Chapter 15 #2
That’s the plan. I nod politely to the lord.
“I’ve hired seven more Grimsbane. They’ll arrive within hours. You’ll coordinate them. I don’t care if the Queen chooses Duel or Damnation. My son survives.”
“Seven more?” I stagger at the number. The cost must be astronomical. That’s enough to buy a fleet of ships or a small army. Kitty is one of them.
“I’d hire a hundred if I thought it would help.” He moves to the window, looking out at the city sprawled below. “This is my fault. I forced the challenge, thinking it would secure his future. Now I might have killed him.”
The raw honesty catches me off guard.
“Why did you do it?” It’s not my place to ask but I have to know.
He’s quiet for a long moment. His reflection in the glass makes him look older.
“Because I’m a selfish old man who doesn’t want to see Aelfheim burn. The kingdom needs someone like Garrett.”
For once, I find myself in full agreement with the lord. I’ve seen the way people respond to Garrett. They light up when he remembers their names. He’s everything a king should be. But he doesn’t want it.
“You could have asked him first,” I say before I can stop myself.
Lord Clayborne turns to face me fully. “Would he have said yes?”
We both know the answer. No.
“He would have found another way,” I say instead. “Garrett always finds another way.”
“There is no other way.” The lord’s voice hardens. “The council is a nest of vipers that the queen cannot control.”
And he thinks Garrett could do it?
Lord Clayborne stares at the maps on the desk. “In five years or earlier, Aelfheim collapses. Either from civil war or famine, our enemies will pick the corpse clean. I’ve seen it coming for years.”
“So you threw your son into the fire.”
He flinches like I’ve struck him.
“Garrett could fix this. He could unite the houses, restore prosperity, give our people hope again.” The conviction in his voice doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s the only one who can.”
“And if he dies for it?” I ask.
Before the lord can respond, Garrett enters. He’s in casual clothes, hair loose and windswept, looking like he just came from a morning ride.
Lord Clayborne looks like death. I probably look worse. But here is Garrett breezing in as if this is any other morning.
“Father,” he greets calmly, then nods to me. “Wolf.”
I study him for tells. Any signs of anger at what his father has done but Garrett’s face is serene. Either he’s the best actor I’ve ever seen, or he genuinely doesn’t care that he might die tomorrow.
“Where have you been?” Lord Clayborne demands.
“Checking on the household. Making sure the children aren’t too frightened.” He moves to his desk and shuffles through papers like this is any other day. “The festival preparations are coming along nicely.”
“Festival—” Lord Clayborne’s voice rises. “Garrett, you could die tomorrow!”
“Or tonight,” Garrett agrees mildly. I watch him sort through correspondence. He picks up a requisition form and frowns at it. “But Merafall is still Merafall. The people deserve their celebration.”
How is he this calm?
Frustration cracks through Lord Clayborne’s composure. “You’re not taking this seriously.”
“I’m taking it perfectly seriously.” Garrett picks up a quill and starts making notes in a ledger. “The wine merchants need payment, the musicians are asking about the playlist, and someone needs to approve the fire-dancer permits.”
“Garrett—”
“What would you have me do, Father?” He looks up and for a moment I see exhaustion beneath his calm. “Sharpen my sword? Practice forms? I’ve been doing both for sixty-nine years in Kvatosh temple. One more day won’t make a difference.”
“You could strategize—”
“For what?” Garrett sets down his quill. “If she chooses Damnation, we die fighting. If she chooses Duel, I fight whoever she names tomorrow. Simple.”
“I did not raise you to give up!” Lord Clayborne slams his hand on the desk hard enough to make the inkwell jump. “I’ve hired seven more Grimsbane. Wolf will coordinate them—”
“No.” Garrett’s voice cuts through his father’s. “Wolf stays with me. The others can patrol but I don’t want strangers close.”
“They’re protection—”
“They’re unknown variables.” He returns to his ledger as if the matter is settled. “Wolf is sufficient.”
Lord Clayborne looks at me, as if I might talk sense into his son.
I shrug.
I’m not about to argue against having Garrett to myself versus sharing duty with seven others. One of them I trust, Kitty. But the other masks? I don’t know them.
“You’re impossible,” the older Clayborne mutters, defeated. He moves toward the door, then pauses. “Your mother wants to see you.”
“After I finish this.”
“Garrett—”
“After, Father.” There’s steel in it now, quiet but unmistakable. “The festival matters. The people need to see that we’re not afraid.”
The steel in Garrett’s voice stops his father cold. For a moment they just look at each other. Two pairs of green eyes locked in a battle of wills. Lord Clayborne breaks first. He shakes his head and leaves. The door closes sharply and the sound echoes in the sudden silence.
When we’re alone, the room seems to exhale. Garrett sets down his pen and leans back in his chair. I stand there watching him.
“Seven more grimsbane,” he mutters, something like dark amusement in his voice. “He must have emptied the treasury.”
“He’s scared.” I say quietly.
“He should be. If Rhianelle Wiolant chooses Damnation...” He trails off, staring at nothing. “There are forty-three children in our household. Cousins, nieces, nephews. The youngest is barely two.”
“The Queen won’t choose that.” Even as I say it, doubt coils in my gut.
“You’ve met her?” He looks at me sharply.
Shade mentioned her in passing. “No, but I’ve heard things. She doesn’t seem the type to order the murder of children and the innocents.”
“No one seems the type until they do it.” He stands, moves to the window. “Her house was nearly destroyed the same way, years ago.”
I move closer, staying just out of arm’s reach. “Then we fight.”
“We die,” he says it simply, without fear. “The Wiolants have too much support and loyalty across the kingdom. If it comes to house warfare, we last maybe an hour before we’re overwhelmed.”
“Your father’s Grimsbane—”
“Seven Grimsbane against the entire Wiolant forces and whoever else rallies to the Queen?” He shakes his head. “Those aren’t odds, Wolf. That’s a massacre.”
The calm way he discusses his own death makes my chest tight. “You could run. Let’s leave tonight. I know routes out of the city.”
I’ve already mapped them. Two through the old catacombs beneath the temple district. One requires scaling the eastern wall and leads directly to the forest. We could be gone before midnight. I could get him out and keep him safe.
“I don’t think I could abandon my family.” He turns to me, almost smiling. “You know me better than that.”
I do know that.
Garrett would die for these people without hesitation. It’s not even a choice for him. It’s just who he is.
“Then we hope for Duel,” I say, already knowing it’s a desperate hope.
“Yes.” He moves closer, stops just out of reach. “Which means tomorrow at noon, I probably kill some poor knight whose only crime is loyalty to his queen.”
“Or he kills you.”
“That’s possible…” He nods. “The queen has good champions. Aelfric Lightning-Foot trained under her sister. Her other guard, Darstan killed an Auroch once... Either one could give me a real fight.”
Something twists in my gut at how easily he talks about dying, like it’s already decided. My hands curl into fists at my sides. This is wrong, all of it.
Garrett tilts his head, studying me. “How would you feel about that? Watching me die?”
The question catches me off-guard. Something in my chest seizes. “I’d prevent it.”
He takes another step closer. Those captivating green eyes study me with quiet intensity. Garrett is always so calm... even when his world is burning down around him.
“Would you do something for me?” he asks.
I’d do anything for him. I nod.
“Tonight’s festival. Come with me to the royal ball. Not as my bodyguard but as...” He pauses, searching for the words. “As you. Just you.”
“But I’m always me.”
“No, you’re always Wolf, the Grimsbane.” He closes the distance between us until I can feel the warmth radiating from him. “I want to spend what might be my last night with the real you.”
Everything in me wants to say yes.
I want to walk through the festival with him, watch fire-dancers and steal moments in dark corners where no one can see. I want it so badly it hurts.
But I can’t.
Six more Grimsbane are arriving. There are a hundred ways Garrett could die if I’m not paying attention.
“Garrett—”
His hand finds mine. “Please.”
The touch burns. His fingers curl around mine, warm and solid and real. For a heartbeat we just stand there with his hand in mine. I’m close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in his green eyes.
The temptation is real. One night where we're ourselves.
But I can’t.
“No,” I say, pulling my hand back.
His face falls. I hate myself for it. “Why not?”
“Because I need to coordinate with the other Grimsbane when they arrive.” The words come fast and defensive. “The smallest mistake can get you killed. You’re my responsibility. I can’t afford distractions.”
For a long moment, he just looks at me. Then his expression goes carefully blank.
“Of course,” he says quietly. “You’re right. Professional boundaries. Thank you for reminding me what this is.”
He turns back to his desk. I stand there uselessly for another heartbeat, wanting to take it all back.
Tell him yes. Tell him I’d go anywhere with him.
Instead, I turn toward the door.
“Wolf.” His voice stops me before I can leave.
I pause in the doorway.
“I’m glad you at least admitted something,” he says.
I turn back, confused. “What?”
He looks up from his papers and there’s that familiar charming glint in his eyes. “That I’m a distraction to you.”
Damn it, Garrett.