivate and cherish her. He delighted in her presence, admiring her wit, charm, and undeniable beauty.

Earlier, he barely controlled the primal urge to eliminate his rivals. Yet, he remained confident that he would ultimately win her heart. However, Guignol's newfound boldness puzzled him. His position elevated by the king merely due to his lineage.

Ana drew a deep breath, drawing his attention. He yearned to bridge the chasm, to soothe her fears and ignite passion. Desiring to reassure her, to make her feel safe and loved while also challenging her and igniting her spirit.

Chaos erupted. Gargoyles brawled, shattering plates, and flinging food. The king, lost in drunken revelry, cheered them on. Shame and disgust burned in Quinn's chest. He couldn't bear to see Ana subjected to this spectacle.

He met Ana's eyes, a silent plea for escape in her gaze. "Perhaps we should leave," he offered, his hand outstretched. Relief flickered in her eyes as she nodded. Their fingers met, a spark igniting within him.

Leading her away, he apologized for the ordeal. He paused for a moment, contemplating his next words. "Although you have not yet accepted me, I refuse to give up on my pursuit." He smiled. "If you so desire, we could seize the full potential of this evening."

At her door, he lifted her hand, his lips brushing against her soft skin in a gentle kiss. A tremor ran through her, her eyes widening.

"Please, allow me to assist you in removing this." He drew his hand over her neck, unclasping Guignol's necklace and dropping it to the ground with a clang. "I must say, that is an improvement."

"I understand all of this is difficult for you." His touch moved up her throat and lingered on her cheek. His words, laced with patience and the pledge of love, held her intense gaze. "I desire to win your affection." She leaned into his hand. "I can be patient."

With a choked "thank you," she pulled away. Quinn watched her retreat, hope flickering like a dying ember.

"Dream well." He bid her goodnight with a graceful bow and left, a silent promise hanging between them as he departed.

Alone, the lingering warmth of her touch echoed on his fingertips. He replayed the memory of her weakened defenses, the tremor under his gaze. His heart hammered in his chest. He craved her love, his patience a fragile shield against the yearning for a future intertwined with her.

A drunken bellow shattered the silence. "Quinn!" his father roared.

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