Capture the Crown (Gargoyle Queen #1) -Jennifer Estep Page 0,40

instant, my fingertips were tingling, my toes were curling, and my heart was hammering. I recognized the sensation.

Anticipation—although of what, I couldn’t say.

The seconds ticked by, softly counted out by the cuckoo clock on the wall, but neither one of us looked away. Then Leonidas bowed, still keeping his eyes on mine.

Thank you, his voice whispered in my mind.

Before I could send a thought back, Prince Leonidas Morricone straightened up, turned around, and vanished into the woods.

My mortal enemy was gone.

Chapter Eight

I stood at the window, clutching my dagger and scanning the area, but no one appeared. Leonidas had left, and Captain Wexel hadn’t tracked him here.

Welcome developments, but disappointment still filled me. I told myself it was because I hadn’t gotten any information out of Leonidas about the tearstone, and not because he had been going to leave without saying goodbye. Yes, the lack of progress in my spy mission was the reason for my sudden deflation, and not my curiosity about the Morricone prince.

A rueful snort escaped my lips. I hadn’t been a very good liar as a child, and I wasn’t particularly good at it as an adult either, at least when it came to deceiving myself.

Still, Leonidas was gone, and I had to be at work soon, so I donned a fresh set of coveralls, then made hot oatmeal topped with dried figs and toasted slivered almonds and dusted with cinnamon and chocolate flakes. I was eating my breakfast when a knock sounded on the door and a familiar presence filled my mind.

I waved my hand and unlocked the door. “It’s open!”

Topacia came inside. Her hand curled around her sword, and her hazel gaze darted around the kitchen before scanning the living room beyond. “Where’s your patient?”

“Gone. He snuck out early this morning.”

She relaxed. “Good. He didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Nope. He was actually rather . . . pleasant.”

That was the most benign word I could think of to describe Leonidas. I certainly couldn’t admit that he was intriguing. Infuriating. Intelligent. Cold. Powerful. Muscled. Handsome. My face heated at the unwanted thoughts, and I shoved another bite of oatmeal into my mouth.

“Pleasant for a Mortan means that they’ll stab you face-to-face instead of burying their sword in your back,” Topacia muttered.

There was no point arguing with her. Leonidas might have accused me of thinking that all Mortans were as evil as evil could be, especially the Morricones, but Topacia firmly believed it.

Given the myriad schemes Queen Maeven had hatched against my family over the years, I couldn’t disagree with my friend, although Leonidas seemed to be the exception to the rule, despite how he had hurt me when we were children. Either way, he was gone, and I would probably never see him again. Regret pinched my heart, but I pushed the feeling aside. The sensation was probably just gas.

I fixed Topacia some oatmeal. While she ate, I reached out with my magic, scanning the woods again, but I still didn’t sense anyone nearby. I stretched out a little farther with my power, but Lyra’s faint, feathery presence had also vanished. Of course it had. Leonidas would never leave his beloved strix behind, and he certainly wasn’t going to walk back to Morta.

Lyra’s presence might be gone, but another one filled my mind, like a rock rolling steadily in this direction. A few seconds later, another knock sounded on the door, although this sound was more of a sharp thwack, like an arrow banging off the wood. I grinned, went over, and opened the door.

Grimley was sitting on the stoop, perched on his front paws like a cat, with his long tail lashing from side to side. I scratched the top of his head, right in between his curved horns.

“Thank you for knocking this time.”

“Stupid doors,” he grumbled. “They’re only fun to crash through.”

I laughed. Grimley had barreled through his fair share of doors, much to the consternation of the wood, glass, and metalstone masters at Glitnir, who kept having to replace the ones the gargoyle demolished, along with windows, flagstones, and entire sections of the palace walls.

Grimley sauntered inside. I had stoked the fire before breakfast, and within seconds, he was stretched out on the rug, soaking up the heat from the flames.

I shut the door, then sat down across from Topacia at the kitchen table. “Did you find out anything about Wexel?”

“Not really,” she replied. “I was holed up in a tavern waiting for the storm to pass. Someone told me where the Mortans