Sorceress Rising (A Gargoyle and Sorceress Tale Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

inches away.
    Lillian held her
ground. “I’m not questioning your prowess as a protector. I’m questioning your
ability to find a peaceful resolution regarding humans.”
    “Then you need
not worry.” Warm breath puffed across her cheeks. When he smiled, she got a
worm’s eye view of his very white fangs. His deep voice rumbled in her ears
when he spoke. “I sense no humans near us. There are a few within an hour’s
walk, but even if they stumble upon us, I promise to deal with them ‘gently’.
As for being seen from above, I have made it impossible.”
    Standing toe to
toe, with his bulk dwarfing her, his massive wings curling to partially enfold
her in their velvet expanse, it would have been easy to back down to his
passive aggressive stance. Instead, she tilted her head so she could meet his
gaze and asked, “Care to elaborate on the last statement?”
    He drew a deep
breath which expanded his chest and leaned closer until they were nose to nose.
“Not now.”
    Grumpy , she thought, now who needs an attitude adjustment? “If
you’re not going to budge, why are we wasting time with this staring contest?”
Lillian tossed back, and then placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. He jumped
back, startled, and she hooted. “You moved, points for me.”
    Gregory huffed,
folded his wings tight, and stormed off toward Whitethorn.
    “Spoil sport,”
she called out to his retreating back. Grinning so hard it hurt, she followed
in his wake. While she might not possess great powers like she’d supposedly
once commanded, still she had a purpose—keeping her beloved gargoyle humble.
And possibly guiding him through all the pitfalls he might encounter in the
modern world he so despised.
    Lillian hung
back while Gregory and Whitethorn exchanged formal greetings. Even when she’d
still been an Avatar to a Goddess and possessed the title of Mother’s
Sorceress, somehow she doubted decisions involving war, weapon-making, and
troop placements would have fallen to her. Those details seemed more in line
with Gregory’s overprotective personality.
    “The pooka said
you wished to speak with me, Lord Gargoyle.” The sidhe leader’s words were
accompanied by a half bow, the move more graceful than anything executed on a
ballroom floor. Without the shimmering silver locks, pointed ears, and dark
grey brocade tunic, he’d look perfectly at home on one of those polished floors
as well.
    She had yet to
meet a Fae lacking in elegance—well, excluding the times she glanced in a mirror.
    Maybe
elegance sometimes skips generations like other genetic traits?
    Gregory’s
rumbling voice drew her back to the conversation at hand. “Gran informed me
while Lillian and I rested and healed for three months, we received some
unusual ‘guests’. We must conceive of a solution to our present problems.”
    “A wise idea.
But not here where we are so exposed.” Whitethorn drew back deeper into the
shadows, gesturing for Lillian and Gregory to follow. “If Vivian told you of
our visitors, she must have also warned you of the increased numbers of humans
roaming our lands. It isn’t safe to remain in the open.”
    Gregory’s tail
twitched at the word ‘humans’, but he mellowed enough to follow Whitethorn
without argument, for which Lillian was grateful. Perhaps she had an ally in
the sidhe leader.
    Deeper into the
woods, they finally stopped, and she perched on a fallen tree trunk. Gregory
and Whitethorn both turned to look out beyond their circle, toward a small game
trail to the right of where Lillian sat. She glanced in the same direction but
saw nothing. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what they found so
interesting when she heard the soft clomp of hooves. Seconds later the unicorn
galloped down the path in their direction, Greenborrow clinging to his back. As
soon as the unicorn halted, Greenborrow tumbled off.
    A few choice
words in an unknown language colored the small clearing. More disheveled than
normal, Greenborrow