Chapter 13
Cora POV
Garrion’s words soothe the doubts that had been clawing at me, if only for now.
I am still pressed against the tree, his hard body holding me there, the weight of him both overwhelming and comforting.
For a heartbeat, I wish time would stop, that I could remain in this cocoon of strength and warmth forever.
But then he eases me down, his hands steady, his touch gentler than I expect. “Are you ready to go?” he asks, his voice low, practical, as though nothing has just passed between us.
I nod, forcing myself to match his composure.
“We will need to cover a lot of ground today,” he continues, already thinking ahead, already the commander.
“I can handle it,” I reply, trying to sound confident, though my voice wavers with the remnants of everything I feel.
“There is a narrow pass across the canyon,” he says, his gaze steady on mine. “I want you to ride with me. Zeus can follow behind.”
The offer is not a request, it is protection, closeness, a tether he refuses to let slip.
“Okay,” I agree softly, the word carrying more than consent. It carries trust.
We set off, Garrion at the front, his presence commanding even in silence. I ride beside him, matching his pace, the rhythm of our horses steady and sure. The morning air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth, the forest alive with birdsong.
Garrion urges his horse forward, breaking into a sudden sprint.
The ground thunders beneath us, and Zeus, loyal and fierce, takes chase without hesitation.
My heart leaps at the sudden burst of speed, the exhilaration of the ride pulling me into the rush.
Garrion’s cloak snaps in the wind, and for a moment he looks untouchable, wild, free, a man born to command both beast and battlefield.
I press my heels into my horse’s sides, determined not to fall behind.
Hours pass before we reach the canyon. The pass is narrow, carved by time and wind, allowing only one horse through at a time. Garrion halts at the edge, his hand reaching out to me.
I dismount from Zeus, stroking his mane softly. “Follow us, okay, my love,” I whisper to him before stepping toward Garrion. His hand closes around mine, strong and certain, and he pulls me up onto his horse. I settle against his chest, the steady beat of his heart beneath the armor grounding me.
With one hand on the reins, his other rests against my stomach, drawing me closer until I feel enveloped by him. He guides the horse into the narrow pass, the canyon walls rising high on either side, shadows stretching long. Zeus follows obediently, his hooves echoing against stone.
Garrion’s breath warms the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. Then his lips brush against my skin, soft at first, then more insistent, scattering kisses along the curve of my throat. Heat blooms within me, fierce and undeniable, and a moan escapes my lips before I can stop it.
“Please… focus on the path ahead, my lord,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need and fear.
“Don’t you trust me, my lady?” Garrion teases, his lips brushing my skin, teeth grazing lightly at my neck. The sensation sends shivers racing down my spine, even as my heart pounds with unease.
“Your men are behind us,” I protest, breath catching. “They will see.”
His reply is low, certain, unyielding. “And they will say nothing.”
The canyon yawns below us, a vast chasm carved by time and shadow.
My eyes drift downward, and my blood freezes.
The drop is merciless, a fall I would never survive.
The horse’s hooves echo against the narrow stone path, each step a reminder of how fragile this moment is, caught between peril and passion, between restraint and surrender.
“Please,” I beg him again, my voice breaking with urgency.
“As you wish, my lady,” Garrion murmurs, straightening up, pulling back from me with a discipline that both frustrates and relieves.
I release a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. The narrow path clings to the canyon wall. My stomach twists at the sight, the sheer depth pulling at me like a dark promise.
“How much longer?” I ask, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.
“Just around the next bend,” he replies calmly, his tone steady, unshaken by the danger that gnaws at me. His confidence is a tether, holding me together even as fear claws at my chest.
I press closer against him, clinging to the strength in his presence, and force myself to trust his words.
“Close your eyes, Cora. Go to your happy place,” Garrion instructs, his voice low against my ear, steady and commanding.
Happy place. The words echo inside me, but where is that now? It used to be the farm the smell of fresh hay, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the laughter of simpler days. But that feels distant, like a dream fading at dawn.
My mind drifts instead to him. To the press of his lips against mine, the way he held me against the tree as though I belonged nowhere else but in his arms. His words linger, refusing to let go: “Three winters with you will be a blessing.”
The farm was once my sanctuary. Now, somehow, he is.
Minutes slip by as I sit with my eyes closed, leaning into Garrion’s steady chest against my back.
His breathing is calm, rhythmic, almost enough to lull me into sleep despite the narrow pass beneath us.
The rise and fall of his chest becomes my anchor, steadying me against the fear of the canyon’s edge.
“You can open your eyes now, Cora,” he murmurs in my ear.
I obey, blinking into the light. We’ve left the canyon behind and are moving through a small clearing that opens into the forest.
Relief washes over me, though I try not to show it.
Garrion halts, then dismounts with practiced ease.
He reaches for me, and I let him guide me down, his hands firm but gentle as they settle me onto the ground.
“It will be dark soon,” he explains, his tone calm, measured. “We’ll camp here tonight.”
I nod, already scanning the forest floor for kindling. But his voice stops me.
“There will be no fire tonight. This land is not ruled by any lord. Bandits may be near, and we don’t want to announce ourselves.” He says it so calmly, as though danger is nothing more than another fact of life.
Mika grins, ever the provocateur. “Don’t worry, my lady. We can slice and dice them with no problem.” His reassurance is half jest, half promise, and the men chuckle softly.
I nod again, though unease lingers. Fire or no fire, we still need to eat. My stomach twists at the thought, we finished the last of the bread this morning.
As I search the clearing, my eyes catch on a wild raspberry bush, its berries glistening like drops of blood against the green. I step closer, brushing the leaves aside. “Wild raspberries for dinner?” I call to Garrion and Mika, pointing to the bush.
It isn’t much, but it’s something. And tonight, something will have to be enough.
I kneel by the raspberry bush, plucking the berries one by one, their tart scent clinging to my fingers. Garrion’s voice carries across the clearing, firm and protective. “Stay close, Cora.”
“I will,” I murmur, glancing up every few minutes to make sure I haven’t strayed too far. His presence is a tether, steady and reassuring.
The quiet rhythm of the forest is broken by Zeus. He snorts, stomps, then jerks against his reins, ears pinned back. My brow furrows. Odd, he’s been calm all day, slowly growing accustomed to Garrion’s men. Something is setting him off now.
I scan the trees, the shadows between the trunks, but see nothing. My eyes meet Garrion’s across the clearing. He watches me sharply, and I shrug, forcing a smile. “Maybe Zeus has reached his limit of pleasantries for the day,” I mutter under my breath. “Stubborn horse.”
But then the hairs on the back of my neck rise. A prickle of warning crawls across my skin. Before I can turn, rough hands seize me, yanking me upright. Fingers clamp around my throat, cutting off my breath, and cold steel presses against my neck.
The raspberries scatter from my hands, forgotten. My heart slams against my ribs, the world narrowing to the bite of the blade and the iron grip holding me captive.
“Well, well… what do we have here?” a rough voice growls, loud enough for all to hear. His breath hits my cheek, foul, rotten, enough to make me gag.
“Lord Darkmoor,” the man sneers, mockery dripping from his tone. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. We didn’t think you’d bring your delicate bride through these woods.”
Garrion doesn’t move. His eyes are locked on the dagger pressed against my throat, his body taut with controlled fury.
“If it’s money you want, you can have it,” he says evenly, his voice calm, deliberate, trying to diffuse the tension. “Just let my wife go.”
Shadows stir. More bandits slip from the trees, their blades glinting in the fading light. Mika’s hand goes instinctively to his sword, his jaw tight, ready for blood.
The dagger shifts, its edge sliding up beneath my chin.
One wrong move, and it will be enough to end me instantly.
My pulse hammers in my ears. I cannot reach my dagger from here; my arms are pinned, my body trapped.
All I can do is stay still, praying Garrion will find a way to reach me before it’s too late.
“What is it you want?” Garrion asks, his voice steady, though I can feel the storm raging beneath it.
The bandit chuckles, leaning closer, his words vile. “I don’t know, my lord. Your wife is very pretty. My men would love having her in their beds.” He inhales against my neck, the sound revolting.
Disgust coils in my stomach, twisting into dread. Fear surges through me like wildfire, burning away every thought but survival. There is no way to fight him off, not without being cut down, not without risking death.
“Now you stay put, Darkmoor,” the bandit snarls, his grip tightening as he begins to drag me backward. The dagger remains pressed against my chin, its cold edge a constant reminder of how close death lingers.
My eyes lock on Garrion. For the first time, I see fear flicker in his gaze, raw, unguarded, a storm he cannot hide. I want to reach for him, but my body is bound by the bandit’s hold. Instead, I mouth the words silently, desperately: Find me.
The men shift uneasily, Mika’s hand hovering near his sword, but none dare move. The bandits multiply from the shadows, their laughter sharp and cruel.
“My husband will kill you all” I spit, forcing defiance into my voice though terror coils in my stomach.
The bandit chuckles, his amusement vile. “He will have to find us first, my lady.” His tone drips with mockery, as though my words are nothing but entertainment.
Then, without warning, his hand strikes the back of my head. Pain explodes, stars bursting across my vision. The world tilts, blurs, and the last thing I see is Garrion’s face, his fury, his helplessnessas darkness swallows me whole.