Chapter 4 #2
People stare at me as we pass. I’m used to it. The Grimsbane mask marks me as something dangerous. Some of the nobles we pass look impressed that Garrett has guild protection. It’s a status symbol in some circles, proof of wealth and importance. Only the richest can afford Tiamat’s prices.
A group of children playing in the street scatters when they see me, their laughter dying. Their mothers pull them close, whispering warnings. I’m the monster in their stories, the thing that comes for bad children in the night.
Garrett notices. He stops suddenly and turns to face me. “If you’re my protection, own it. Stand beside me, not behind me.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“It’s how I want it to work.” His eyes hold mine, challenging. “This guard duty thing works better if you’re my partner.”
Partner? My hands clench at my sides before I can stop them.
First the healing, then this. He’s a fucking weirdo. I move to his side and he smiles like I’ve given him a victory.
“See? Not so difficult.” Garrett murmurs.
We continue through the market. Vendors call out to Garrett, offering their finest goods. He stops to examine a display of jewelry, picking up a pendant set with small ruby crystals.
“What do you think?” he asks, holding it up. “For my mother.”
“It’s nice.”
“That’s the most enthusiasm I’ve ever heard from you.” He grins and purchases the pendant, tucking it into his coat pocket.
We end up at an eatery known as The Golden Laurel. Everything inside gleams, from the polished wood tables to the crystal glasses and silverware. Garrett strides through the door like he owns the place. There’s a chance he probably does.
The host’s eyes widen when he sees Garrett, then his gaze slides nervously to me. I can see him trying to decide if he should refuse me entry. Guild assassins don’t typically dine at establishments like this.
“My usual table, Corvin,” Garrett says smoothly. “For two.”
The host’s professional mask slips back into place. “Of course, Lord Clayborne. Right this way.”
The host seats us at a private table near the back. I take the chair that faces the door. Garrett seems unbothered by the vulnerability of having his back to the room. He trusts me to watch it for him.
We order and I let Garrett choose for both of us because I have no idea what half the items on the menu even are. The other patrons try not to stare, but I catch their glances.
When the food comes, it’s delicate and artfully arranged. Nothing like the guild’s mess hall or the street food I grew up stealing.
I pick up a small fork, examining the unfamiliar utensil. The guild taught me to kill in a hundred different ways, but no one bothered to teach me which fork to use at a fancy meal.
Garrett doesn’t comment on my hesitation. He just starts eating. I follow his example silently.
“After this, there’s a museum I want to show you,” Garrett says, cutting into his roasted fish. “You’re here protecting me for another thirty days or so. Might as well see the city.”
And then I understand.
Garrett’s not going to the museum for himself. He’s doing this for me. The guy plans to show me around Aelfheim like I’m a guest instead of hired help.
This isn’t normal. Clients don’t do this. They don’t take their guards sightseeing or personally escort them to healing temples every other day to fix old injuries. What’s his game?
I have to swallow past the sudden tightness in my throat.
“That’s not necessary,” I manage.
“Consider it part of the job,” Garrett says with a slight smile. “Knowing the city makes you a better guard. That’s what I’ll tell my father anyway.”
I need Lord Clayborne to confirm I’m fulfilling my duties. A confirmation that the contract is proceeding well and I’m competent will keep me from ending up in the crypts.
“If you think it’s necessary,” I agree.
We finish our meal in comfortable silence. I try not to think about how easy this feels.
The food is better than anything I’ve ever tasted. Each bite is a revelation of flavors I didn’t know existed. I eat slowly, savoring it, knowing I’ll probably never experience anything like this again once the contract ends.
Garrett watches me with an expression I can’t quite read. There’s something soft in his eyes as he looks at me.
We’re leaving the dining house when a voice calls out. “Garrett Clayborne. As I live and breathe.”
Two high elves approach. The taller one has his silver-blonde hair pulled back in an intricate braid. His petite dark-haired partner has eyes of amber. Her features are so perfect they almost don’t look real. They move gracefully and when they reach us, they embrace Garrett like old friends.
Or lovers.
“Teris. Sylmae.” Garrett’s smile is genuine and warm. “It’s been too long.”
“Whose fault is that?” Teris asks, laughing. His hand lingers on Garrett’s shoulder. “You disappear to your keep for months at a time. We’ve missed you.”
“Terribly,” Sylmae adds, her fingers trailing down Garrett’s arm. “You’ve been avoiding us.”
They laugh together, easy and familiar. Inside jokes and shared history that I’m not part of. I have the strangest urge to step between them and pull Garrett away from their touching hands and knowing smiles.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Garrett’s my client. My charge.
So why do I want to kill them both?
Sylmae notices me finally, her amber eyes curious. “And who is this?”
“Wolf,” Garrett says simply. “My protection.”
“Protection?” Teris raises an elegant eyebrow, looking me up and down. “Since when do you need protection?”
“Since my father decided it.” There’s an edge to Garrett’s voice now.
Teris doesn’t take the hint. “From Tiamat, I assume? The mask gives it away.” He wrinkles his nose. “How... exotic.”
Sylmae is more tactful. She offers me a polite nod before turning back to Garrett. “We’re hosting a gathering next week. You should come. Bring your... companion, if you must.”
They chat for a few more minutes, trading gossip and old jokes. The whole time I stand there watching Sylmae’s hand rest on Garrett’s forearm. A growl lodges in my chest when Teris leans in close to whisper something that makes Garrett laugh.
I’m losing my mind.
I’ve never cared who my lovers fucked before or after me. This burning need to claim and keep is eating me alive.
Garrett isn’t even my lover. He’s just some guy who chained me up and jerked me off twice in his room. That’s it. That’s the extent of our relationship. Two orgasms don’t make someone yours.
So why does watching Teris touch his arm make me want to break bones?
Finally, mercifully, they say their goodbyes. Garrett makes promises to meet for drinks soon and gives them assurances that he will visit more often. Then they’re gone and I can breathe again.
“You alright?” Garrett asks, studying my face.
“Fine.”
“You look like you want to murder someone.”
More than one, actually. But I can’t say that.
“The museum,” I say instead. “Let’s go.”
He watches me for a moment longer, then leads the way.
The museum sits at the heart of Aelfheim’s cultural district, a building of white stone and soaring arches.
Guards nod respectfully to Garrett as we enter.
The building is full of art and artifacts from before the Great War, pieces of history preserved behind glass.
Garrett walks me through the exhibits, explaining the significance of various items. He tells me stories about Aelfheim’s past like he was there to witness it.
Maybe he was. Pure-blooded elves live long enough to see centuries pass.
I pretend to pay attention, but mostly I’m watching him. The light in his face when he talks about something he loves. The passion in his voice.
We stop in front of a display case containing ancient weapons. Swords and daggers from battles long finished.
“These belonged to the Faolstone Legion,” Garrett explains. “Elite warriors who defended Aelfheim during the first incursion. They were slaughtered to the last, but they bought the city enough time to mount a proper defense.”
I study the weapons. They’re beautiful, even behind glass.
In a quiet corner, there’s a small display about the werewolf clans.
My steps slow as I approach it. I stare at the display, a ceremonial dagger that might have belonged to one of the packs.
Silver-capped teeth mounted on a piece of velvet.
Remnants of lives destroyed. There’s not much here, just a few artifacts and a brief historical note about the purges.
“The great wolf clans were hunted to near extinction for crimes against the Aeonians,” I read aloud from the placard.
“I’m sorry,” Garrett says softly. “For what happened to your people.”
We leave through a side door that leads into the museum’s gardens. It’s quieter here, away from the other visitors. Stone paths wind through carefully cultivated flower beds. A fountain burbles in the center, water flowing over carved stone.
Garrett sits on the fountain’s edge. After a moment, I join him.
“This was my brother’s favorite spot,” he says, looking up at the sky. “When we were young, our tutors would bring us here for lessons.”
We sit in silence for a while longer, listening to the fountain. The sun is starting to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink.
“We should head back,” Garrett says eventually.
I nod and follow him out of the gardens.
We take the forest path back to the keep.
It’s longer than the main road but quieter.
The trees here are ancient, and their canopy is so thick it turns midday into twilight.
Garrett seems relaxed with his hands in his pockets, talking about some historical debate between scholars regarding pre-war treaties.
I’m only half listening. The other half of me is noting places where an ambush could come from. Which is why I’m not completely surprised when they come.