Page 48 of The Stone Curse
“Do you want to cut your hair?” Derek asked Shar.
Her father looked at Derek as if he couldn’t believe he’d dared to speak. “Excuse me?”
Derek took his time tearing his attention from Shar and fixing it on her father. Then he simply said, “You’re excused” before dropping his attention back to Shar. “Do youwantto cut your hair?”
Shar stared at him for long seconds, as if she couldn’t believe someone was asking her that question. Asking her what she wanted.
“Shar…” He gently touched one of her curls. “Do you want to cut your hair?”
“No,” Shar said softly.
“Then you shouldn’t.” A gentle smile bloomed on his lips, showcasing the tips of his canines. “I’m glad. I think it suits you this length.”
“Sharniza? What is the meaning of this?” her father demanded.
Shar held Derek’s gaze when addressing her father. “It means I’m not cutting my hair.” She smiled, and it lit up her eyes. “In fact, I plan to grow it out. I might even put a pink bow in it.” And there was the twinkle that had been absent since coming to Arcadia.
Her father’s eyes bugged. “Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t allow it. You are a warrior. A guardian, an alpha female who?—”
“Likes pink.” Shar pushed back her chair and stood, eye to eye with her sire. “Ilikepink,andheels,anddresses. I like makeup and bows and pretty, shiny things, and I amdonedenying myself. It’s enough that my nature stripped me of the chance to bear children and put me onto the frontlines of a war that I didn’t choose to fight. It’s enough that I can never be mated to my own kind. I’vegivenenough, and I’m done.”
Her father’s eyes narrowed, his lips thinning. “You would bring ridicule and shame on this family?”
“If my being happy makes you ashamed, then so be it.” She jerked her chin my way. “We should get going. Orix will be here to pick us up soon.”
She strode from the room, but I took my time pushing back my chair and standing. “I’d say it was a pleasure meeting you, but that would make me a liar. But I will give you a piece ofadvice. Rethink your priorities before you lose your daughter. Trust me, don’t leave it too late.”
I followed Derek out of the room, suddenly eager to be out from under this oppressive roof and go to a funeral.
CHAPTER 18
Gargoyles didn’t originate from this world. Our kind came from the stars. From distant planets that were now cut off to us. The oldest of our kind remembered their home and recalled the pilgrimage away from it when it died. Back then, they called the death of a goyle the long sleep, and the funeral was a farewell into dreaming. We’d adopted many of the earthly customs now, though, but the oldest of our kind remembered. At least that’s what Romi had told me.
My brother had taught me so much over the years, things I’d probably forgotten that would come back to me when the timing was right. Like now.
We stood in a circle surrounding a large platform that housed a plinth—its tip pointing at the sky and the base decorated with the effigies of grotesques.
Varsa’s stone body lay on the platform looking up at the sky.
They called it a farewell, not a funeral, and the whole process would take place out in the open, in the Meandering Garden—several beautifully kept gardens that were intersected by twin rivers that fed the lakes of Arcadia. This part of the garden was called the Central Garden, and according to Shar, this was whereall social events and important gatherings happened. Under sky and air.
Everyone wore dark colors, but every outfit had some silver in it, be it a cuff, a collar, or a scarf. Shar had loaned me a silver belt, and Palia and Ginia had silver scarves in their hair.
Palia had explained that silver was the color of mercury, which was considered a mutable yet connecting force, durable and transformative just like the gargoyle race.
A robed goyle slipped through the crowd and climbed onto the platform with Varsa.
I leaned closer to Palia. “Who’s that?”
“That’s the sleepsinger,” she whispered. “He has the power to release a goyle to eternal rest. There aren’t many of them in existence. Legend says that they are born as and when needed to maintain the cycle.”
A large gargoyle male I didn’t recognize broke away from the crowd and came to stand before the dais, hands clasped in front of him. Like several others, he was dressed in dark blue and silver, his shirt and pants loose enough to hang off his solid frame.
“Who is he?” Touron asked, his voice low.
“That’s Terinin Storm,” Orix replied. “The head of the Arcadian committee. Here in Arcadia, he is the law.”
“But he answers to the council,” Palia added.
