Gabby clenched her fists, remembering her first encounter with this arrogant Scot. The way he’d challenged her had driven her mad. Despite the fact that she’d fallen in love with him, it seemed little else had changed.
“The gargoyles must know Axia’s return is imminent. Given the choice between two targets, I’m quite certain the gargoyles would focus on her and not me,” she said.
“You’re underestimating their world and their rules, Gabby. If you’re going to be Alliance, you have to start thinking like a hunter and not like prey.”
“I am thinking like a hunter, and my prey is Axia. You want me to be afraid. Tell me something—are good Alliance hunters afraid?”
“There’s a difference between bravery and stupidity.”
Gabby widened her eyes at the slap of insult just as Carver, in his human form, entered the laboratory. He looked pointedly at Hugh.
“I need to speak to you,” Carver said. The doyen made a short bow and followed his gargoyle into the study without question.
“Gabby’s got a point,” Rory said, continuing the argument once Carver and Hugh had exited the room. “And she isnae as defenseless as ye might think. She’s got decent skill wi’ a sword.”
The compliment buoyed Gabby, if only for a moment. Nolan turned toward his cousin and crossed his arms over his chest. He took his time assessing Rory. He lifted his chin and tipped his head just so.
“You’ve been training her.”
“Aye,” Rory answered, that one syllable drenched with challenge.
Nolan took a step forward. “Without my consent.”
I wanted to be the one to train you. Gabby recalled what Nolan had said to her after he’d figured out that Chelle had also given her a few lessons in demon hunting. He hadn’t been upset with Chelle, but right now he looked ready to draw the sword resting in his waist scabbard.
“She can fight,” Rory said, glossing over Nolan’s last statement. No, he hadn’t asked for his consent. That word refueled Gabby’s ire, and fast.
“And now, after a month of unauthorized training and her so-called decent skill, you’re all for tossing her to the gargoyles. What entertainment. We’ll just go along and see how well she does. I’ll pack the picnic,” Nolan bit off.
He’d closed in on Rory and now stood so close he had to look up in order to meet his cousin’s stony glare.
“Are you quite finished insulting me?” Gabby asked. “I don’t need your consent to train, Nolan, and while I’m certainly not under any illusion that I’m skilled enough to fight a gargoyle, I’d appreciate a little more faith.”
Nolan looked over his shoulder, then lowered his eyes to the floor. “I’m not trying to insult you. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
Safe as a porcelain bowl wrapped in cotton linen and boxed up. It would be a lie to say she didn’t want to feel safe, or that Nolan’s worry didn’t leave her feeling warm and even a bit precious. But it also left her feeling trapped, like an ornamental bird kept in a cage, its wings clipped.
“I can’t stay in London,” she said. “I should be in Paris. I should be with Ingrid and Grayson and Mama, and—” She stopped short of saying and you. Hugh and Carver had reentered the laboratory, and besides, Nolan was making her so furious she couldn’t bring herself to pay him a compliment.
Nolan ran a hand through his hair, scrubbing at his scalp. “I’m leaving.”
Hugh held up his hand. “If I might take a moment to—”
Nolan brushed past him, through the laboratory door and out of sight.
Hugh cleared his throat before turning toward Gabby and Rory instead. “Carver’s been out this evening. He brings a rumor that something is happening in Paris.”
Gabby tried to listen to Hugh, but her ears kept hold of the sound of Nolan’s steps fading through the study.
“In Paris?” she repeated, distracted by Nolan’s retreat into the hallway.
“What is it?” Rory asked.
“One of the Dispossessed here received a telegram,” Hugh began to explain, but Gabby got too bungled up in the comedic image of a gargoyle tapping at a telegraph with its talons and then the sound of the front door slamming to hear what Hugh said next.
He’ll come back, she told herself. He was just going out for another walk.
It was only then that she realized he might not come back. Was he leaving Hugh’s home—or leaving London altogether?
Without a word, Gabby started for the laboratory door. She’d been walking at first, but in the study she picked up her pace, driven by the sharp fear of losing Nolan again. Perhaps for good. He couldn’t go back to Paris. He was on the run from the Alliance. He could so easily slip away and stay away, and that thought had Gabby all-out running down the corridor toward the foyer. She couldn’t let him go. Gabby reached for the front door, her breath stuck in her lungs, and flung it wide with every intention of shouting Nolan’s name from the front steps for all of Belgrave Square to hear, if necessary.