Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Ihear the bustling from the streets below even before I’m fully awake.
Damn it.
I ended up waking late again because Garrett insisted on staying in my arms until the small hours.
What kind of guard wakes later than his charge?
Noon bells should be ringing soon. The whole city’s celebrating Merafall this week. But the sounds outside are too loud even for a celebration. I dress quickly, strap on my weapons and head into the corridors.
I pass a cluster of maids huddled near a window alcove. Their whispers cut off the moment they see me.
The city bells are ringing outside but it’s not the pattern for the hour or the pattern for holy days. This rhythm means royal decree.
I take the stairs two at a time down to the main level. A footman nearly collides with me on the landing. He stammers an apology without meeting my eyes and hurries past. What the hell is going on? The entrance hall is chaos.
I grab a passing guard. “What’s happening?”
“Lord Clayborne,” he gasps, face white as a sheet. “He went before the council at dawn and named his son for the Archon.”
My blood turns to ice.
The Archon. It’s an old ritual in Aelfheim where rulership can be challenged. I’ve heard of it but never seen it invoked. It’s been decades since anyone dared.
The guard’s eyes won’t meet mine. “Our lord threw Commander Garrett’s name into the sacred fire himself. He’s challenging Queen Rhianelle for the throne.”
Shit. I never imagined the peaceful lord was planning something this insane.
“She has to choose by noon tomorrow.” The guard’s voice drops. “Duel or Damnation.”
“Duel... how does that work?” I release his arm.
“Tomorrow at noon in the arena. It will be her or her champion against Commander Garrett.” He swallows hard. “But our young lord is seventeen years undefeated in the Tavas tournaments. Who could possibly stand against him?”
No one.
Garrett is the greatest swordsman of his generation, possibly the greatest in a century.
The guard’s face goes even paler. “The queen will choose Damnation.”
If Rhianelle chooses Duel, Garrett will almost certainly win. He’s far too skilled and more experienced than her. The Queen will die and House Clayborne will take the throne.
She’ll have no choice but Damnation, the complete destruction of the other house. Every member wiped from existence, down to the servants and children. Even the family name will be struck from records. Aelfheim’s old ways set down by the Aeonians are brutal.
This whole city could burn tomorrow. The Wiolants have too much support, too much power, and too many allies. House Clayborne would stand alone against the kingdom’s assembled might. It would be a massacre. No wonder the servants look like they’ve seen death walking the halls.
I need to find Garrett. My mind races through contingencies as I push toward the main doors. If the Queen chooses Damnation, we’ll need escape routes. I know three ways out of the keep that bypass the main gates. Four if we’re willing to risk the old sewers beneath the eastern wing.
But Garrett won’t run. I already know that about him. He’d die before abandoning his family. The thought makes my chest tight.
I leave the cowering guard and push through the crowds gathering in the main square. People press together shoulder to shoulder for the Merafall festival.
The streets are madness. What should be a celebration has turned into panic. I shoulder through the press of bodies, using my height and the fear my mask inspires to clear a path. The festival vendors have given up any pretense of business. I catch fragments of conversation as I move.
A baker clutches his apprentice’s shoulder. “Did you hear? The Queen has until noon tomorrow.”
“Damnation. She’ll choose Damnation. She has to.” The flower seller next to him weeps openly. “My cousin serves in House Clayborne. She’s packing to leave.”
“Where will she go?” the apprentice asks. “If the Queen destroys the house, she’ll hunt anyone connected to them.”
A group of young warriors in Valorian colors stand near the temple steps. The knights are not panicking like the civilians. They look ready for war. One catches my eye and his hand goes to his sword hilt. I keep moving.
Please be safe. Please be safe.
I have to find Garrett. If Damnation has been initiated, it could mean assassination attempts from Wiolant loyalists. We need to figure out security protocols and prepare contingencies for whatever comes next.
I’m halfway across the square when I hear it.
“Wolf!”
I turn to find Kitty pushing through the crowd toward me. Relief hits me so hard I nearly stagger. She’s not wearing her cat mask but a servant’s hood pulled low. No one looks twice at a peasant in times like these.
She grabs my arm with surprising strength and pulls me into a narrow alley between two buildings, away from the rising panic.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, keeping my voice low. “You’re supposed to be back in Tiamat.”
Her eyes search my face.
“I was worried about you. Lord Clayborne hired additional protection this morning.” She’s breathless like she’s been running. “Extra guards for the estate. I answered the call.”
Lord Clayborne was well prepared for the challenge. It makes my stomach turn.
“Kitty, if you fail this—”
“I know. It’s back to the Gilded Lily,” she says, her hands clench at her sides. “But I couldn’t just leave you alone in this.”
Her words catch me off guard. I don’t deserve that kind of loyalty. “If the Queen chooses Damnation, we all die tonight. The Wiolants will come with everything they have. But if she chooses Duel only one person dies tomorrow...”
“Your person,” Kitty says quietly.
“He’s not my—” But I can’t finish the lie. My throat closes around it.
She knows. Of course she knows. Kitty has always been able to read me better than anyone.
“Garrett’s the best swordsman in the kingdom. He’ll survive if she chooses a duel,” I say firmly, needing to believe it.
“Will he?” She tilts her head, studying me. “The Queen has champions too. Knights who’ve trained their whole lives. What if she sends Shade?”
The thought hadn’t occurred to me until this moment. Shade against Garrett. The possibility sits in my stomach like a stone.
Shade is good. I’ve seen him fight, watched him move like smoke and strike like lightning.
And Garrett is Garrett. He is undefeated and unstoppable.
If they fought, one of them would die.
The two people I care about most in this world… One would kill the other while I watched.
“It won’t be Shade,” I say quickly. “She has royal knights who’ve won tournaments before.”
But even as I say it, I’m not sure. Shade is her bodyguard and shield. If she needs to send her absolute best, it would be him.
Kitty studies my face in the dim alley light.
“You’re terrified,” she observes quietly.
I am.
But admitting it would make it real.
“Everything will be fine. Garrett will defeat the queen’s champion.” I hear myself say. “He’ll win and become king. House Clayborne will take the throne.”
Kitty shakes her head slowly. “Is that what he wants? To be king?”
I think about Garrett’s late-night confessions over wine. His dreams of running away from court, from expectations, from the weight of his father’s ambitions. The way he lights up when he talks about simple things like a good meal and the sunset.
He wants peace, not a crown.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“You should find out,” Kitty says.
She reaches up and touches my face just once. Her hand is warm against my cheek. The gesture is so unexpected and gentle that I freeze.
“Be careful, Wolf,” she whispers. “You’re in deeper than you think.”
Then she pulls her hood lower and slips back into the crowd. I watch her disappear like the wind. I’m left standing in the alley with the weight of her words pressing down on me.
King Garrett.
The title sounds too heavy and formal for someone who laughs so easily.
I try to picture it. Garrett in formal robes, sitting on a throne, making decrees. The image won’t form. It’s like trying to imagine the sun rising in the west.
But the alternative is worse. Garrett dead on the arena floor or fighting a desperate last stand as Wiolant forces storm the keep.
None of the options are good. I lean against the alley wall and let myself have this moment to feel the full weight of it.
The mission is protection. If Garrett dies tomorrow, the contract fails. I go to the crypts. But that doesn’t matter anymore. It stopped mattering weeks ago, the moment Garrett smiled at me in that tavern.
The crypts can have me. I don’t care.
I just need Garrett to survive this.
I find Lord Clayborne in Garrett’s study, pacing restlessly.
The study is a mess. Papers are scattered across the desk, and a half-empty decanter of wine sits next to an untouched glass.
Lord Clayborne doesn’t notice me at first. He’s muttering to himself, wearing a groove in the expensive rug as he walks the same path over and over.
I’ve never seen him like this. The Lord Clayborne I’ve observed from a distance has always been composed and dignified. The Aldarelf looks like he hasn’t slept in days.
He’s an older version of his son with the same bone structure, the same golden hair but more weathered. The easy warmth that Garrett inherited is still there, buried deep beneath layers of political calculation.
But right now there’s no calculation in his face, only fear.
I clear my throat.
He spins instinctively. The noble who knows how to fight even if he rarely does anymore.
“You,” he calls me, like I’m a tool he’s remembered he owns.
He doesn’t seem pleased to see me. “Where is my son?”
I was about to ask you the same, I nearly say.
But I hold my tongue. Now is not the time to antagonize the Silverra who’s paying my contract. The High Elf who just threw his own son into a death-match.
“He’s supposed to be here, preparing. We need strategies—“ He stops pacing and fixes me with eyes that are Garrett’s but colder. “You’re going to keep him alive.”