29. Ash
Ash
Ipounded harder on the double doors, the sound echoing through the estate. My jaw ached from clenching it. Every window of Garrick’s house blazed with light, as if wanting to be seen.
Or envied.
It made my stomach turn. He was home. He had to be. And if he was home…
She might be, too.
I lifted my hand to knock again, already bracing myself to break the damn door down if I had to.
But it swung open.
And there Garrick was. For a split second, I didn’t recognize him.
He looked undone, his hair tousled like he’d been running his hands through it, or someone else had.
His eyes were glassy, unfocused. He swayed where he stood, one hand braced against the doorframe to steady himself. He was either drunk, drugged… or worse.
“Darling?” A woman’s voice called from somewhere behind him.
My gaze snapped past Garrick’s shoulder.
A woman stood further inside the foyer, her dress slipping just slightly off one shoulder as she fumbled with the puffed sleeves, trying to right them. Her hair was a mess of loose curls, lips parted.
“Really? This is how you behave as a betrothed man?”
Garrick laughed.
“We aren’t wed yet,” he said, like that settled everything.
Rage crawled up my spine.
“You could be getting to know the woman you’re about to marry,” I shot back, stepping closer.
He shrugged. “What’s there to know? She’s plump, eats far too many scones, and”—he tilted his head, as if considering it—“rather plain to look at.”
My eye twitched, my hand drifting instinctively to the hilt of my blade at my side. The familiar weight of it grounded me just enough to keep from doing anything I couldn’t take back.
For a heartbeat, all I could see was red.
Plain?
He had no idea what he was talking about.
Claire was anything but plain. She was warmth in places that had long since gone cold.
She looked at the world like it could still be better, as if it should be better, and gods help anyone who tried to convince her otherwise.
She was kindness where there had been none, light where there had been none, and beautiful not just in the way she smiled when she forgot herself, or the way her eyes softened at the smallest things, but in the way she gave pieces of herself without ever asking for anything in return.
He reduced her to something so superficial. As if Claire could be measured and dismissed by the curve of her body, or by something as insignificant as her weight. Garrick’s gaze flicked down to my hand, catching the movement.
“Give me a moment,” he said casually, as if we were discussing a trivial matter, “and I’ll fetch your coin.”
“Where is she?” I asked through gritted teeth. Hell, I didn’t even recognize the growl in my voice.
“Pardon me?”
I took another step forward, crossing the threshold before he could stop me.
“Where. Is. Claire?”
For a moment, the air shifted. Garrick exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand through his already ruined hair.
“She wanted to go dress shopping.”
I deflated. Dress shopping. Of course she did. My chest tightened. He turned, already done with the conversation.
“Call off her mother’s debt.”
He stopped. “Why?”
“You’re clearly not interested in her. So, why marry her?”
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression settling into coldness.
“I need someone to bear my children. She will do nicely.”
For a second, I couldn’t even form a response. Then I dragged a hand down my face, letting out a slow breath as I failed to hide the disgust twisting through me.
Of all the reasons—
Of all the excuses—
That was the one he chose.
My eyes flicked toward the woman still lingering in the background, adjusting her dress, avoiding looking directly at me now. I dropped my hand from my face, meeting Garrick’s gaze fully.
Yeah.
There was no way in hell I was leaving Claire here. The certainty had barely settled in my chest when I heard heavy footsteps.
Wait. Not one set.
Several.
I barely had time to shift my stance before Garrick’s men came barreling in from the side hall, drawn by the raised voices. Steel flashed in the light, the air tightening with the promise of a fight.
My hand went to my blade, drawing it in one smooth motion as the first man lunged. I sidestepped, pivoting, and the edge of my weapon caught his arm just enough to send him stumbling back with a curse.
Another came from my left. I ducked low, driving my shoulder into his middle and knocking the breath from him as we crashed into the polished floor. I rolled, came up fast.
Too many. I knew that. It didn’t stop me. I didn’t care. Not when his voice still rang in my ears, reducing her to something small, something less than. They could come at me ten at a time, and I’d cut through every one of them if it meant getting to her.
Pain flared as a blow glanced off my ribs, but I barely felt it. My grip tightened on my blade, my vision narrowing to a single, burning purpose.
I would tear this place apart stone by stone if I had to.
I would bleed for it.
Die for it.
Anything.
So long as Claire walked out, free.
“Careful,” Garrick called from behind me, as though this were some kind of entertainment. “Don’t damage anything too expensive.”
Rage sharpened my focus. I swung again, forcing space between me and the next attacker. I felt the ride shifting, the numbers pressing in, tightening like a noose.
Then, a new presence stepped forward. Smaller but heavier in a way that had nothing to do with size. The others parted, giving him room.
A dwarf.
His beard was thick and uneven, braided in places and loose in others, streaked with gray. His armor was worn but solid, built for someone who knew how to take a hit and give one back twice as hard. His eyes met mine.
This one knew how to fight.
“Ah,” Garrick drawled. “There he is.”
The dwarf cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders.
“Stand down,” he said gruffly.
Like hell.
I lunged. He was faster than he looked, stronger too.
My blade glanced off his guard, the impact forcing me back a step.
I adjusted, tried again—low, then high, testing his defenses.
He didn’t falter. Didn’t even strain. A fist came out of nowhere and caught me square in the ribs.
Air exploded from my lungs as I staggered back, pain flaring hot and immediate.
I barely had time to recover before he was on me again, closing the distance with terrifying efficiency.
I swung, he caught my wrist and twisted. Pain shot up my arm as my grip faltered. My blade slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor.
Damn it!
I drove forward anyway, trying to use my weight, my momentum—
He slammed me down. The world jolted as my back hit the marble, the impact knocking what little breath I had left from my chest. Stars burst across my vision.
Before I could recover came a sharp crack.
White-hot pain exploded across my face. My head snapped to the side, and I tasted blood instantly, thick and metallic.
The world spun. I barely registered an arm pressing into my shoulder, keeping me down as I struggled to push back up, my body refusing to cooperate the way I needed it to.
Damn it!
“Enough,” Garrick’s voice cut in. The pressure eased just enough for me to suck in a ragged breath, my chest heaving as I tried to blink the blur of the ceiling above me into focus.
Footsteps approached. I forced my gaze to focus. Garrick loomed into view. He crouched, something jingling in his hand.
“Persistent,” he mused.
He tossed the coin purse. It struck my chest before dropping onto the floor beside me with a dull thud.
“There. Payment, as promised.”
My fingers twitched against the marble. I could feel the warmth of blood trailing from my nose, slipping over my lip down toward my chin. I didn’t reach for the coins or take my eyes off him. Then I let out a laugh, half-choked by the blood in my throat.
“I don't want your damn money anymore,” I rasped.
Garrick’s expression didn’t change.
“If you wish to keep breathing,” he rose to his full height again, “I suggest you take it and leave.”
The dwarf shifted beside me, a silent reminder. I lay there for another second, my body screaming, my head still spinning.
I finally dragged a hand toward the coin purse, my fingers curling weakly around it. Not because I wanted it. But because I wasn’t done.
Not yet.
I pushed myself up onto one elbow, wiping the blood from my nose with the back of my hand, smearing red across my skin as I forced myself to meet Garrick’s gaze one last time.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.