Chapter 10 #2
“How are you doing?” Garrett asks, offering me water from his flask.
I look at the offered flask and say nothing. I walk to the stream and cup water in my own hands, drinking from the source instead.
Behind me, I hear him sigh in resignation “We should reach the foothills by late afternoon,”
He looks south, toward the distant peaks just visible on the horizon.
I follow his gaze despite myself. The Frostspine Mountains rise like jagged teeth against the sky, snow-capped and forbidding even from this distance. Between the dark stones and white snow are endless shadows.
It’s the perfect place to hide.
“Wolf—” Garrett starts.
I’m already mounting Dawnchaser, settling back into the saddle. The Noctral shifts beneath me, eager to run again.
Garrett watches me for a moment longer. Then he shakes his head slightly and mounts his own Noctral.
The terrain grows rougher as we approach the southern mountains and the air grows colder.
I can smell snow on the wind. The sun begins its slow descent toward the western horizon.
Our Noctrals slow gradually, their power waning as the light fades.
By the time we reach the foothills, they’re moving at an ordinary canter.
Garrett pulls up near a rocky outcropping that offers some shelter from the wind. “We’ll need to find their trail before we go deeper.”
I dismount and close my eyes, extending my senses. The wind carries a thousand scents. I filter through the pine, animal musk, and old earth, searching for something recent.
There.
Faint, almost lost beneath the natural smells of the mountains. But unmistakable once I find it.
Five Valorian knights passed through here recently. Within the last few days. I can smell the leather of their armor, horses and unwashed bodies.
I open my eyes and point northeast, toward a narrow gap between two peaks. “They went that way. Into the mountains.”
Garrett looks where I’m pointing, his expression grim. “You’re certain?”
“Yes.” I glance at the fading light. “But I can’t track them properly in the dark. I’ll lose the trail.”
“We make camp then,” Garrett says, dismounting. His voice is steady, practical. “Find shelter for the night and start fresh in the morning.”
We settle on a small clearing protected on three sides by rock.
Garrett tends to the Noctrals while I gather firewood.
We divide the work without speaking. I head into the treeline and search for dead branches.
I gather an armful, then search for kindling beneath rocky overhangs where snow couldn’t reach.
The work is mindless and it gives me something to do with my hands.
By the time I return, Garrett has the Noctrals settled and is laying out our bedrolls. The sky is deep purple now, stars beginning to emerge. I build the fire in silence, arranging the wood and striking flint until sparks catch. The flames grow slowly, crackling and spitting.
“This was Wolven territory once,” Garrett says suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. He’s staring into the growing fire, his face half in shadow. “The Ironhide Clan, I think. They controlled this entire region for centuries.”
Something cold settles in my chest. “They’re gone now.”
He glances at me and I see the question forming. “They were all wiped out nearly a century ago. Did you know them?”
“No.”
I don’t elaborate or mention that my own clan met a similar fate. That I’m one of the last survivors of the Sylverin clan. They’re all scattered to the winds or were killed when I was barely old enough to remember their faces. Some things are better left unspoken.
Garrett is quiet for a moment, watching me. “Is it hard? Being here?”
I nod once and turn my attention to unpacking rations, making it clear the conversation is over.
He doesn’t push for more. Dinner is silent. The jerky is tough and the bread harder. I wash it down with fresh water. The fire burns between us, throwing dancing shadows across the rocks.
“Tomorrow we go in,” Garrett says finally, staring into the flames. “We find them and end this.”
I don’t voice the thought circling in my head.
What if this thing he’s started has no ending? Maybe it just keeps spiraling out until it consumes him completely.
I arrange my bedroll across from Garrett, the fire a barrier between us. The cold is already seeping up from the ground. I’m checking my weapon when Garrett speaks again.
“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” he begins, forcing lightness into his tone. “About tracking. How far can you—”
I ignore him and focus on examining a knife’s edge, testing the sharpness with my thumb.
“Wolf?”
I set down the knife and pick up another one, checking the balance.
“Are you really going to ignore me all night?”
Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I hear him shift on his bedroll, the rustle of fabric. “I know you’re angry with me. But we’re going to be traveling together for days, and—”
I stand abruptly, moving to adjust my pack.
“Wolf, come on—”
I brandish the knife I’m holding, using it to cut some rope for securing my pack. The blade flashes in the firelight. If he’s smart, he’ll back off.
I’m armed, I’m busy, leave me the fuck alone.
Garrett falls silent. I can feel him watching me, but I keep my eyes on my work. Outside our small circle of firelight, the mountain wind moans. I pull my cloak tight around my shoulders against the cold and sink onto my bedroll, curling on my side away from his watchful gaze.
“Wolf—”
I close my eyes.
Silence. Then I hear him sigh a long exhale.
Good.
Let him be frustrated and feel a fraction of the anger churning in my gut. Minutes pass and I start to think maybe he’s finally given up, finally going to let me sleep in peace.
I hear soft movements next to me.
I tense as I crack my eyes open. Garrett settles down on the ground near my bedroll. He is close enough that I can feel the heat from his body.
Fuck, this is a clear invasion of my space.
He is carrying something.
Curiosity wins. I turn my head just enough to see what he’s doing. He’s setting up a chess set.
This one is handmade. I can see the knife marks in the wood, the careful whittling that shaped each piece. The board is a flat piece of bark with squares burned into it, dark and light alternating in a careful pattern. I look at the king with a tiny crown carved into the top.
Garrett made this himself.
Every piece shows careful work. He spent hours carving each piece, shaping something beautiful from raw wood.
He’s setting up the board. Black pieces on his side, white on mine. I stare at him and the chess set.
What the fuck is he doing?
He finishes setting up the board and looks at me expectantly. “Your move.”
Something breaks inside me.
I sit up fast, my hand shooting out to scatter the pieces. They go flying. The king tumbles into the fire and pawns roll across stone.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The words rip out of me. My voice echoes off the rocks around us.
Garrett looks at the scattered pieces and at me. His expression is confused, and bewildered. He truly doesn’t understand what he did wrong.
“I was just—”
I’m on my feet now, anger flooding through me hot and sharp. “I told you. We do this job, we hunt those fucking knights and that’s it.
“Wolf—”
“I didn’t agree to this.” I kick a piece into the darkness.
He’s quiet for a moment, studying me. Then something shifts in his expression. The confusion fades, replaced by something that looks almost like understanding. His mouth curves into a smile. Just a hint of it.
“You care about me,” he says softly.
My heart stops. What?
“You care about me,” he says again. The smile widens as if he’s just solved a puzzle that’s been bothering him. “That’s why you’re so angry and have been giving me the silent treatment all day.”
I don’t fucking care about him.
He leans forward slightly, his eyes bright in the firelight. “If you didn’t care, you’d just tolerate whatever I did like any other Grimsbane. Your contract is nearly over. But instead you’re furious. You’re hurt.”
I can’t breathe around what he’s saying.
“Oh Wolf, you don’t just care about me, do you?” He sounds fucking thrilled and triumphant about it. “You want me.”
Shock freezes me for half a second. Then fury takes over, burning through my chest.
“I’m not into guys.”
I throw the words like knives. They’re designed to hurt and to make him stop looking at me like that.
Silence crashes down between us.
Garrett’s smile dies completely. I watch the light dim in his eyes.
“Oh,” he says quietly.
I should feel victorious. I found the weak spot, drove the knife in and made him stop. Instead I just feel sick. He looks down at the ruined board, at the smoking king in the coals. “I guess I thought wrong. That’s on me. I’ll—”
He reaches and plucks the dark king out of the fire with his bare fingers. I watch silently as he collects the pieces one by one, setting them aside on the animal hide.
Guilt twists in my gut. I can’t stay here any longer.
I grab my water skin and walk away. The trail leads toward the river.
Garrett calls my name but I don’t stop. I keep pushing into the forest without looking back.
Water sounds ahead, constant rushing over rock.
I follow it through the trees until I stumble onto a narrow beach. The river cuts past, swift and loud.
I drop to one knee at the water’s edge and unscrew the water skin, plunging it beneath the current. Bubbles stream upward as it fills. The cold bites at my fingers but I barely feel it.
You care about me.
His words won’t leave my head.
Caring gets you killed in my world or worse sent to the crypts. I learned that watching Shade’s mother rot below Tiamat for the crime of loving someone. But my hands are shaking.
If I don’t care, why did his smile gut me?
I splash water on my face. It doesn’t help.
The truth is, I do care.
I care that he’s tearing himself apart. Garrett had everything, family, safety, love. I don’t understand why he would risk them for revenge. Fury flares viciously behind my ribs.
The other truth claws at me.
I’m not into guys.
It’s the truth. But I do want Garrett. I’ve jerked off to thoughts of him more times than I can count. I dream about his hands, his mouth, his body pinning me down. The nights we’ve spent curled together, I’ve wanted more.
But wanting him means caring about him. Caring for people is the fastest way to end up broken. The Guild taught me to be a blade, sharp, useful and empty. I never learned how to be anything else.
I’ve never learned how to want something for myself instead of just surviving. Now I do want. I want Garrett so badly it feels like being burnt alive.
I strip off my jacket and suit, letting them fall to the riverbank.
Cold air hits bare skin but it doesn’t matter. I need the shock of it, need something to override the heat coiling in my gut. I scrub at my chest, my arms, my neck with water. My hope is the wanting will wash away like it’s dirt with enough friction.
It doesn’t work. Never does.
The cold water changes nothing. I still want him. My mind is still imagining his hands on my skin.
Well, fuck it. I think I just destroyed any chance of having him.
Behind me, a branch cracks.