CHAPTER THREE
For a long while, I gazed through the window above the bed, studying the glow from the stars streaming through the bare branches of a tree outside the cabin. They rose toward the sky like skeletal fingers grasping for a shred of distant light. Meanwhile, the wind continued to whisper through the forest, causing the trees to creak and the cabin itself to tremble. The low-burning fire helped chase away the frigid air that seeped through each crack in the walls, but I was still grateful for the fur blankets I’d burrowed into.
Garrick had offered me a loose shirt that hung overlarge on my frame but covered me enough to avoid feeling too scandalous. Still, my legs had been bare, so I’d demanded that he turn away as I settled into the bed, piling the furs over me until I was comfortable and completely covered.
Now, I rolled over restlessly and studied the darkened cabin and then Garrick. Stretched out on a heap of blankets before the fire, he’d gone so still and quiet that I imagined he was already asleep. That was, until he stirred, as if sensing the weight of my gaze. His gold eyes met mine in the dimness.
Embarrassed to be caught staring, I tried to draw attention away from the fact by asking the question that had been haunting me. “You said we’d decide about my future tomorrow. But what does that mean? You’re a Silverfrost, and you told me you sometimes hunt for the king and queen. Would you turn me over to them?”
Garrick’s eyes flicked to the fire. “I don’t want to. Though they’re my sovereigns, I don’t like the way they treat humans. You don’t deserve that life. As I said, I’ll protect you. But I’m not sure how long you can run from them, Starlight. They’ll send their soldiers after you, and I doubt they’ll care much for the condition you’re in so long as you arrive at the castle.”
I inhaled sharply. “As a hunter, don’t you know places to hide in these mountains?”
Garrick picked at a thread on his blanket. “I can’t guarantee you could hide forever. Or that the royals would ever stop looking for you. We could try to cross the border and enter another fae kingdom. Ashwood is far friendlier toward mortals. Though I’m not sure they’d welcome me. The relationship between Ashwood and Silverfrost is...strained.”
The way he spoke the words made me think he was greatly understating the tension between the two lands. I swallowed. “And the other fae kingdoms?”
“I’m not sure they’ll be any kinder to a human than Silverfrost would be.”
I leaned back against the pillows, closing my eyes. Imagining spending the rest of my life on the run and in hiding, praying to distant gods to defend me. “I can’t ask you to leave your life behind for me,” I muttered into the shadows.
Garrick’s head was turned away once more, studying the fire, but I could have sworn he whispered, “What kind of a life?”
Running my hands down my face, I tried to calm my pulse, tried to believe I’d be able to escape the Silverfrost royals. They were the center of every nightmarish story told in Altidvale, the villains all children feared when they drifted off to sleep. I didn’t want to believe Charles had truly cast me off to them, that I had no hope of freedom or happiness. That my miserable life might end at their hands, or worse—that I might be enslaved or glamoured into their service.
I wiped at a tear before it could slide down my cheek. That will not be my fate, I promised myself, even though I had no reason to believe I could fight it.
“This cabin is close to your town, and therefore where Silverfrost’s servants will begin their search,” Garrick said. “In the morning, we’ll travel deeper into the mountains, to another of my posts. It will take us nearer to the Ashwood border.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather send me on my way alone?”
Garrick huffed out a laugh. “Starlight, I’m a wolf with protective instincts and no pack to defend. Let me at least see you to a safer location before you cast me away.”
“I’m hardly more than a stranger. Why risk your king and queen’s wrath for me?” When I sat up, I met Garrick’s gaze.
“Perhaps I’d like a friend, someone worth risking my life for.” He tossed me a careless, dimpled grin before turning over. “Get some sleep, Starlight. We’ll have a long walk tomorrow.”
A scraping sound against the window jolted me awake. The cabin was even darker, immersed in night’s shadows, the fire burnt down to nothing but embers. I sat up in bed, blinking bleary eyes and turning. My heart froze in my chest, a scream rising and dying in my throat.
The scraping sound came from a claw running down the glass as a headless creature—its flesh grey and sagging, like an undead thing—stood at the window. In its other arm, it cradled a head, its fierce red eyes glaring straight at me. There was a hungry gleam in the severed head’s gaze as the monster scratched its claws down the windowpane, the noise grating against my ears.
Stifling another scream, I staggered up and out of the bed, slamming against the wall.
Garrick bolted from his blankets, his gaze fastening on the monster outside the cabin. “Dullahan.” He snarled the word like a curse. “The king and queen sent it to find you.” He drew a dagger from a sheath at his thigh and seized a bow and quiver from the wall. “Stay in the cabin. It cannot enter with the protective wards placed upon it.” As he approached the door, he cast a fierce look over his shoulder. “Bolt the door behind me, and do not let me in unless I call you Starlight. It can mimic voices.”
With that, he strode outside, slamming the door behind him. I darted forward and bolted the lock, shivering more with fear than with the blast of cold air. It was in that moment, as I slid down the wall and hugged my knees to my chest, that I wondered what I’d do if Garrick never returned. Gritting my teeth, I rose, scanning the wall across from me for any blade or bow that looked small enough I might manage to wield it. What a preposterous idea—me, a sheltered lady of Altidvale who had never even touched a weapon before in her life, fending off that nightmarish monster outside. Hysterical laughter threatened to bubble up, but I choked it down.
Another shudder racked my body, tickling my spine and cooling my palms.
Low growls shattered the quiet of the night, and I lurched to my feet, scarcely daring to peer out the window to catch a glimpse of what was happening. There was the scrape of a blade being drawn, and an animalistic hiss I assumed belonged to the monster. I caught a glimpse of shadows colliding before the forms vanished out of view.
Long moments passed, my heart pulsing in my ears and my breath fogging in the air. I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, determined not to lose control to the chill that was building within me. What if Garrick was right, and I unleashed more magic?
I was almost as terrified of the thought of wild magic as I was of the dullahan hunting me.
A spray of scarlet arced through the darkness outside the window, splattering along the ground. Blood. My mouth turned sour.
“Garrick.” What would I do if he was killed? It struck me fully then how vulnerable I was, how dependent I was on having a guide and protector in this strange and dangerous kingdom. I couldn’t cower behind wards in this cabin forever, but I knew without any experience in defending myself, without any clue how the magic I supposedly possessed might work to help me, without any hunting or survival skills, I would perish if left on my own.
Or the king and queen would find me.
I squeezed my fingers into fists to stop their trembling. If I thought living with Charles and his resentment and malice had been stifling, I couldn’t fathom what life would be like as a slave or captive to the cruel, bloodthirsty fae. If they even let me live, they would ensure I suffered and served them all my days. I’d already felt trapped for the past year. I would not be trapped again.
I will die before I am their prisoner.
The doorknob rattled, and my heart leapt into my throat. Another chill snaked down my spine. “Florentia, open the door.”
The voice sounded like Garrick’s, but I knew better. My skin prickled and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that this didn’t mean the blood had belonged to the fae shifter. If he was dead, it was my fault. He’d chosen to protect me.
And it meant I was doomed, that his efforts had been in vain.
A thump shook the door, and I scrambled back. Ice crackled beneath my feet, frost tracing delicate patterns along the woodwork. What if this creature knew of ways to break the wards placed upon the cabin? What if the wards couldn’t hold forever?
Clenching my teeth, I strode toward the wall and wrenched the smallest blade from its hooks, drawing it slowly from its sheath. Its hilt was marked with the silhouette of a wolf against a full moon, and the knife was perfectly polished, gleaming in the dim room. If the dullahan broke down the door, maybe I could plunge this blade into its chest—or into one of those glowing eyes in its severed head—and run.
The blade shook in my hand. I was a seamstress, a creator. I was quiet Florentia, the young woman who strove for peace and evaded conflict and masked her grief over the cruel rumors about her. I wasn’t a fighter.
Another slam made the door quake and groan. I swallowed and squeezed the blade until my fingers ached. In the stillness, I prayed to the gods for protection. I glanced toward the bed, wishing I could hide beneath it but knowing that would be foolish. The dullahan would find me easily. There was no hiding in this little cabin.
There was a muffled groan and more thumps, but the knob stopped rattling. Garrick’s gruff voice came again.
“Starlight!” He was panting, like he was hurt.
Starlight.
I charged for the door, unbolting the lock and flinging it open. A gust of icy wind billowed within the cabin, raising gooseflesh on my bare legs and brushing silver strands of hair across my face. Garrick stood hunched in the entryway, a shapeless heap in the glade behind him. Blood gleamed on the blade he clutched.
Staggering back, I scanned Garrick’s pale, taut face.
“Are you hurt?”
He swayed on his feet, and I caught sight of scarlet dotting his shirt front. “Bolt the door,” he said, pushing into the cabin and striding toward a cabinet. Rifling through it, he withdrew a bag with bandages and vials protruding from the top. He dropped it on the table.
Securing the door, I turned to find his back to me. His shirt was shredded, revealing bloody gashes in his skin. With a stifled groan, he plucked his shirt over his head and leaned against the table. My foolish eyes, unused to seeing so much bare skin, traced the muscled planes of his back until my throat went dry. The cold that had enveloped me earlier disappeared, melting with the warmth spreading through my chest and across my cheeks.
Shaking my head to clear it, I approached the table. Unfortunately, that vantage didn’t help, as his toned chest and golden skin were just as distracting.
“Ren.” Garrick’s serious tone and use of my name jolted me to attention. My eyes darted up to his. “Are you squeamish?” he asked.
“I hardly know.”
“Well,” he muttered with a crooked smile, “you haven’t fainted at the sight of my blood yet, so that’s a start.” He nodded to his bag of medical supplies, pulling out a roll of gauze and what appeared to be a sewing kit. “I need your help. I heard your townspeople talking about how you sew your own dresses.”
I frowned in confusion.
“I need you to stitch my wounds.”
I lifted the kit, pulling out the needle and thread and gaping at them. “Your skin is hardly like fabric...”
“Please,” Garrick ground out, leaning heavily against the table. “I need you to help me clean the wounds and stitch them closed to prevent future infection. I can’t very well stitch my own back.”
“All right,” I said, my voice firmer and more confident than I felt.
Under Garrick’s instructions, I gathered water from the pump in the washroom and clean cloths. Garrick tossed another log on the fire, making the flames rise and flooding the room with better light for my work. He stretched out upon the table, instructing me on how to pour an antiseptic over his wounds and start to stitch them closed. I willed my hands to stop shaking. To distract myself, I began to talk.
“Why didn’t you transform into a wolf to stop the dullahan?” I asked, threading the needle and starting to work on his back. His breaths remained steady, a soothing rhythm I tried to concentrate on, rather than let myself shudder at the way his skin resisted each tug. As much as I tried to pretend I was working with fabric, every pull of the thread reminded me I was working on flesh, and my stomach turned. The only benefit to my discomfort was that it banished any feelings of awkwardness. I couldn’t be scandalized by the amount of male skin I was touching when I was focused on my work, and I was too desperate for the distraction of conversation to feel shy about prodding Garrick with more questions.
“A dullahan is a difficult creature to kill with mere animal instincts,” Garrick explained softly. “Claws and teeth might have injured it, but it will not die unless you’re a bit more precise, something I’m not always adept at in wolf form. That’s because the only way to truly defeat a dullahan is by destroying the head it carries. Once that happens, the headless body quickly loses power.”
I was quiet for a long moment. “There will be more creatures coming for me,” I said. Not a question.
Garrick hummed his affirmation.
“Are you sure you want to—”
“Yes,” Garrick said, cutting me off. “Besides, I already made a statement by killing the dullahan. More of their servants will search for you here, and they’ll find the body outside one of my cabins. The Silverfrost family knows who I am, and they’ll know what I’ve done.”
“I’m so—”
“Don’t apologize. I made my choice.”
I frowned as I finished with his first gash, moving on to the next. My greatest virtue in Altidvale had been in being kind and quiet and unobtrusive. Apologizing for my existence and striving not to cause trouble or disturbances was second nature.
As if sensing my surprise and discomfort, Garrick reached around, seizing my hand in his before I could make the next stitch. Warm and calloused, his fingers enveloped mine. My pulse jumped, but not unpleasantly. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d felt a friendly touch.
I was also painfully aware of his state of undress and the fact that a gentleman clasping my hand like this back home would mean something far more intimate. It would have been a declaration of affection. A gesture indicating that he wanted to court or marry me.
Heat singed my cheeks.
“Thank you,” Garrick murmured, before dropping my hand and allowing me to stitch the second gash in his back.
“For what?”
“For tending to me,” he responded, as if it were obvious.
“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be wounded.”
There was a smile in Garrick’s voice. “Nevertheless.” He paused. “Besides, there is a thrill to fighting for one’s survival. It makes you feel alive.”
“Hmm. Must be the wolf in you.”
He chuckled softly. “None of my other prey is such a challenge.”
I finished stitching up his back in comfortable silence, then soaked one of the cloths in the bowl of water, cleaning off the blood.
Standing, Garrick stretched and grinned. When he turned to face me, his gold eyes were bright. “You’re a talented seamstress indeed.”
My eyes skimmed over the scratches lining his chest, trying to focus on the injuries and not the skin. “Shall I stitch the others closed?”
“They’re not that deep. I can clean them myself, but if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate your help with bandaging them.”
I nodded, too embarrassed to speak. Garrick sat on the table and cleaned his wounds, giving me a chance to collect myself before he handed me a roll of gauze.
“If you wrap it around my body, you can cover the scratches in front and protect your stitches on my back,” Garrick suggested.
“This would be a compromising position back home,” I said, my voice sounding almost like a squeak.
“No one in Altidvale will find out about your forward advances.”
“Advances?” Cheeks aflame, I glanced up to find Garrick’s teasing grin.
“I’m jesting, Starlight. I know you’re not trying to seduce me.” He winked. “You’re doing good by helping an injured man. There’s nothing scandalous or compromising about tending to the hurt.”
Finding comfort in that reassurance—which was true, I knew I couldn’t leave him to suffer, especially after he’d earned these wounds defending my life—I stepped up to the table. My heart pounded. I was close enough to him that his knees pressed into my legs and I could feel the heat of his body consuming me. Refusing to meet his eyes, I placed the gauze over one of his scratches and then unwound the roll, reaching around his back. I realized my error a moment too late, when I was forced to stretch my other arm around to grasp the gauze, practically embracing Garrick.
I was too rigid, my footing too unsure, and I slipped, falling against him. Seizing my waist, Garrick chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest as he held me. Without meaning to, I glanced up and met his eyes, which appeared molten gold in the firelight. Its flickering glow cast shadows along the planes of his face, highlighting his inhuman beauty.
His lip quirked in the start of a grin, and I worried he could read my every thought written in my expression.
I leapt back. “Forgive me,” I gasped. Fumbling, I returned to fastening the bandages around his chest, trying my best to put more distance between us.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Garrick said.
When I leaned forward to tie the bandage, I could feel his breath caressing my cheek. I swallowed. “It wouldn’t have been proper for me to be in this cabin at all, with bare ankles and knees.” I laughed, but it came out sounding too high-pitched. “But if not for you, I would be dead somewhere on that mountain path. Helping you after you’ve rescued me—and risked your life for me—is the least I can do.”
Garrick pressed a hand to his chest. “Well, I give my word that I’ll try to be a perfect gentleman, Starlight.”
That time, I couldn’t help the way my chest warmed at the nickname. I’d spent the past year longing to be cared for and understood, and here in the space of a few hours, a stranger had chosen not only to learn about me and accept me as I was, but also to risk his life to defend me. “Try?” I asked, handing him the roll of gauze and stepping back.
He shrugged. “Well, I am part dog.”
I bit my lip to avoid smiling at his jape. Outside, the wind howled, and my eyes tracked toward the window.
Garrick noticed my look. “Nothing can get in,” he reassured me. “Try to get some sleep. We’ll need to cover some miles tomorrow.”
When I climbed into bed, bundling into the furs, it took a long time to stop glancing at the window and relax against the pillows. Finally, I drifted into sleep, dreaming of monsters clawing against the glass...but also of muscled skin and a pair of golden eyes.