Chapter 3
Lorali
H ot tea in hand, Eldric had taken the near loss of his soul quite well. The steaming cup of homegrown lavender and chamomile and rose, sweetened with a dash of honeyed whiskey, likely helped to take the edge off. Lorali was sure he needed it just as much, if not more, than she did right now.
“If Athanasios said it wasn’t my time, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” he asked, watching small bits of flowers that snuck through the strainer swirl around the mushroom-adorned mug.
“I thought you had a plan,” Lorali admitted as she fidgeted with the deep green stoneware, rubbing the divots and grooves of the embossed forest design.
“Athanasios is the only god that requires a blood offering. When he said you were no follower of his, I thought it was a ploy to free your hands. Why else would someone beseech him? As you said before, he is not known for his, ah, sunny disposition. ” She whispered, leaning in as if speaking quietly would not allow the old god to hear her.
“I’ve heard much about you, Eldric Lorecaster. You have to be cunning—clever, even—to be a thief of such caliber and only be caught now. I presumed you would not give up so easily.” Her brows knit together as she searched for the truth in the bottom of her tea. “But when you didn’t put up a fight and Fulke put those shackles back on you, I panicked. I realized too late that Athanasios had charged me with keeping you from death. A gallows marriage was the only thing I could think of to stop it. To not fail what he had tasked me with.”
“And now we’re here,” Eldric said.
“And now we’re here,” Lorali agreed.
“I could leave, you know. Run off into the night and leave you to deal with the consequences.”
“I know.” Her grip tightened on the mug, crafted antlers of a stag pressing into her skin. “But I don’t think you will.”
Eldric blew out a breath as he leaned back, holding his mug precariously by the rim. His long limbs looked crowded in the small chair as he stretched out. “Now why on Ostara’s lighted soil would you think that?”
She worried her bottom lip, thinking of her heartbeat decision. How little thought she had put into it. “I have to believe that someone who would steal from nobles to care for and feed the hungry people of this city would be a man of honor.”
Lorali clutched her cup tighter, so tight she thought it might break, as a humorless chuckle escaped his lips.
“A man of honor...” Eldric shook his head in disbelief as he reached for the honeyed whiskey, topping off his half-drunken mug. “It’s been a long time since someone has thought so highly of me.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Depends who you ask.”
“Is that why Fulke called you an oathbreaker?”
Eldric stilled at the words, gaze sharp on hers in an instant.
“Yes, it is. I am an oathbreaker. Far from a man of honor, Miss Wynmar. And before you ask, since you never seem to know when to stop asking: no, I will not divulge further." His words were short and clipped as he drank deeply from his now-mostly-whiskey tea. He set it down with such force that Lorali couldn’t help but flinch. Silence settled heavy between them. He wasn’t wrong; she would have pushed him further. She wanted to know everything she could about him. Needed to, for the sake of her own sanity.
“Miss Wynmar—” she drawled after a prolonged silence, trying to get back on his good side. The last thing she wanted was to start whatever journey they were about to embark upon together on the wrong foot. “Does that mean you intend to take my last name then? Or shall I be taking the name Lorecaster?”
“We keep our own names,” he growled. “Despite the ceremony tomorrow, I am not bound to you. This isn’t a genuine marriage. You look like you can’t be over eighteen. It would never work, darling.”
She couldn’t help the small grin that quirked the edge of her mouth at his quick quip.
“Twenty-six. And I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“What?”
“I’m twenty-six.”
Eldric’s brows rose at that.
“Twenty-six? What do you take me for, a fool?”
“Believe what you want, but I take care of my skin. That way I don’t look old and haggard when I’m over forty like you,” she bit back.
“ Over forty? ” he repeated incredulously.
“You’re too old for me—it would never work between us.” She crooned.
“I’m thirty-two, I’ll have you know.”
“Your grey hairs say otherwise.”
He gaped, hand flying to the close-cropped sides as if to cover the truth .
“I’m observant,” she smiled. “So, as we were agreeing, this ‘marriage’ is a formality, though we will have to abide by the rules of the bond. One year of good behavior and you’ll officially be a freed man.”
“Cheeky little shit,” he grumbled.
“Much of what is known about the gallows bond is lost to antiquity, so we’ll have to live together while we figure things out. For now, you can have the couch—which is rather comfortable, truth be told. I must clean the spare bedroom before you can sleep in there.”
Lorali continued as if he’d said nothing, prattling off like a commander going to battle as she took the teapot and her mug to the sink.
“I won’t interfere with your daily life if you stay out of mine. I’ll have to do more research on what the bond entails. It’s unfortunate that there isn’t much information out there in official texts...” she muttered with a frown, dumping the tea strainings into her bin before turning the faucet on.
“Aye, commander,” Eldric muttered, cheek resting against his palm. “Traded one warden for another.”
“What’d you say?” Lorali whirled on him with a raised eyebrow, feeling as if she might throw her favourite mug at his head .
“Nothing, dear,” he responded in a sing-song voice before returning to nurse his drink in silence.
She narrowed her eyes, certain he said something cross about her but unsure of what over the sound of running water.
“That’s what I thought.”