The Knight and the Moth (The Stonewater Kingdom, #1)

by Rachel Gillig

A coin, an inkwell, an oar, a chime, and a loom stone. The sixth and final window was centered on the east wall—an enormous rose window, fixed with thousands of pieces of stained glass. Its design was different than the others, depicting no stone object, but rather a flower with five peculiar petals that, when I studied them, looked all the world like the delicate wings of a moth.

“We know Traum and its hamlets like our own five fingers. Coulson Faire, the hamlet of merchants. The scholarly city-heart—the Seacht—the hamlet of scribes. The Fervent Peaks, near the mouth of our river, the hamlet of fishers. The cosseted birch forest, the Chiming Wood, where the foresters dwell. The florid Cliffs of Bellidine, occupied by weavers.”

“The Omen who bore a stone coin, the child named the Artful Brigand. The Omen fitted with the inkwell was christened the Harried Scribe. The Omen who wielded a stone oar was called the Ardent Oarsman. The Faithful Forester carries the chime.” She pointed at the last arched window. “And the Heartsore Weaver employs her sacred loom stone.”

finger to the final window—the great rose window. “But the sixth Omen bore no stone object. It revealed nothing of itself at all, appearing only as a pale moth on tender wing. Some say it shows itself the moment you are born, others believe it comes just before you die. Which is true”—she opened her palms, like two pans of a scale—“we cannot know. We may read their signs, but it is not our place to question the gods. The moth is mercurial, distant—never to be known, even by Diviners.”

So be a good little soldier, and escort. My. Diviners.”

I love how firey she is

“Would you still be able to take pleasure, knowing I was not enjoying myself?”

King Castor’s finger, slightly wobbly, pointed once more. “The pretty one.” Rory’s eyes flitted to me. But the King’s finger, the knighthood’s collective gaze, was trained on Four.

AHHH STFU

Rory didn’t. He was waiting. When it dawned on me why, the spring was not so cold. Permission. He was waiting for me to grant it.

“Which is more intricate?” he mused. “The designs of men, trying to reach gods, or that of gods, trying to reach men?” My hammer collided with a chunk of granite. “What is either to the intricacies of women, who reach both?”

“Which one, Diviner?” Rory’s voice was deathly calm. He looked over his shoulder at me. “Which one marked up your face?”

I love this energy

“You’d like me better if you called me Rory.” “I’d like you better if you were on your back again.” He smiled. An unfamiliar heat burrowed into my face. “From throwing you and your inferior strength down, obviously.” “Loud and clear, Diviner. I hear you loud and clear.”

“I’ll likely regret saying this—but keep your hands out of my pants.”

The coin belonged to the Artful Brigand.” He withdrew the coin from his pocket, turning it slowly between his fingers. “It belonged to him right up until five days ago when we went to Castle Luricht, challenged him to his craft, and used it to kill him. As to the accusation—I’m not one of your precious gods, Diviner.” His eyes flickered in the darkness. “I’m the one who’s killing them.”

I am majorly confused

“And the sixth figure. The one with the foundling, who made the stone objects. That’s the sixth Omen. The one with no name.” My throat tightened. “The one we call the moth.” “Indeed. Though if anyone were to know her name, surely it would be you.” He paused. “She’s your abbess, after all.”

WHAT

“You want to throw me down,” Rory said, eyelids dropping as he whispered into my parted lips. “And I, prideful, disdainful, godless, want to drag you into the dirt with me.”

There was a world behind Rory’s dark eyes. It was as if he could see everything all at once when he looked at me, and it was far too much, but he wanted all of it.

don’t want him touching you like he did last night. I don’t want him within a fucking mile of you.

“Good.” Rory’s breath caught. “Just like that.”

YOOOO

“You think I don’t know that?” Rory’s voice became perilously soft. “You think I want a single scratch upon her?”

I love him sm

“What about you?” I reached out. Drew a finger up his side. “Are you still in pain?” He shivered. “Near you? Always.”

This tension is beautiful

He waited at the gate of every place he touched until I granted him entry.

The only thing that matters in this world is the effort you exact, Diviner. And you have been working harder than anyone I’ve known. So, please—don’t look to dreams, and don’t look for signs. Just look forward.

“The thing is—I think I’d do anything you asked of me.”

“I will carry them for you, Bartholomew. I will shoulder any weight you give me.”

The gargoyle is just so sweet to her

He’d never be a very good knight, but every time he looked at the woman, he had the distinct faith”—his eyes roved my face—“that things could be better than they’d been.”

“You’ve swallowed so much more of Aisling’s water than the other one. I can practically taste the spring.”

the OTHER ONE???

“I’d have come for you. I’d have killed or stolen or done any ignoble thing to see you free of that place. You are more special than you realize. I don’t even know your name”—he drew in a breath—“and I would do anything for you.”

“For the sake of my sanity, put Bartholomew out of her misery. Tell her you’re in love with her.”

Lmaoo YES

you value your friend when he fights your battles for you—when he is rogue and ruthless—you must value him when he is gentle, too. Otherwise you do not value him at all.”

It is easier, swearing ourselves to someone else’s cause than to sit with who we are without one.”

Rory’s gaze warmed my face, and I met it, wishing with a sudden intensity that he knew I was looking back at him. That my shroud was not there, between us.

Okay this is big, I feel like this is the first time she admits this

“You needn’t wear the title if it no longer fits you,” Rory murmured. “You needn’t do anything you do not wish to.”

“Please, Rory. Take it off. I want someone to see me.” I whispered against his lips. “I want it to be you.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Sybil Delling.”

“You could walk over me, Sybil Delling. Throw me down until I am dust. I don’t know what to call it, but I want it. I want you.”

People who love you for your usefulness don’t love you at all.”

“It’s hard to see who I am when I am lost in what’s expected of me.”

“When you do the right thing for the wrong reason, no one praises you. When you do the wrong thing for the right reason, everyone does, even though what is right and wrong depends entirely on the story you’re living in. And no one says they need recognition or praise or love, but we all hunger for it. We all want to be special.”

Benji’s eyes lowered to our hands together.

Benji is starting to give me a bad feeling

“To be a gargoyle…” she rasped, “is a very strange thing. The ones upon the tor do not tell the stories of who they are—indeed they hardly speak—I think, because they do not remember what it is to be human. Or maybe they are too afraid to disobey their master. But not that first one. He was a most peculiar boy. What was his name? The first gargoyle she made?” Her breaths were labored. “I saw him not two days ago upon my cliff… came to see him last night, but you frightened me away. What was his name…”

NO. WAY.

But the ones she liked best, the ones she lent her hammer and chisel to—the most obedient—she always kept locked away to make into gargoyles.”

I’d never seen him so monstrous—so befitting of his namesake. A true guardian. Not of Aisling, not of the tor. Of me.

“The Omens are gone. All that power has to go somewhere. I want you to help me carry the burden. I want you to come to Castle Luricht.” He said it simply. Like he was telling me a story. “I want you to be my queen.”

I have never hated a man as much as I do now

He didn’t say it, but I knew. He’d do anything I asked of him. So I looked at him in his fathomless eyes. Watched as they lost their light. Told him, in a voice cold as stone, “Go.”

My heart is being wrenched out of my body rn