*
Gabby lay in the dark with three layers of blankets piled on top of her. She couldn’t get warm. Her whole body shook, though she wasn’t sure if it was with nervousness, rage, or mortification. All three could sum up how she was feeling.
The tall case clock at the top of the rectory stairs rang the hour: two in the morning. She was certain no one but her was awake to hear the chimes. Nolan was supposed to have come to her room two hours ago to train, but after the debacle at dinner that evening she wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t shown.
He, Papa, and Mr. Quinn had been discussing her face, how ugly and pitiful she was. Her father had refused to recount what exactly had occurred, but he’d said the boy was insolent. Nolan had been rude and arrogant, and Carrick had interfered when Nolan had rushed at Lord Brickton. And now Nolan had a broken nose and absolutely no invitation to call on the rectory ever again.
It was a disaster.
Gabby tossed in bed, rolling to her side and propping her head on her elbow. Nolan’s bloody nose and her father’s wounded pride weren’t the only things keeping her awake. She kept seeing the mercurite-dipped darts in that horrible case in the weapons room. They’re for killing gargoyles, Rory had said. The ease with which he had said it had stolen from her the next sensible question: The Alliance kills gargoyles? Instead, she’d stared at him, dumbstruck.
The waxing gibbous moon reflected off the panes of Gabby’s single window. She had kept her curtains open, liking the silvery light. Hoping, just a bit, that Nolan would come. But she’d given up around one o’clock and had stripped herself out of her dinner dress and bodice and put on her nightgown. Maybe it was for the best that Nolan hadn’t come. If killing gargoyles was a requirement for being an Alliance member, Gabby wasn’t sure she wanted to be Alliance after all.
So of course, that was when she saw the shadow at her window.
Gabby sat upright in her bed, clutching the covers close to her. The shadowy blob split, becoming arms, a torso, and a head. Nolan. He struggled for balance on the narrow beam outside her window.
She didn’t have time to dress. Gabby pushed the blankets back and flew to the window, pulling the panes inward. Nolan was alone on the ledge, chest heaving from the climb.
“Where is Dimitrie?” Gabby whispered, remembering the gargoyle’s promise to fly Nolan up.
“It doesn’t matter. Stone blocks make for easy scaling,” Nolan answered softly, still clinging to the window frame. He raised a brow. “That doesn’t mean my arms aren’t tired.”
Gabby leaped to the side and let him come in. Nolan’s feet touched the floor and the wooden board creaked with his weight. They both cringed.
“If my father discovers you in here …,” Gabby said, closing the window.
“Haven’t you heard? Pistols at dawn have fallen out of fashion,” Nolan replied with his usual cocky grin. The moonlight showed purplish shadows under his eyes.
“If your father knew—”
“He’d break my nose again?” Nolan teased. When Gabby didn’t laugh, he sighed. “I’m sorry I’m late. I had to wait until he was too tired to rail at me any longer.”
She crossed her arms. The loose cotton against her skin made her wish she’d stayed dressed.
“In case you weren’t aware,” Gabby said, biting back a grin, “you’ve completely ruined any chance at winning my sister’s hand in marriage.”
Nolan stepped out of the moonlight and deeper into her blackened bedroom. “You know that wasn’t going to happen, lass. My da’s just grasping for ways to tie Ingrid and Grayson to the Alliance.”
“Vander is Alliance,” Gabby said, though guiltily. Ingrid would be furious if she knew Gabby was playing matchmaker.
“He’s not from a root family, like mine. He’s first-generation, and to a lot of Alliance, it makes a difference. To me, as long as Vander saves my life now and again, we’re square.”
Gabby wasn’t in the spirit for his sarcasm. She went to her bedside lamp. “I need to ask you something.”
The flare of light reached his face. She saw the bruises then. A crescent beneath each eye and one humped across the bridge of his already crooked nose. He was still startlingly handsome, though. Two black eyes only enhanced his devilish looks.
Nolan wrapped his hand around one of her bedposts and waited for her to speak.
“Have you ever killed a gargoyle?”
He lifted his chin. “Why would you ask me that?”
“I saw the mercurite-dipped weapons the Alliance keeps on hand. I know what they’re used for.”
Nolan pushed off the bedpost, his fists clenching. “Rory took you to the weapons room.”
Gabby might have felt remorse for exposing someone else, but not Rory. He was more than capable of holding his own should Nolan confront him.
“Have you?” she pressed.
“No.” There was just enough of a twinge in his voice to tell her there was more to that one-word answer.