38. Ash
Ash
The cell door slammed shut behind me.
The darkness pressed in from every side, swallowing what little light slipped through the bars. The air smelled of damp stone and rust. My wrists throbbed where the cuffs had rubbed them raw, dried blood tightening against my skin with every movement.
I sank onto the narrow bench, elbows braced on my knees, head hanging low.
But my mind wouldn’t stop.
Garrick’s face lingered behind my eyes—amusement curling the corners of his mouth, that sharp, calculating look when something interested him.
I had no idea what he would decide. No idea what sentence he’d hand down, what twisted version of justice he’d dress it up as.
Breaking and entering. Assault. Enough to bury me, if he wanted it to.
And Garrick didn’t do mercy. Not when his pride had been bruised.
I dragged a hand over my face, wincing when my fingers brushed the dried blood beneath my nose. I knew what this looked like. A mercenary, already bound to his service, stepping out of line and causing trouble. I’d be lucky if he kept me breathing.
But that didn’t matter. None of it did.
The words echoed back to me, clear as if I were standing in front of him again.
“Free her. Let me take on her debt. You can keep me, throw me in your garrison, use me however you see fit—just let her go.”
I hadn’t planned to say it. I’d seen Claire and seen the way the walls were closing in, the way Garrick’s gaze lingered—too long, too possessive—and something in me had snapped clean in two.
There hadn’t been a choice after that. There never was when it came to her.
I leaned forward, bracing my forearms against my thighs, fingers curling into my palms until my nails bit deep enough to ground me.
Offering myself up like that should have felt like defeat.
But it didn’t. Because if there was even the smallest chance, even the slimmest possibility that he would take the deal…
Claire would be free.
She wouldn’t have to stand beside him. Wouldn’t have to smile and pretend and slowly realize the life she’d been promised was nothing more than a cage lined in gold. She’d go somewhere soft and safe. Somewhere far away from men like him.
My chest tightened at the thought.
Good.
My words made Garrick pause. I saw the flash of interest across his face; someone like me was a prize to a man like him.
I was a weapon—a tool he could break and remake to suit his every whim.
It was a terrifying gamble, but it was the only currency I had to bargain with.
If he accepted, I would be willingly giving him absolute ownership of my life.
There would be no walking away from that or pretending I was still free in any way that mattered.
I’d be his, forever.
The thought should have made my stomach turn. It should have filled me with dread, with that same restless urge to run that had carried me across half the continent.
Instead, all I could think about was Claire.
The way she looked at the world like it was still worth loving. The way she’d stood her ground, even when she had every reason to break. The way she believed things could be better. That people could be better.
She was going to hate me for this, if she ever found out. Better that than her ending up in his hands.
I leaned back against the cold stone wall, letting the chill seep through me.
Please take the deal. Let her go.
I exhaled slowly, my hands unsteady for the first time in a long time. My fingers brushed against something soft tucked just inside my sleeve.
Claire’s ribbon.
The faint light from the corridor caught on Claire’s delicate stitching, every thread placed like it mattered.
My thumb dragged over the embroidery, tracing the pattern she’d worked into it. My grip tightened around it. I wasn’t someone who prayed. Never had been.
Gods didn’t listen to people like me. And even if they did, I’d never had the patience to ask.
But this wasn’t for me.
I bowed my head, the ribbon clenched in my fist, pressing it against my palm like it could anchor the words in place.
“Whoever’s listening,” I muttered under my breath, my voice low and rough in the silence. The words felt foreign. “Let her go.”
My jaw tightened, throat burning.
“She deserves far better than this.”
The cell felt smaller somehow, the air heavier, like even the walls were listening.
“You can have me. That’s the trade. That’s the only thing that matters.”
My fingers wound tighter around the ribbon, wrinkling the careful work she’d put into it.
“Just… don’t let her pay for it.”
The darkness swallowed my words whole. In the heavy silence that followed, I let out a slow breath and let my head thump back against the stone wall. I closed my eyes, feeling that unfamiliar sensation twist a little tighter in my chest.
Hope.
Fragile and dangerous.
But I held onto it, anyway.