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

by Rachel Gillig

To tell a story is in some part to tell a lie, isn’t it?

“I saw purple banners beyond that bluff. Swear it on my mother.” “Might mean a bit more if you had a mother,” Three muttered.

“Good of you, by the way, telling her where to kick me.” He sucked his teeth. “My adoration for Diviners grows by the moment.”

“You are nervous. Why’s that, Diviner? Thinking of kissing me, too?”

“That,” I snapped, slipping from the saddle, “may be the worst thing you’ve said of me.” “That you know of.”

the only god of men is coin.”

“I say we bring her. She could be useful.” The gargoyle puffed his chest out with pride. “Bartholomew is a daughter of Aisling, a harbinger of gods—the most dedicated dreamer I know.” He patted my shoulder. “But no, I’m sorry to say she is not especially useful. I, on the other hand—”

“You will stay with Fig.” When the gargoyle’s bottom lip began to quiver, Rory hastily added, “She gets lonely.”

“Do you have some moral compunction against saying my name?” “Is Myndacious not your name?” “I told you the night we met to call me Rory.” “And I might have. But then we got to talking, and suddenly there was nothing about you that made me want to encourage familiarity.” “Job well done. Vomiting on my favorite boots is a surefire way to keep things formal between us.” I glared back at him. “You’re remarkably difficult to like.” “You’d like me better if you called me Rory.” “I’d like you better if you were on your back again.”

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

“Have you been stealing, gargoyle?” “Yes,” he said with delight. “I’m rather good at it. I was caught only twice. But you—you look stern. Have I behaved ignobly again by your childish standards?”

“Which lowly picket of the Seacht struck her?”

“I’d bet my oath your whole body is awake right now, aching and eager at the thought of putting me in my place.”

“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.”