Born of Stone

Dedication

This book is dedicated to every fan of fantasy and the many genres of romance, as well as the many wonderful authors of these genres. Building worlds is one of the main reasons I write. Thank you for stepping into one of my worlds for a little while.

Chapter One

Astrid trembled in fear as she approached the large stone table. Around its massive frame sat nine of the twelve brothers, so deep in conversation they took no notice of her. She silently stepped up to the head of the table and filled Master Kephas’s flask with red wine. He continued speaking as if she didn’t exist, waving his arms in emphasis. One meaty paw neared and she ducked, crouching low while continuing around the table. They spoke mostly in their odd language with an English word thrown in here and there. Astrid didn’t try to decipher any of it. She simply wanted to fill their flasks and escape again, unnoticed and unharmed.

So far, she’d remained remarkably untouched since being dragged into the castle. Whispered tales of other peasants being taken in for service only to never emerge again filled her nightmares. But she’d been ignored overall. The other humans working in the kitchen kept to themselves, and Astrid had long ago learned not to ask questions. She simply did what Simon bade quickly and quietly.

As if conjured from her thoughts, Simon appeared in the doorway and motioned to her. He wasn’t a big man, but tall and wiry. He reminded Astrid of a snake with the face of a rat. He’d been cruel since her first day and hadn’t improved one bit since. She rushed over, careful not to spill a single drop of wine.

“What’s taking so long? Stupid girl. Hurry up and put down the wine. It’s time to serve the soup.”

She hurried into the kitchen and set the flask of wine on a counter before turning to grab a tray laden with large porcelain bowls.

He watched her every move. “Spill a single one and I’ll have you whipped.”

Astrid nodded quickly and heaved the tray onto her shoulder. Though being whipped by a human hand was painful, she was much more concerned with the wrath of the Masters should she spill their first course. She’d dealt with whippings her whole life and had a mess of scars on her back to prove it. What she’d never felt the brunt of—and wouldn’t if she could help it—was a Master’s anger. She’d seen Master Petros angry one time and still had nightmares over it. He’d tossed the stone dining table into a wall and it had shattered on impact. His roars had echoed throughout the castle while the humans ran, screaming in fear. She’d huddled beneath the countertop where she slept—where she spent most of her time. It had taken all eleven of his brothers to calm Master Petros down.

She shook away the fear that memory brought and stepped back into the dining room. The men were laughing now at some tale or joke from Master Dunstan. Most of them leaned back in their wooden chairs, relaxed and far enough from the table for her to set out their bowls. As before, not a single one spared her a glance, but they each dipped into the soup soon after she placed it. The moment the last bowl was settled, Astrid all but ran back into the kitchen. The other workers weren’t friendly to her—or even nice—but they were human. Being in their company was better than quaking in fear of anything the Masters might say or do.

The first time she’d spied one of the protectors of the realm, Astrid had thought him the most glorious man she’d ever seen. She still acknowledged the brothers were handsome and well built. But now she knew they weren’t human and could easily crush her like a bug. It was a sobering thought—knowing she was little more than a gnat in their eyes. They might spend their days keeping the evil at bay, well away from the living stone wall that surrounded the Kingdom of Halstrid. However, fighting such vile creatures had turned them into creatures themselves. They were gargoyles, flesh and blood when they wished, or stone when in battle. They commanded inhuman strength with the senses of the best hunter. Mere humans were powerless against them.

“Wine!”

Astrid startled at the call from the deep voice she now recognized as belonging to Haldor. He certainly liked his drink and hated waiting for it. She grabbed the wine and rushed to refill his flask.

Orestes noticed the human woman rush back into the room with the cask of wine held before her like a weapon. He’d seen her a lot over the past two days, serving at their table in silence. She hurried to Haldor, who had most likely already forgotten his summons during his ripping into Kephas over their latest bet.

“Just because you are the oldest doesn’t make you the smartest, Kephas.”

All but the brother in question laughed at that observation. Kephas sat back with his arms crossed over his massive chest and raised a bushy black brow at Haldor. It was a joke among them to refer to him as the oldest since he was the first created.

“And I suppose you think you are, Haldor?”

The laughter died and all eyes turned to Haldor for his answer.

“Perhaps. I did win the bet. One you set the terms for, if I remember correctly.”

Orestes wasn’t the only one to roll his eyes. All of them clearly remembered Kephas painstakingly deciding on the terms of the bet. Orestes turned to catch his oldest brother’s response and once again took note of the woman. She had already filled Haldor’s flask and was trying to peek into the others without getting within arm’s reach of the table. It was actually rather amusing to see the small woman going up onto the tips of her toes to accomplish her task. She wore the tattered dress of a peasant, dirt staining the hem over her bare feet. Orestes frowned at the sight and let his gaze roam over the rest of her.

Thick black curls framed her thin face, falling in tangled waves to her waist. It looked as if she’d tried to tie them back, but the bit of string she’d used only held about half of the mass. Her large brown eyes were underlined by dark rings of fatigue and her pink lips were chapped. Her dress hung on her thin frame as if she hadn’t eaten well her entire life. Orestes’s frown deepened when he glanced down at his half-eaten soup. He was almost tempted to offer it to her but didn’t want to embarrass her in front of his brothers. He knew too well how proud some idiot humans could be.

It bothered him that a member of their staff would be in such condition. Were the other humans in the same state? Shame burned in his gut when he realized he’d never taken enough time to notice. There was no reason for her suffering. The guardians were well compensated by the monarchy for their protection of the realm. He knew for a fact funds were set aside for running the household staff. Surely they were paid as well. He glanced at his brother, Wynnston, who was in charge of dealing with the servants around the castle. He would have to question him on it after Kephas and Haldor settled their debate.

The woman moved around the table and out of his line of sight. His large brothers now sat in the way, but soon she would be at his elbow. A new and strange urge overtook Orestes and he wasn’t certain what to do. For the first time ever, he desired to speak to a human. It certainly wasn’t unheard of. A few of his brothers even bedded them on occasion. However, Orestes didn’t usually deal with humans directly. There was the occasional ceremony he was forced to attend when they dedicated some statue or structure in his name. As a guardian, he was revered as a great protector and nearly worshipped in some villages. He didn’t like the worship but he liked the awe-inspired wariness. The less he had to deal with humans the better. Usually. For some odd reason, this little mouse of a human woman intrigued him, and he wanted to figure out why.

Astrid stepped gingerly around the back of Goran’s chair and peeked into Sakhr’s flask. It too was still practically full. As she’d expected, only Haldor and Dunstan had needed more wine. She’d heard of a drinking competition between the two of them that had lasted nine days. The servants still debated over who had won. With one flask to go, she leaned forward and rose up onto her toes to look into Orestes’s, but then it moved up and out of her sight. She gasped and stepped back quickly as he took a deep swallow before slowly lowering the drink from his handsome face. Her eyes on the flask, Astrid didn’t notice him watching her until he spoke.

“I’m still good on wine, little human, but perhaps you would like a cup?”

Astrid felt the blood drain from her face and wondered if she would faint dead on the spot.

Orestes frowned when she took another step back and vigorously shook her head. “Come now. I mean you no harm,” he said. “Are you ill?”

Her heart fairly leapt out of her chest as he rose from his seat and stepped toward her. At barely five-foot-three, she had to crane her neck to face him, but only raised her gaze to his neck. It was thick and strong like the rest of him. He towered at least a foot over her, but his massively broad shoulders seemed to blot out all light from the wall sconces around the room. She panted in fear and fought the urge to beg for mercy.

Orestes took the final step until only a foot span separated them. Behind him, the room had fallen silent while his brothers watched the scene unfold. Astrid didn’t know what she had done wrong and silently cursed her inherent clumsiness.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she whispered.

Orestes reached out and took the cask from her shaking hands. She gasped and released it, throwing her arms over her head for protection.

“What the hell? Orestes, what have you done to the girl?” Steinn called out.

“Nothing, brother. Yet she is quaking in absolute terror. You there. Come here and tell me what is wrong with this woman.”

Astrid stayed shaking against the wall as hurried footsteps echoed in the room. She recognized Simon’s gait and her back burned in expectation.

“Yes, Master Orestes?” Simon asked.

“What’s wrong with this woman?”

There was complete silence for a few seconds before Simon chuckled and grabbed Astrid’s arm. She tensed, but didn’t dare pull away while he dragged her toward the kitchen.

“Nothing the matter, my lord. She’s simply nervous from serving your table these past few nights.”

Astrid dared a glance at Orestes, who was frowning at Simon and shaking his head as if in dispute. Kephas walked over to his brother and clasped his shoulder before responding. “Ah, a new recruit, eh? Best take her into the kitchen and calm her down. Perhaps give her a drop of wine and let her rest. We can wait on the next course.”

Simon nodded, dragged her through the swinging wooden door, and threw her to the floor as soon as they were out of sight of the Masters.

“Stupid, bitch,” he hissed. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

He couldn’t yell for fear the Masters would hear, and Astrid hoped that would also keep him from hitting her. She would be punished but didn’t mind a little delay.

“I’m s-sorry. I’m s-so sorry.”

He reached down and grabbed her by the hair before dragging her across the hard, stone floor. Astrid clasped his wrist in both hands to relieve some of the pressure, but it did no good. He pulled her out the door into a courtyard adjacent to the kitchen where they grew herbs and vegetables. A tree stump for chopping wood sat in the center with an axe imbedded in the top. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, it gleamed as if expecting her blood.

“I’ll teach you to embarrass me like that, you stupid bitch. I knew from the first time I saw you, there would be trouble.”

Tears streamed from Astrid’s eyes and her head pounded in pain. Simon threw her against the stump and pulled a small whip from within his jacket. “Turn around and face the stump. Don’t even think of running or you won’t be welcome back. You know what it’s like out there for a woman alone.”

She did. After years of living on her own in the forest, too young and inexperienced to hunt and too old to earn the pity of strangers, Astrid had nearly starved to death. On one of her rare excursions into a village, she’d been convinced to come to this castle. She still hadn’t decided if it was a better life or not, but she feared going back into the forest alone.

With no thought but survival, she turned and gripped the edges of the stump. Simon pulled apart the ties on the back of her dress and pushed her hair over one shoulder, baring her already scarred skin. She shivered and braced her feet apart, awaiting the inevitable pain. She heard Simon move back and knew he raised his hand to strike. In the next heartbeat, pain lanced across her back and she heard the crack of his whip.

A roar unlike anything she’d ever heard echoed across the courtyard. “What the hell?”