Page 9 of Claimed By Stone
But as I looked out the window, I saw the sun rising in the east. If my brother were truly emerging tomorrow, I needed to be prepared. His chambers would need to be aired out and readied. When he and Callie returned from the human realm, they went straight to the mating caves.
And the feast... even still over a week away, we would need to begin preparations immediately.
Even as my mind tallied the growing to-do list, it kept drifting back to the statue beside me—and the single, impossibly translated line of Godling before me.
I closed my eyes tight and drew in a slow, steady breath. Then I stood, readying myself to face the day’s work.
Part of me considered sending a rider to fetch Frema. But she’d said she would return by Yule, and she was in the field training orcs who’d awakened to newfound strength in the wake of magic’s return. No, I’d have to do this one on my own.
By the time the sun dipped behind the mountains and the long shadows stretched across the great hall, I was exhausted. Meetings. Preparations. Questions from the council. Every moment I wasn't needed, my thoughts drifted back here—to her.
Toit, I should say. A statue. A relic. A trick of my dreaming mind.
Still, I hurried through the final duties of the day like a soldier racing toward a familiar battlefield. My feet knew the way even if I pretended I wasn’t rushing.
And now, finally, back in the quiet of my study, I let the mask slip.
The statue remained where she had always been, unchanged. Awe still carved across her features, her hand still slightly raised as if she’d been about to reach for something—someone.
I crossed the room slowly, as though afraid a single sudden movement would undo whatever magic I thought I’d seen. My gaze flicked to the scroll on the desk. The translation was still there, each line of elegant script undeniably mine... and yet I don't know how.
I hadn’t written alone last night. Iknewthat.
But knowing and believing were entirely different beasts.
I sank into my chair, elbows on my knees, and stared at her. Waiting. Hoping. Dreading.
What if it reallyhadbeen a dream?
It must have been.
As I sat lost in thought, my gaze shifted, being pulled to the crystal embedded in the table below me. It shone brightly… too brightly. It was as if it was catching the rays of the sun, only the sun had set long ago.
My heart leapt, beating hard against my ribs. The magic was doing something. Changing. Stirring. Could it be?
As I turned, my eyes drew in the beautiful statue beside me, just in time to see the rise and fall of her breath. Slow. Shallow. Alive.
I froze. Terrified that any slight movement might shatter the moment. Might undo it. The statue was breathing …Shewas breathing.
I had no explanation for any of this. I was not sure if one existed, but I needed her to be real in a way I couldn't yet articulate.
Finally, as I begged my eyes not to be deceiving me, she turned to me, her eyes open. The moment our gazes locked, it felt like the earth shifted beneath me. She was here. It wasn't a dream.
"Hello," I said, softly, barely daring to breathe.
The corner of her mouth lifted. "Hello."
"How is this possible?" I asked, lips parted in awe—not just of the magic, but ofher.
She was… awesome, in the most genuine, most sacred sense of the word.
"I don't know."
"What is your name?" The question tore out of me, desperate for a morsel—any crumb of who she was, or how she came to be, or why I feltthis.
Her head tilted slightly, a small crease forming between her brows. "I don't know."
"You don't know your name?"
