I pull my weapon from across my back. I suddenly feel stupidly unprepared facing a gargoyle holding nothing but a wooden stick and a lamp. I reach for the lightning but it’s gone. The Storm can’t save me now.

The gargoyle’s lips curl as he hisses, “Elf!”

He thuds forward, his wings angled toward me. I backpedal as fast as I can. I need to avoid the daggers at the points of his wings as well as his fists. He swipes at me, faster than I anticipated, more agile, stepping lightly as I try to avoid his attack. I barely avoid the fist that slams into the rock beside me, cracking the surface easily like the gargoyle’s body is made of steel.

My eyes widen as his fist lands a hairsbreadth from my cheek. His hands are the size of my face. He has muscles on muscles. He’s way more lean and nimble than I anticipated. And he’s about to pin me against the rock where I won’t be able to move.

I leap into action, dropping the lamp and whipping my weapon upward, whacking the beast hard beneath his chin, followed by another three quick strikes that force him to take a step backward. That gives me just enough space to slide into the clearing where I can swing my weapon more freely.

I jab at his chest, legs, and thick neck, but the gargoyle avoids each blow, my weapon sliding harmlessly by. Even though I don’t make contact, I’m one painful step at a time closer to the way out. I need to escape back the way I came and hope the gargoyle doesn’t follow me.

I strike once more, but this time he snatches the weapon out of my hands, pulling it instead of avoiding it, bending at the same time and snapping it across his knee.

I stare in shock at the stump in my hands.

Stupid wooden weapon!

I turn to run, but the gargoyle snags me, a claw dragging against my back, ripping the top of my suit. I arch as pain rakes between my shoulders. I swallow the scream that will draw every nearby elf.

Maybe I should scream. Maybe I—

The gargoyle slams me back against the rock wall and all thought stops. He presses me into it, jagged rock edges poking into my back. The daggers at the tips of his wings slide deep into the rock beside me, cracking the surface. The edges of his wings seal against the rock face on either side of me.

I’m trapped inside a cocoon made of his steel-colored wings, the gargoyle’s face leaning down to mine. His nose is small and his chin angular like it’s carved out of stone, but his ears are pointed like mine. One of his fists pins my left shoulder. His other hand wraps around the right side of my waist. Both press me into the rock.

The creature inhales, his nostrils flaring. His breath washes over me as he inhales and exhales again.

I’m winded and pinned. I can’t move. The only thing keeping me from panicking is that he didn’t kill me on the spot when he could have. That has to be a good sign. Unless he likes to play with his prey…

I stay very still as he drops his head to mine, studying me. His nose wrinkles. “You smell like… the air before it rains. Most elves reek of flowers and perfume but you… are clouds and ice. Why is that?”

I try to breathe around the pressure of his hand on my waist pushing against the base of my ribcage. “I’m told I’m not like other elves.”

He narrows his eyes at me and snarls. “State your intentions.”

I seriously want to ask him the same thing. Is he going to kill me? “I didn’t come here to fight you or harm you. I’m here because…”

There’s a soft snuffling sound from within the cave across the clearing. The gargoyle shifts uneasily, his eyes lifting from mine, flicking left.

A baby cries. It sounds just like a newborn elf, but it isn’t.

The gargoyle snaps back to me. He thrums like a plucked chord. He strains closer to me, a growl rumbling in his throat, his daggers pushing further into the rock. “No elf has ever been this close to my children and lived as long as you have. You are testing every reserve I have.”

I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing. My mouth is completely dry and my voice is a bare whisper. “Why haven’t you killed me?”

He’s frowning hard, shaking his head. One dagger retracts and slams into the rock closer to me. One strike will shatter my chest. The daggers penetrate rock—my bones will be like butter. It’s a reflex. He wants to kill me. I don’t know what’s stopping him and I don’t think he does either.

A growl rips from his throat as he demands, “What are you?”

I find my voice, but barely. “I’m the Storm Princess.”

“Storm…” The gargoyle’s eyes widen. He sniffs my neck and his breath is oddly soft, sending shivers down my spine. Some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders. “You speak the truth.”

He presses closer and I’m suddenly aware that there’s a whole lot of male across from me right now. I’ve never seen a gargoyle in real life. The only images I have are pictures drawn by elves showing angry beasts with red eyes and dripping teeth—creatures that sit on their haunches and hunch over the bodies of dead elves. This gargoyle is nothing like that. He’s lean, powerful, and graceful. His thigh presses into mine as he continues to sniff my neck, tickling my ear with every exhale.

The reality of what he is shakes me.

That, and the fact that he’s the first living creature to touch me in seven years.

“I…” I glance at his hands. His claws are retracted and nowhere to be seen. His palms have softened against the suit protecting my shoulder and waist, becoming gentle. He withdraws them slowly, loosening his hold in degrees.

He says, “I can’t kill you.”

His wings peel away from the rock face, daggers drawing out as he steps away from me. I cling to the solid surface behind me to stay on my feet.

He sweeps his wings upward and they fold at his sides. “You will leave now.”

I nod rapidly. “Yes. I’ll go.” I stoop to retrieve the lamp, angry at the way I miss the pressure of the gargoyle’s hands on my shoulder. Angrier that I want Baelen’s hands and can’t have them. “No, wait.”

The gargoyle swings back to me, wary edges showing again.

I say, “There are other elves on this mountain tonight. They don’t know you’re here, but they’ll attack you if they see you. You need to stay out of sight.”

He frowns, drawing upright, muscles rippling without effort. “They won’t defeat me.”

“I believe you, but I can’t leave until I know you’re safe.”

His demand is swift and sharp. “Why?”

“Because I promised someone I’d make sure we didn’t start a war tonight.”

The gargoyle studies me. “Then you’ll need to douse your lamp.”

It’s still burning at the base of the rock. I’m lucky it hasn’t caused a fire, but there’s nothing much to burn around it other than rock and moss. I kill the flame and wait for my eyes to adjust.

A smile plays around the gargoyle’s mouth as he sees my reaction. My jaw drops as I realize how much I was missing because of the lamplight. Elyria spider webs glow like threads of silver across the rock inside the cave, drawing me toward it. I pause beside the gargoyle and point to the side of the opening.

“I’ll wait here until they’ve passed by and then I’ll—”

The air leaves my lungs as the gargoyle sweeps me up inside his wings. It’s warm and surprisingly comforting inside his arms, even though the contact is brief. He deposits me just as quickly inside the mouth of the cave.

He growls in my ear before he thuds to the other side of the cave, “You may as well see what you’re protecting.”

It’s impossible not to see the nest with the two small bodies inside it. One of the babies is a miniature of its father—skin like smooth, grey rock and jagged wings folded at its side. But the baby sleeping beside it has skin as soft-looking as an elf’s. In fact, it’s identical to an elf except that its ears are rounded.

It looks… human.

I spin to the gargoyle. “That’s a human baby.”

To my surprise, he laughs, closing the distance to the nest, leaning over the child. “Look closer.”

I peer at the baby, its arms and one little foot peeking from its silken blankets. Tucked neatly behind its back are gauzy wings, delicate like finely-spun silver.

“But… it’s beautiful.”

The gargoyle runs his finger across the child’s wispy hair as it stays soundly asleep. His hand is twice the size of its head. “You’ve never seen a female gargoyle.”

I shake my head, gazing at the little girl.

“Our females give birth only once and always to twins: a boy and a girl. The boy is what you recognize: skin as hard as steel, face as sharp as flint, and deadly wings.” He grins at me, shaking his wings and showing his teeth as he speaks to demonstrate his features. “But our females are more beautiful than the most beautiful of your kind. They are moonlight.” He hesitates. “Just like you are storm.”

I shake my head. “How did I not know this?”

His grin fades. “It’s easier to hate something if you think it’s ugly.”

All those pictures of vicious gargoyles… I never once saw anything that looked like the baby girl sleeping in front of me. I rest my hands on the edge of the nest. It’s built up out of rock, but covered in silken blankets. “Why are you here inside elven borders? You must know it’s dangerous.”

The gargoyle inhales sharply, the growl returning to his voice. “It’s less dangerous than my home. Crossing the border is the only way to keep my daughter safe. The threat of elves is nothing compared to…”

His head snaps up. He spins to the mouth of the cave, nostrils flaring. “An elf comes. I will kill him.”

“No, don’t. I’ll make him go away. Stay here.”

I race to the entrance, seeking the source of movement. I strain to hear anything, impressed by the gargoyle’s senses. It must have heard me traipsing through the snow for ages before I arrived.

A figure appears at the far end of the clearing holding a lamp—the opposite side to the one I arrived through. I half turn back to the gargoyle, lifting my hand. I’m not exactly sure what I’m gesturing. Definitely to stay put. Possibly goodbye. I’m not ready to leave, but it might be the only way to draw the elf away.

I take a deep breath and stride forward, leaving the cave behind, closing the distance to the newcomer as quickly as I can. “Identify yourself.”

He pauses and holds the lamp up to reveal his face. “It’s Jasper Grace, Princess. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I retort. “You’ll have to ask the Elven Command for forgiveness. We aren’t meant to cross paths.”

He drops his eyes, but lifts them again. “Possibly Princess, but I follow Commander Rath first and the Elven Command second.”

I frown and advance on him. “You do, huh? And what did Commander Rath tell you?”

“Not to let you out of my sight. I’ve failed that task for the last two hours. I won’t fail again.”

I glance backward, sensing the air shift. The gargoyle won’t tolerate the male elf’s presence any longer.

“Well, now you’ve found me. I’ve lost my lamp, so you’ll have to lead the way. Let’s go.” I stride toward Jasper, deliberately lifting my arms, making myself wide, to force him to turn back the way he came. He backpedals to avoid touching me, spins, and strides along the path, glancing back to make sure I’m following him.

I shouldn’t look back to the cave but I can’t help it. The Elyria webs are invisible again because of the lamp’s light but I imagine I can see the gargoyle’s silhouette against the far stone, quickly disappearing from view as I push forward. I rub my shoulder where he touched me. I have to shake it off. “Where are the other elves?”

“They’re all further ahead than us. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Relief floods me that the gargoyles are safe. Now I can focus on beating this trial.

As we follow the pathway between rocks, Jasper continues. “The night will determine who makes it to the peak tomorrow. Anyone who sleeps will lose.”

I hear all the questions in his voice: am I tired? Will I need to rest? How much will I slow him down?

Half the champions are only here to prove a point—to rank themselves against each other: to score points, especially those from minor Houses. The other half want the prestige that comes from sharing the power of the storm. Only a handful are actually interested in me. Or perhaps… there’s only one who is truly interested in me.

I grit my teeth against the annoyance and distrust that rises inside me as I follow Jasper along the rocky pathway. If it wasn’t for his actions earlier and Bae’s signal to him, I wouldn’t even believe him right now.

I snap, “Commander Rath may have asked you to look out for me, but that doesn’t mean he thinks I’m fragile. Don’t make that mistake, Jasper Grace.”

We come to a crossroads between pathways. Jasper holds the lamp high, studying each path before he turns to me. His jaw is set, his eyebrows drawn down. He doesn’t wear fine-spun clothing like I do—his jacket is knitted and his pants and boots are standard issue. It strikes me that he must be cold but he hasn’t said anything about it.

Without warning, he kills the light in his lantern, leaving us in darkness. A bright spot remains in my vision. I can’t see, but his voice suddenly consumes my senses.

“I know exactly who you are, Marbella Mercy. You come from the same place I do. Scrubbing floors for the major Houses. Mucking out stables, feeding their pigs, taking the brunt of their bad tempers and wayward whips. We’re supposed to accept it because we’re full of mercy, full of grace. There are many stories about the night you became the Princess, but there’s only one that I believe.”

I wait for him to tell me which story it is, but he doesn’t. As my eyes adjust, his silhouette becomes clear against the moonlight. He stands taller in the dark, shoulders back, feet planted firmly despite the uneven ground. Somehow, he’s transformed by the absence of light.

He points, his arm steady. “This is the way, but we need to run. We can’t rely on the lamp, only on our senses. There are predators in the rocks and trees, and ice will settle on us before the sun rises. We have to make it over this peak, through the valley, and then up again. Are you with me?”

I swallow my surprise. “I’m with you.”