Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Garrett is already dressed, sitting at his desk with papers spread out in front of him. The same papers from last night, I realize as I blink sleep from my eyes. The records he found from the dead Valorians.
He doesn’t look up when I stir. He’s completely focused on the documents. My body aches from hauling corpses through the palace tunnels last night. Three bodies, each one dead weight that we dragged through narrow passages and up stone stairs.
I study him in the early morning light filtering through his window. The raw emotion and the breakdown in the barracks are gone, locked away behind something cold. This is Commander Clayborne and he is focused on the mission.
He must sense me watching because he turns to face me fully. His eyes are clear, assessing. “Are you sure about helping me? We’ll be executing the knights without trial.”
I hold his stare. My throat is dry, my mind still fuzzy with sleep. But the answer comes easily. “Yes.”
I’ve spent years being a weapon someone else wields. I don’t know if I’m making the right choice. This could destroy us both. But I know that walking away would destroy him for certain. I will not watch him burn himself to ashes trying to balance scales that can never be balanced.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. The commander mask slips for just a second, and I see something vulnerable underneath. “For not running or judging me.”
“I’m an assassin, Garrett. I’m not exactly in a position to judge.” I tell him.
Some of my targets were innocent or didn’t deserve death. But these Valorians… they chose their crime. At least this time, the targets actually deserve it.
“You could have walked away,” he says, and there’s something almost tender in his voice. “Pretended you never saw.”
I don’t want his gratitude. I cut him off before he can say more. “The five who are left. How do we find them?”
“I have their names. Their assignments. Where they’re stationed.” He looks at me. I force myself to meet his eyes even though my heart is somersaulting in my chest. “My initial plan was to be careful and strategic. I can’t just make them all disappear at once or it’ll raise questions.”
“One at a time, then.” I stand, rolling my shoulders to work out the stiffness. “We space them out and make it look natural.”
“They were stationed at different outposts across the northern territories,” he briefs quickly. “Border patrols, mostly. But something happened. They all went dark approximately two weeks ago and stopped reporting in.”
I frown. That’s not a coincidence. Right around the time Garrett started picking them off.
Garrett stands, gathering the papers into a neat stack with careful hands. “Their commanders assumed they’d deserted or been killed by raiders. But I think they know. I think they realized someone was hunting them and they ran.”
He crosses to a map pinned on the wall, points to a region in the far south with one precise finger. “Their last known positions form a rough circle around this area. The Frostspine Mountains. Remote, difficult terrain, easy to hide in.”
I join him at the map, keeping a careful distance between us. The small ink dots scatter across parchment. I study the marked locations from far enough that our shoulders won’t touch. They all cluster around the northern mountain range.
“You think they’re together?” he asks.
“If I were them, scared and being hunted, I’d want numbers,” I answer truthfully. There is safety in numbers. I learned that young, running in the streets of Tiamat. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.
Garrett traces a line on the map with one finger, his nail catching slightly on the parchment’s texture. “The question is where exactly they’d hide. The Frostspine range is massive. Hundreds of caves and abandoned villages. It could take weeks to search properly.”
“Unless you have a tracker.” I keep my voice even.
He looks at me, expectant. “Can you track them?”
“Yes,” I say simply. My wolf heritage gives me advantages no ordinary tracker would have. I possess enhanced senses and sharp instincts that go beyond mere training.
He studies my face for a long moment, searching for hesitation and doubt. My expression stays neutral, controlled.
“We’ll need to move fast,” he says finally. “If they’ve gone to ground in the Frostspines, the longer we wait, the harder it will be to dig them out.”
I want this over with. “When do we leave?”
“Now. I’ve already made arrangements.” He moves to his wardrobe and pulls out travel clothes. “I informed the council and my family I’m investigating the border situation and tracking down our missing knights.”
I watch him dress, stripping out of his formal clothes into leather armor and sturdy boots. My eyes trace the defined muscle of his chest and stomach before I can stop myself. After everything, I’m still attracted to him. It makes me angry.
“Wolf,” he says, and I realize he’s been talking. Asking me something about supplies, maybe, or travel rations. I wasn’t listening.
“What?”
“I was just saying we should—” He pauses, studies my face. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” I turn away as I say it. “I need to pack my things. I’ll be there shortly.”
I hear him draw breath like he’s about to speak, then exhale without words. Then he just says, “Meet me at the north stables. We’re taking Noctrals.”
I pause halfway to the door, hand on the frame. “Noctrals?”
Those are expensive and rare.
“I can requisition whatever we need,” he says with a slight shrug. “And we need speed.”
Resources flow endlessly to him like water downhill. He could use those privileges for anything. Instead he’s funding his own personal vendetta.
My mind churns, angry and confused. Why did I agree to this? Why am I helping him hunt down these knights when I should be focusing on my own survival?
But I know why. I saw him break last night. Something in me recognized it. I know what it’s like to carry blood that won’t wash off. Part of me understands his need for vengeance.
That doesn’t make me less angry about it.
I pack all my things quickly, spare clothes, weapons, and my traveling cloak. Everything I need fits in a single satchel. I’ve learned to travel light and to keep my possessions minimal. Easier to run that way, if running becomes necessary.
The north stables are on the far side of the compound.
Garrett is already there, standing beside two beautiful creatures.
They’re taller than horses, with sleek bodies that seem to shimmer in the morning light.
Their coats are silver with an iridescence and their eyes are impossibly blue, bright as summer sky.
Garrett’s hand rests on one’s neck, stroking absently. He looks up when I approach. “This is Sunstrike,” he says, gesturing to the Noctral beside him. “Yours is Dawnchaser.”
Noctrals are notoriously temperamental, only allowing riders they deem worthy. I’ve heard stories of them throwing even experienced riders, or simply refusing to move. I approach the second one carefully, extending my hand slowly. Letting it smell me and learn my scent.
The Noctral’s nostrils flare. Its ears swivel forward, alert and assessing. Then it nickers softly and tosses its silver mane. The sound is almost musical, like wind chimes. To my relief, it lowers its head in acceptance.
I mount smoothly, settling into the saddle. The creature shifts beneath me and its horn glows. I feel the connection. The Noctral is sharing some of its awareness with me. I can sense the sun overhead and feel the way it energizes the creature beneath me. It’s dizzying and exhilarating.
“They’re sun-blessed by Tavarra the Traveler,” Garrett says, watching me adjust to the sensation. “The brighter the sun, the faster they can run. But the moment the sun sets, they become ordinary horses. Slower and more vulnerable.”
I nod as the connection thrums through me.
“We have until sunset to reach the border near the fae territories. It’s a full day’s ride, even on Noctrals.” He gathers his reins, settling into his saddle. “We should go.”
I urge Dawnchaser forward to follow him.
Garrett leads us out of the city at a steady pace, not wanting to draw attention.
The morning streets are already busy. A few people nod respectfully to Garrett as we pass.
He acknowledges them with casual waves, playing the part as the Commander of the Valorian.
No one looks twice at me. I’m just another guard in his retinue.
We clear the gates and hit the open road heading south. The city walls fall away behind us. Rolling hills dotted with farms stretch out ahead, fields still brown from the drought.
Garrett glances back at me. “Ready?”
I briefly nod. I can see him expecting a conversation. I offer nothing but silence and a flat stare. He gives up and turns away.
His Noctral leaps forward like it’s been loosed from a bow.
Dawnchaser follows immediately. I barely have time to adjust my seat before we’re flying.
The landscape blurs around us. Wind whips through my hair, stinging my eyes.
The Noctral’s hooves barely seem to touch the ground. We’re not running so much as gliding.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating.
I catch glimpses of Garrett ahead of me. He sits his mount perfectly, moving with Sunstrike like they’re one creature. He looks back at me and for just one brief, unguarded second, I see joy on his face. The simple pleasure of speed and freedom and leaving everything behind.
Then he faces forward again.
We ride like that for hours, eating up miles at an impossible pace.
The city falls away behind us and farmland gives way to wilderness.
These lands are unclaimed, bordering fae territory.
Few elves venture this far. We only stop long enough to let the Noctrals drink from a stream and catch our breath.
I dismount stiffly, my thighs aching from gripping the saddle. Dawnchaser lowers her head to the water, drinking delicately.