Alban’s eyes widened, palpable shock rolling off him. “Daisani’s assistant? That Vanessa Gray?”
“That one.”
Alban whistled, a long high sound of wind howling through stone, and Margrit looked at him in surprise. “You can whistle?”
His eyebrows wrinkled. “Can’t you?”
“Of course, but it’s so frivolous. You’re sort of stolid. I wouldn’t have thought whistling was in a gargoyle’s nature.”
Alban chuckled. “I don’t do it often.

Author: C.E. Murphy