Chapter 34
Sage
Sir Yarrow asked when my marks first awakened, how many times I’d manifested before the attack, and I answered carefully, giving him as little as I could. Recently. Only a handful of times.
He nodded, his gaze softening. “So you’re new, still learning your way around the Garden. That must have made it all the more disorienting.”
His smile widened slightly, like I’d confirmed something he’d already suspected, and he looked overly pleased with himself.
“Where in the realm are you?” he asked, his tone gentle, almost casual, like it was just another routine question. “So I know where to send word if I need to reach you outside the Garden, during waking hours.”
My chest tightened. “There’s no need to trouble yourself with messages to anyone but Sir West.” I glanced up at West, praying that both men would accept that I wanted Sir Yarrow to contact me through my unwanted knight guardian.
Yarrow’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly and his lips pursed. Something flickered across his expression, but I couldn’t tell what.
“Of course,” he purred. “But just in case, I may need to contact your family?”
“Sir West is a more accessible contact. My family is… quite busy.”
Yarrow’s gaze dropped to my clasped hands, lingering on my lap for a too-long, uncomfortable moment before rising back up.
“I understand,” he said. “Some women prefer their privacy. I… respect that.”
But the slight emphasis on “respect” didn’t make the word sound respectful. It sounded like he wanted to say something else, like he was storing the information away, adding it to a list that I was sure I wasn’t going to like.
“I’ve spoken with the men who rescued you.” Yarrow’s gaze flickered back up to Rider. “Their accounts were helpful, though of course they arrived after much of the… unpleasantness… had already occurred.”
And by unpleasantness he meant being hung under a waterfall, slapped and groped and cut in Wells’ disgusting plan to force me to mate bond with him and the seven other men in the sacred chamber.
My stomach twisted tight, and I fought to keep my breathing steady. I didn’t want to think about how close I’d gotten to being trapped — or how close I’d gotten to being murdered if the spell hadn’t worked because I was actually human.
“Your rescuers described finding you in the sacred pool chamber and the fight that followed.” His tone stayed light, like we were discussing the weather instead of a bunch of men attacking a single woman.
He leaned back in his chair, watching me with an intensity that made my insides squirm.
“A terrible thing to endure,” he tutted.
My pulse pounded. He was watching me too closely, waiting for something. I just didn’t know what.
“The witnesses reported you killed Wells,” he said. “With his own dagger.”
Somewhere beyond the parlor walls, voices, muffled and distant, passed in the corridor.
I nodded, not trusting my voice, my throat tight with the memory of my anger and desperation and fear that I’d be trapped with a man like Wells for the rest of my life.
“What a terrible thing to endure,” Yarrow said again, shaking his head in false sympathy — it had to be false, nothing about him felt genuine. “I want to assure you that the Order is working diligently. Addax has already been apprehended.”
His chin lifted slightly as he said it and Rider huffed.
“Addax was injured,” Rider said. “I practically handed him to you on a platter.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and a vein in Sir Yarrow’s temple twitched.
“And what about Crane?” Rider asked. “He and Wells were the leaders.”
Yarrow’s gaze shifted to him, and his smile stayed in place, but his fingers went still against the arm of his chair. “The investigation is ongoing. Crane will be found.”
“He was in the Garden last night.” Rider didn’t raise his voice, but something in his tone made a chill run down my spine. “Didn’t West inform the Order?”
Sir West grunted and I could only assume it was a confirmation since I wasn’t going to look away from Sir Yarrow to confirm.
The muscles in Yarrow’s jaw flexed, and he brushed something— probably an imaginary something since I couldn’t see any lint — from his knee. “The Order is aware.”
“And?” Rider growled.
The fire crackled in the hearth, and a log shifted, sending sparks up the chimney.
I waited for more, for reassurance, for a plan, for some indication that Sir Yarrow and the Order of the Sacred Grove was actually doing something to find the men who’d attacked me.
“It would help,” Yarrow said after an uncomfortable drawn-out moment, “if you could provide more details about your encounter with Wells and Crane before the attack. Had you spoken with them previously? Did they approach you in the Garden?”
So this was going to be his angle. He was going to suggest I encouraged them, that I invited the attack.
“They’d talked to me a couple of times,” I said, fighting to keep my voice even. “But I told them I wasn’t interested.”
“And did you tell anyone about those encounters?” he asked. “Report them to anyone?”
I swallowed, my throat tightening. I should have said something. It was my responsibility, somehow, and lying and using Rider’s name as a shield hadn’t been the right way to go about it.
“No,” I forced out.
Yarrow made a small sound. It wasn’t quite agreement, but it wasn’t quite skepticism, either. A sound that he made deliberately to keep me unbalanced.
He asked again about my family — not where they lived, since he’d already heard my deflection on that — but whether anyone in the Garden knew me. Whether I had kin who manifested here. Friends. Anyone who might vouch for me.
Except I had no one. No one to confirm my story or say who I was or where I came from.
“I’m new to the Garden…” I trailed off, not sure what else to say that wouldn’t make things worse.
Yarrow’s eyebrows lifted. “No one? You manifested with your marks fully awakened, drawing the attention of every unmated male in the Garden. Surely someone who knows you must have noticed.”
“I’ve been disoriented. I preferred to keep to myself.”
Outside, the wind stirred the flowering vines against the open windows, sending soft light and shadows dancing across the floor.
Yarrow smoothed his sleeve again. “Of course. I didn’t mean to pry. I only want to understand your situation.”
But something in his expression had sharpened. I’d given him exactly what he wanted, and I was sure that it was more proof that something about me wasn’t right.
He glanced at his hands, perfectly manicured, not calloused and scarred like Lord Rider’s, Talon’s, or even Lord Quill’s. Yarrow wasn’t a swordsman. He didn’t fight to survive. He played games just like the High Priestess.
“I find it admirable how composed you are,” he said, almost casually, like he was making polite conversation. “Most women in your situation would be… I don’t know. Distraught? Desperate for protection? Eager to share everything that might help?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
I wanted to yell at him that I’d tell him everything if I believed it would do any good, that I didn’t trust him and I didn’t trust that he wasn’t working in the High Priestess’s interests.
Back in Herstind March, I’d been nothing, free labor, chattel to buy influence — and not particularly precious chattel at that.
No man would support me, find me justice, or care what happened to me unless it directly affected them.
And everything within me said Sir Yarrow and the High Priestess were exactly like those human men.
Behind me, Rider shifted his weight, his hard-soled boots shushing against the thick rug.
“I suppose some women are simply more… self-contained,” Yarrow continued, and his smile was back, but his eyes stayed cold. “Private. It’s a quality I admire. Truly.”
I’d seen that smile before — on men in Erellod when my mother needed a new husband. They thought they were being charming, but their intentions were obvious and disgusting.
“Enough of this,” Rider snapped. “She’s answered your questions. If you have concerns about the investigation, ask them plainly.”
Yarrow’s attention shifted to Rider, and the pleasant mask held, but barely. “I’m simply trying to understand Lady Sage’s situation. Surely you appreciate the importance of thoroughness.”
“What I appreciate is that she was attacked in a chamber that should have been guarded by the Order,” Rider snarled.
“Why are you so defensive, Rider?” Yarrow asked, his eyes narrowed.
“Why is Crane still free?” Rider spat back.
Yarrow stiffened. “The Order is conducting a thorough investigation. Perhaps if Lady Sage were more forthcoming—”
Rider growled, the sound low and threatening. “She’s told you everything she knows.”
“She’s told me very little,” Yarrow hissed, all pretenses vanishing, his expression dark and suspicious. “Where do you come from? Why does no one in the Garden know you? Why won’t you answer the most basic questions about yourself?”
Because I don’t trust you.
I couldn’t stop manifesting and I couldn’t get trapped in the Garden. I just couldn’t.
Yarrow jumped to his feet and glared down at me. “Why?”
“Enough,” Rider barked. “This interview is over.”
He stepped forward as West yanked back my chair. They moved as if they’d fought together for years, their actions quick and coordinated with Lord Rider stepping between me and Yarrow, and Sir West grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet.
I was halfway across the room before I fully realized what was happening.
“This isn’t finished,” Yarrow snapped, the cold, sharp tone of his voice making my stomach churn.
Rider threw open the door and we rushed into the hall. Cobalt jumped to his feet, the action making my thoughts jerk. He’d sat on the bench and waited?
His expression flashed from expectation to confusion when I didn’t pause. I barely gave him a glance. I couldn’t deal with him right now. I could barely breathe.
Yarrow knew. He had to know that I wasn’t who I was supposed to be, that I was human.
Except that was impossible. There was no way he’d be able to figure that out.
Lord Rider was right behind me, close enough that I could hear his breathing, rough and fast, and Sir West still gripped my elbow, his touch firm, almost painful.
They had sensed it, too. They had to have. They knew Yarrow had figured out something about me and they’d defended me.
It didn’t make any sense. They didn’t know me, and as far as I understood fae culture, Yarrow was the law.
Why couldn’t I just go to sleep and stay asleep? Why did I keep manifesting where I didn’t belong?