“Lohxnahr, I’m becoming confused by you,” Danielle huffed. “What is it you want from me?”
This time, Danielle’s eyebrows furrowed so deeply that her bangs moved. She stared at the diminutive gargoyle’s eyes until her head hurt. He smiled back blissfully. While a part of Danielle wanted to lash out at her marble friend because of her anxiety about Paign, another part struggled to understand him. He was, after all, the most senior gargoyle Mystic—if, in fact, Zarentil was dead. And she, of course, was the person who had declared Zarentil overwhelmed by the hybrid. In many respects, Lohxnahr was also her mystic. He was certainly her mentor and guide. She’d been through enough with him to know that, while he seemed small physically in comparison to the other gargoyles—especially the towering Ita-Mudak and Conomorg—he was every bit as powerful. Maybe more so? she wondered. What if, somehow, things worked in reverse in the world of gargoyles—the smaller they are, the more powerful they become?
The left side of her mouth turned down as she considered him, as if for the first time. “Trust?”
“Indeed! How wonderful it is to trust!”
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