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The Gargoyle King by Christina Dutch Blog Tour

It is well known that gargoyles despise witches.

The Gargoyle King, an all-new dark, steamy, enemies to lovers, monster romance from debut author Christina Dutch is available now!


After years of war, Prince Ragnar Nordskov returns to Herrlof as a King. 

Vengeance rages across the land after he found his brother dead, sister exiled, and his greatest political rival attempting to usurp the throne. 

When he finally gains the upper hand, a new magical enemy appears with dark magick he has never encountered before: powers that could wipe his kind out. 

After a brutal attack he is forced to rely, what should be his greatest enemy.


It is well known that gargoyles despise witches. During the Great War, a faction of magick folk ambush the gargoyles of the north and fail. 

Now witches are killed on site in Herrlof, yet here she was. But Elisora had a mission of her own. 

Hunt the sorcerer that destroyed her home, murdered her father, and tortured her for years. Only then, could she find peace. 

But there is something about the gargoyle king. At first, she wishes to disappear after saving his life, but over time, she finds more reason to stay and fight alongside him.

Enemies are brought together because of a common enemy. But the Fates have more in store for the unlikely pair then they could ever imagine

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“Tell me, has Harold conditioned you to question all of our King’s orders?”

“Leave my father out of this,” Hadrian seethed, his golden eyes narrowing angrily in return, his claws flexing against the metal hilt of his sword. The horns that grew from his forehead flickered like lightning against the sun, and his pointed ears twitched. The smirk on Nero’s full lips was small yet threatening. Flames radiated from his dark granite skin, making the long black hairs around his crown float. The hostility made the runes against their gray skin glow, Nero’s golden like the sun and Hadrian’s navy as the night sky. Were they not careful, then the lightning and fire they controlled would destroy what little evidence they had. 

Ragnar remained calm. While Hadrian had served him well in the Great War, it did not dismiss the fact that he was his enemy’s son. Until Harold could finally be dealt with, Hadrian could not be fully trusted. On the battlefield, he had covered his back and ensured many victories against any who dared threaten him. Had supplies or weapons been broken or scarce, Hadrian would find a solution. He was an excellent strategist when it mattered until they returned home to Herrlof. It was at home that his father manipulated his every word and action. Hadrian had political and battle prowess. As much as he did not desire it, he needed him for his knowledge and as a tool to keep tabs on his father. 

If only he could meet Harold on a battlefield and slaughter him as he did the orcs, demons, and magick folk. He was a traitor, and traitors deserved to have their corpses quartered and emptied of blood, among others. He would keep his head on the best pike he could find. It would go beautifully next to the others who dared to defy him when he took his throne. 

Hadrian argued vehemently with Nero. Hadrian seemed honest, but there was always a possibility that he could easily stab him in the back when he least suspected. When Hadrian yanked his blade from his scabbard, Ragnar intervened. 

“Enough!” Ragnar commanded. The two froze, then bowed at the hip. The sooner this investigation could begin, the sooner he could calm his headache back at the castle. “The dwarves told me there were missing gems. Hadrian, find the center of these burns. If you see any stones, do not touch them. Nero, take to the skies. These markings are fresh, and I want to know if our guest has taken shelter nearby.”

Someone was clearly looking for something and had been camping on his land for some time. Every step he took brushed the ash further into the area. Soon, the intended message would be lost. 


Eyes bore against his head. His lungs and stomach constricted. This was the same feeling he had when an enemy thought they had him cornered. 

“How could someone have been here for so long without my knowledge?” Ragnar asked. Nero had never missed a threat. Not in hundreds of years. What kind of enemy could evade his most discerning eyes? 

The whispered question remained unanswered as he grazed the rune line once more. Flexed fingers itched toward the bronzed hilt of his sword. This enemy was magical. No other could hide their aura this long. 

Wind kissed the burns once more at Ragnar’s command. A caster always left a signature behind, a clue to the magick left behind. That clue would be the key to defeating his cleverly hidden enemy. And they would pay with blood.

A hoarse cry broke his focus. Darkness bubbled at the edge of the field. Nero descended from the skies. Crimson fire burned in his eyes and palms. The wind that Ragnar always controlled pushed him back. 


 A gutted cow from the nearby village was splayed on the grass, blood pooling from its sides. Predators had torn the flesh from its carcass, and its mouth was wide open in presumed fear. 

“A sacrifice?” Nero questioned. The muscles in his neck stiffened, and his brow wrinkled. His descent from the skies stopped at the tree line. 

“Our evidence that dark magick has indeed entered my borders,” Ragnar answered. Only three gargoyles, other than himself, could use magick but not dark magick. 

Crack! A stick broke in the distance. Ragnar flicked his thumb, releasing his great sword from its sheathe. 

Who are you? Ragnar thought. 

“Sire, look out!” Hadrian bellowed. 

His great sword screamed as a dark force burst from the trees, blowing him back to the middle of the rune. Black arrows followed, aiming for him. With a swipe of his hand, wind shielded him. 

“Never thought I would catch the gargoyle king in my trap. What a sacrifice you will be.” A foreign voice mocked him, not through his pointed gray ears, but within his mind. 

“Show yourself!” Ragnar roared. 

Scorched earth vibrated, shooting in the air like tentacles. The tips morphed into serpents and grinned down at him maliciously. Ragnar sliced through them with his sword, but they kept multiplying. 

Do you enjoy my hydras? They have been quite hungry lately.” 

Ragnar expanded his wings and shot for the sky. No matter how high he went, the blackness ensnared him. His comrades’yells came from different directions. For the love of the gods, how could not one of them assist him? 

A black pointed head cut towards him, snapping at him with ghostly razor teeth. Light blue sky peeked in the distance, but the tunnel seemed never-ending. His sapphire eyes glowed as he manipulated the air coming through them. 

Snap! Snap! 

Teeth came for his legs, arms, and torso, stealing his focus. Instead of a straight line, he swerved strategically and randomly. 

“Your Majesty!” Voices of his generals called to him but were soon drowned out by slashing blades and screeching echoes everywhere, keeping him from pinpointing anyone’s exact location. Ragnar focused on the air hitting his face.
The small amount of wind in the makeshift tunnel built under his boots. With enough pressure, he would catapult up faster than the hydra could catch him. After counting to three, Ragnar leaped. Darkness left him briefly. 

Dozens of empty black eyes and razor teeth hastily approached. Hydra heads bobbed as Ragnar sliced. Every time he cut a head off, two more replaced it. 

There are too many. Where were Nero and Hadrian? A flaming blur flew under his boots, decapitating multiple heads. The ghostly black body swayed left. Nero was the distraction, with Hadrian as the offensive power. Great orange flames from Nero hugged the hydra with no reaction. The once black rune began glowing navy, merging with the shadow creature. 

Ragnar circled the Hydra. Everything had a weakness, and he would find this one.

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