Chapter 17
17
CAT
I lay on my bed face down as Maeve used a pair of scissors to cut away the back of my dress, which was glued to the weeping lashes crisscrossed over my flesh. Jacob turned his back to us so he wouldn’t see my exposed skin, but he refused to leave my room until he knew the extent of the damage.
Trying to control my racing heart and the pain that still coursed through me was difficult, and I breathed in through my mouth and out through my nose in a steady, deep rhythm. Some of the blood had dried and stuck to my clothes, so with each pull, I groaned and fought the urge to scream. Maeve paused and winced every time.
“I’m sorry, my lady,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” I gasped, out of breath. “It’s okay,” I repeated. “It’s not your fault.”
“The healer should be on his way.” Jacob cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough, Arya. I should have protected you. I—”
“It’s not your fault, either,” I murmured drowsily. “This was bound to happen sooner or later.”
I didn’t know what deal Gianna and Lord Zacharia had struck, but a bargain had been made. That much was obvious. Lord Zacharia had never treated his legitimate child this way before. Arya had done many horrible things in the past and he always overlooked them. Something had changed. And I was almost positive it had something to do with my older half-sister. The expression on her face as she watched me being beaten spoke volumes. If she thought she was successfully hiding her twisted side, she was sorely mistaken.
“Get Garrick,” I said to Maeve. “Bring him to me.”
Maeve frowned. “What? My lady, he’s a warlock, not a healer.”
I didn’t know much about their magic system here, but Garrick was powerful enough to strike fear in those who knew about him. I’d long suspected that he made his own deal with the emperor to stifle his powers in exchange for his life, which was why that day we met at the tavern and he was about to get jumped by those humans, he was practically powerless.
“Who is Garrick?” Jacob quickly asked.
“A friend,” I whispered.
“A warlock,” Maeve corrected and turned back to me. “My lady, I know you trust Garrick and he’s helped us out a lot, but you must still be careful. If the emperor learns—”
“Wait…” Jacob spun around, no longer caring about propriety. “You mean Garrick the Betrayer?” he said incredulously.
Maeve nodded as she nibbled her bottom lip and wrung her hands.
“He’s a good friend,” I said. “If anyone can heal me, it’ll be him. Now bring him to me. Don’t make me ask again, Maeve.”
“My lady!” Maeve gasped. She looked between me and Jacob, wondering what to do.
Jacob's stance hardened, his military background evident in his posture and tone. “A warlock, especially one with Garrick's reputation, should not be involved in this. There's too much at stake. The last thing we need is to give the emperor another reason to target this family.”
I shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at the open wounds on my back. “Jacob, I need him. I know the risks,” I said through gritted teeth.
Maeve hovered nearby, her expression torn. “My lady, perhaps the healer can—”
“No!” I cut her off sharply, feeling a flare of frustration. Healers were human, which meant they were limited on what they could do. I was also human, which meant it would take forever for me to heal. I didn’t have that kind of time. These injuries left me too exposed to the ones who wanted to hurt me. “The healers here can’t do what Garrick can. I've seen what he's capable of. Trust me on this.”
Jacob frowned, his brows knitting together in conflict. “This is madness, Arya! Inviting a disgraced warlock like him into our home—into our family’s affairs—is too dangerous.”
I forced myself to sit up, drawing on the last reserves of my strength to plead my case. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but Garrick has abilities that go beyond what any normal healer can provide. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate.”
Jacob paced a few steps and then stopped, running his hands through his hair. “If anything happens, if the emperor finds out—”
“He won't,” I assured him, though a part of me knew the gamble was as high as the stakes. “Garrick is discreet, and he owes me.” Although technically, he’d done me so many favors that his debt was probably paid in full by now.
After a tense moment, Jacob exhaled sharply. “Fine. But I’ll be here, watching. The moment anything seems off, I’ll put an end to it.”
Maeve, sensing the concession, nodded and hurriedly left the room to fetch Garrick from where he was stationed at the beach house that housed Arya’s paintings and money. It would be easy to find him.
The room fell silent after she left, with only the sound of my labored breathing and the distant calls of birds outside. Jacob remained in place as my stalwart sentinel, his body taut with barely contained anxiety.
“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice filled with pain and relief. It was a risk, calling on Garrick, but desperation had a way of narrowing choices to the sharpest points.
Jacob didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on the window, as if he expected trouble to come bursting through at any moment. In the strained silence, the weight of our collective fears seemed almost palpable, pressing down on us with the heavy warmth of the late afternoon.
Garrick was quickly and discreetly ushered into Lady Arya’s quarters with the Ryder servants and guards none the wiser. Jacob had covered my bare back before the warlock stepped inside, which was stupid of him. Garrick would have to look at my wounds to treat them.
“My lady.” Garrick glanced at Maeve and Jacob before returning his attention to me. “Are you okay?”
I grimaced. “Peachy,” I said. “But I need another favor.”
Garrick sighed and scratched his head, his brown leather eye patch shifting with the movement. “My lady, you sure are demanding.”
“You—!” Jacob started, but I cut him off.
“It’s okay, Jacob,” I said with a chuckle. “This is how we engage.”
Garrick smirked. “Looks like someone was flogged. Why didn’t you call a healer?”
I raised a brow. “Do you think a healer can heal me as quickly as you can?”
Garrick narrowed his gaze on me as if I’d just revealed one of his closely-guarded secrets. “My lady,” he growled, “using magic to heal is not recommended.”
“Are there any side effects?” I knew my body better than anyone. If I could handle the side effects, I’d go through with it. No questions asked.
Jacob's concern deepened, his eyes flicking between Garrick and me, clearly unsettled by the conversation about magical healing. “What are the side effects?” he echoed, crossing his arms defensively.
Garrick shifted uncomfortably, his one eye scrutinizing me closely. “It depends on the severity of the injuries and the amount of magic used. It can range from minor fatigue to... more severe, long-term consequences.”
I nodded, ready to accept the risk. “I can handle fatigue. What are the possible long-term consequences?”
Garrick hesitated, then sighed. “In some cases, the healed tissue might not integrate perfectly with the natural body tissues, causing chronic pain or even re-opening of wounds under stress.”
“That's a risk I'm willing to take,” I insisted, glancing at Jacob to gauge his reaction.
Jacob looked torn, his duty to protect clashing with his respect for my choice. “Arya, this isn't just about you. If something goes wrong, how would I explain it to Father? The emperor—”
“I know,” I cut him off, a little sharper than I intended. “But lying here, bleeding and broken, is worse and it gives my enemies an opportunity to pounce again.”
“Enemies?” Jacob parroted as if he couldn’t believe his baby sister, of all people, had enemies.
Garrick cleared his throat and stepped forward. “If you're sure, my lady, I'll proceed. But we'll need privacy.”
Jacob’s reluctance was unmistakable as he hovered near the door, his gaze fixed on Garrick with evident distrust. “I'm not comfortable leaving her alone with you,” he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
Unfazed by the tension, Garrick met Jacob's gaze evenly. “Young master, I understand your concerns, but the lady's condition requires privacy and concentration. I assure you, no harm will come to her under my care.”
“ You assure me?” Jacob scoffed, his protective instincts flaring. “And why should I trust the word of a warlock? Especially one known as 'the Betrayer'?”
I interjected, trying to ease the mounting tension. “Jacob, Garrick has helped us before. He’s here because I trust him, not because he wishes me harm. Please, this is necessary.”
“I don’t care if he’s helped the immortals themselves, Arya. I don’t trust him!” Jacob shouted.
“Young master,” Maeve finally spoke, reaching for his arm. “I know I have no right to comment, but Garrick truly is trustworthy. He has helped my lady plenty of times. We can stand outside the room just in case. Yes?”
After a tense moment, Jacob slowly exhaled, his shoulders slumping in resignation. “I'll be right outside the door. At the first sign of trouble, I'm coming in,” he warned before finally stepping out with Maeve, though his lingering look told me he was far from reassured.
Once we were alone, Garrick approached where I lay on the bed with a small, intricately carved wooden box in his hands. He opened it with care, revealing several small vials filled with luminescent liquids that seemed to pulse with their own inner light. He selected one with contents that shimmered like liquid gold.
He pulled back the covers to expose my back. “This will hurt more than the flogging itself, but it'll be quick,” Garrick warned, his voice low. “The magic is potent, and it needs to merge with your essence to fully integrate.”
I nodded. “Go ahead,” I said, bracing myself and gritting my teeth in anticipation.
Garrick uncorked the vial and began a low, melodic chant that filled the room with vibrating energy. The air thickened and a subtle glow emanated from the vial as he held it over my wounds. With precise movements, he tipped the vial and the glowing substance trickled down in a thin stream onto the raw, inflamed stripes across my back.
The sensation was immediate and overwhelming; it felt as if a scalding wave had washed over me, searing yet strangely cleansing. I clenched my fists and bit back a cry as the liquid fire sank into my flesh, knitting the torn skin with a fierce, burning heat that gradually subsided into a dull throb. I gritted my teeth to avoid screaming and alerting Jacob and Maeve.
Garrick handed me a strip of leather. “Bite down so you don’t chip a tooth,” he said, and I did just that.
As the last of the liquid was absorbed, the glow dimmed and the room grew quiet once more.
“The worst has passed.” Garrick began to put his things away. “You’ll feel your skin and muscles begin to slowly knit back together. You must not move until it is complete.”
“How do I know when it’s complete?” I asked with a wince.
“Trust me, my lady, you’ll know,” he said cryptically. As he stood, Garrick looked down at me and sighed. “You honestly get yourself into so much trouble, my lady. But… why didn’t Klaus come to your aid?”
I frowned. He was right. Klaus should have rescued me before I was even struck. I understood that it took him a little while to reach me at the palace because he was fighting to get past Dragon Valley’s wards, but there was no such issue here at the Ryder residence.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “That’s a good question. He should have been here.”
“That means he’s broken your deal,” Garrick said. “It should be null and void now.”
My eyes widened. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On one hand, I was relieved. If the emperor ever found out I freed Klaus from Faelight Forest, the consequences would be more than I could possibly handle. But on the other hand, Klaus was my protector. Without him, I felt vulnerable.
Garrick nodded. “This is probably for the best, my lady.”
“Right,” I muttered, lost in thought. “It seems like I owe you , now.”
With a chuckle, he perched at the edge of the bed and leaned on his knees. “I guess so.”
I grimaced as I felt my skin begin to knit together, piece by piece. “Garrick, can I ask you a question?”
He shrugged. “I feel like you’re going to ask it regardless, so go ahead,” he smirked.
I laughed and immediately winced from the pain. “Jacob called you ‘Garrick the Betrayer’, and it’s not the first time I’ve heard someone call you that. What’s the story behind it?”
Garrick sighed and ran a hand through his greasy hair. “You’ve already heard that the emperor took my eye, right?” I nodded. “He also gave me that name.”
I frowned. “How come? I can’t imagine you betraying anyone.”
He nodded. “I didn’t. I just didn’t want to do what the emperor requested of me. It was against my morals. But my refusal to do his bidding angered the emperor.” Garrick paused, his eye reflecting a pain deeper than the physical scars he bore. “Years ago, I was among the most revered warlocks in Elaria, sought after by many for my powers and wisdom. Emperor Valenor... saw potential in me, potential to serve his darker ambitions.”
He shifted uncomfortably, the memories clearly tormenting him. “At first I was honored by his esteem, but then Valenor tasked me with a mission that went against every fiber of my being. He wanted me to create a curse that would bind the will of those he deemed to be a threat to his reign. I was to use my magic to strip them of their free will, making them puppets under his control.”
The bitterness in his voice grew more pronounced as he continued. “I refused. I couldn’t stomach the thought of my abilities being used to enslave minds. So I defied him, openly and boldly. That didn’t sit well with him, not at all. And not just any witch or warlock could create this curse. It was something of which only I am capable.”
Garrick's hand instinctively moved to cover his missing eye. “In his wrath, Valenor accused me of betrayal against the crown. As punishment, and a warning to others, he took my eye, proclaiming it the ‘eye of a betrayer,’ a symbol of what happens to those who oppose him. From that day, I was no longer the revered warlock but Garrick the Betrayer , a title meant to diminish my influence and remind others of the cost of defiance.”
His voice lowered, filled with a mixture of regret and rebellion. “Stripped of my status, shunned by those I once called friends and allies, I lost everything. My home, my place in society, even my sense of purpose. With nowhere to turn, I fell into gambling, a pathetic attempt to fill the void that my old life left behind. It became a vice, one that led me further down a path of ruin.”
A deep sadness settled over me as I listened. His was a story of courage and consequence, about a man who stood by his principles only to be crushed by the power he dared to defy.
“But you still have the home the emperor gave to you in the Northern District, right? At least that’s what I heard.”
Garrick nodded. “Many people assume Valenor gave me that home, and I let people believe it to be the truth. But in reality, the one who gave me that land was not the emperor, but the empress when she was alive. That is why he cannot take it from me. If it wasn’t for that reason, he would have, like he’s taken everything else.”
“I’m sorry, Garrick,” I finally said, the depth of his loss resonating with me more than I expected. “That’s... that’s a lot to bear.”
He gave a hollow laugh, the sound more pained than amused. “It is what it is, my lady. We all have our burdens; mine just happens to be more visible.” His gaze met mine, resignation and resolve flickering within. “But know this—I may be down, but I'm not out. Not yet. And as long as I have magic in my veins, I still have a role to play.”
His words, though ominous, carried a sliver of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest times, the spirit of resistance could endure.
My brows shot up. “But I thought you didn’t want anything to do with magic or the emperor or anything of the sort!” I blurted.
“I didn’t,” he said. “But helping you has convinced me that idly sitting by may not be the smartest move. Not unless I want to spend the rest of my life in the gambling dens wasting all my money until I don’t have a coin to my name.”
“Are you sure, Garrick? The path I’m on is a tricky one. You don’t know everything—”
“ Song of the Dragon Rider ,” he said plainly. “It’s about you, isn’t it?”
My eyes widened in shock. “What? How?”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, my lady, it’s not obvious to most. It’s just obvious to me because I know your secret. You’re the only thing new here in Elaria, and suddenly we have a Dragon Rider in our midst? You’re an enigma.”
“Oh,” I murmured, feeling somewhat stupid.
Garrick stood. “I won’t tell anyone, so have no fear, my lady. But there’s a storm brewing, and you must prepare. The emperor will not calmly step aside when he hears that the twin flames have appeared.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“Very well. We’ll keep in touch. If you need anything,” he pulled a wooden whistle tied to a leather cord from his pocket and handed it to me, “call on me. This is a magic whistle. When you blow on it, no sound comes out, but I will be able to hear it. I will come to your aid now that Klaus is no longer in the picture.”
“Garrick!” I gasped as I took the whistle. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know, but in case of an emergency, you’ll have it.”
I nodded. “Thank you, Garrick. For this and for coming today.”
“Of course, my lady.” He bowed and turned to leave. “Rest now,” he said softly over his shoulder. “The healing has begun, but your body needs time to adjust to the magic.”
Exhaustion tugged at the edges of my consciousness, a reminder of the ordeal and the magic’s toll. Garrick’s footsteps faded as he left the room, and I was left in the dim, silent aftermath of the warlock’s tragic story, hoping the gamble of the magical healing would prove to be worth its hidden cost.