Page 108 of Eat. Prey. Love.

You faced a real life trolley problem,and made your decision accordingly.

I understand that weight now, as I have finally found a family to replace the one I was born into. Unlike you, I would choose them over the fate of the species or even the world, so I am forced to initiate contact when I would have preferred to leave the past interr’d with the bones, as the Bard said.

La vie n’est rien si elle n’est pleine d’ironie et de douleur, n’est-ce pas?

Since time is of the essence, I will get to the point rather than continue to focus on the past. I have already spent far too many years allowing your choice to haunt me—both for self-loathing and grief purposes. The latter is why I finally gave in, by the way. My brooding grief kept me from enjoying my first connection as much as I should have for so many years—and a mate is something that should have been centuries of celebration, yet it wasn’t. At least, not to the fullest capacity possible, which I blame your actions for.

I hold responsibility as well, but I am working through that in a much healthier way than before.

You are likely wondering what this missive has to do with, other than getting my written closure on my exile. The chickens have come to roost on the topic of magic and the Fae, unfortunately. Your decision is for naught, I believe, because they have resurfaced and they are even angrier than they were at our sentencing. The research my family is in themidst of actually suggests that the people the Councils and their ilk believed they suppressed into near extinction have only been hiding—biding their time until they see openings for rebellion.

Past tries have been unsuccessful, and I am not certain why. However, there is a variable I cannot confirm at this time, and I wonder if it is perhaps the reason why they are now openly attacking the root of their exile. Those responsible for sealing the gates to the Veil and hunting down stragglers may be at their most vulnerable now, and if you are secluded enough that you have not heard about the kidnappings and attacks, you need to be aware now. Your ties to the past before the treaties makes you especially vulnerable because of origins.

You are not safe, even if you believe yourselves to be such based on my exile.

Please understand that I am not using this crisis in the supernatural world to rub in the fallacy of that choice.

C’est comme ça, non?

However, the Fates have brought me to our former home, Paris, and I am closer than I have been in many centuries. I seek permission to bring my new family to your home in the mountains where we can discuss this new threat to both of our clutches, and perhaps understand how to defeat the forces determined to destroy the world as we know it. The verbal archives kept by our people will be the most accurate information on the Fair Folk and the other magical beings in existence—except for, perhaps, those kept by other mythical species out of the current leadership’s reach.

I trust our account far more than that other species, of course. Our biases are known, whereas those of the other supes’ are not. My mates and the rest of my family will help me sort through the massive amount of information, which is why I am bringing them rather than face my shame on my own. They have varied talents and we support one another much in the way I believed our clutch did before my exile.

You will likely push back on my request to bring non-gargoyles into the clutch territory and I understand why. Allowing that prior to my being cast out is what got us into this very position, but I humbly request that you set aside that prejudice in order to prevent this mainstream shifter problem from becoming an issue for all gargoyles and indeed, the entirety of reclusive mythicals such as ourselves.

The time for hiding has ended Your Highnesses.

There is no place anyone will be safe if this war of magicals versus shifters escalates and I am not certain that the shifter side isn’t purposefully allowing it to do so. I haven’t shared all of these fears with my family yet because I have to relate the cause of my exile to my mates. Until now, it has been too painful to do so, but before we journey to your lands—hopefully in the summer—I must come clean. Then I will share it with the rest of our clutch so we are all aware of the pitfalls of visiting your lands.

I do not wish to cause morefractures or rehash what cannot be changed while we are visiting. My sole focus is information that will protect my mates and family, then possibly the rest of the world.

If it’s not possible to do both, my choice will not resemble yours in the slightest—that much is crystal clear in my mind.

Please send a response post haste upon receipt so that I may begin the process of planning.

With great hope,

Renard Laveaux

Former Heir to the Throne of the Laveaux Clutch

Finishing ?1 the letter with a final, decisive stroke, I fold it carefully, sealing it with wax that bears no mark. The message needs to reach the old country undetected, and for this task, I trust ancient methods over modern ones. I rise, stretching wings that have been idle too long, and move to the edge of the parapets.

Below, the campus sprawls indifferently, unaware of the secrets that flutter above their heads. I call upon the service only we gargoyles possess, a network of couriers older than some civilizations, bred for loyalty and discretion. I didn’t bring any of my family into this secret meeting because this service would not show if anyone other than a gargoyle was present. Our network is secure only when it is not compromised and I cannot break that vow—not when I am asking for a favor.

A shadow detaches itself from the darkness below, a figure trained from birth for this very purpose. With a respectful nod, it extends an arm, waiting for the missive that could change the tide in asecret war.

“Take it,” I command softly, “to the mountains belonging to the Laveaux clutch.”

It nods. “It will be so.”

My voice is a low rumble that stirs the night air. “It carries more than just ink. You hold the difference between disaster and aversion, courier. Do not fail.”

The courier disappears as silently as it arrived, swallowed by the night. Alone once more, I retreat into the shadows of my tower, the echo of that elusive scent still lingering in my mind, a question unanswered and full of foreboding.

As I watch it disappear, a pang of sadness strikes me, not as debilitating as it once was, but significant nonetheless. Dolly’s warmth flickers in my heart, a reminder that I am no longer a creature of solitude.

“And soon,” I murmur into the wind, “it will be time to unfold my past to Dolly and Aubrey.”