Chapter Ten Riela
Chapter Ten
Riela
I clutched the edge of the table as the world tilted sideways. It wasn’t possible, was it? I darted a look at Grim, then back
to Garrick. They both watched me with identical silver eyes. The rhyme from my mother’s book of poetry played through my mind.
And if you’re ever standing alone,
Against the King of Roses or King of Stone,
Say your prayers and close your eyes,
For that’s the day on which you die.
“You’re the King of Stone,” I breathed. I felt frozen in place, trapped by nothing but my own fear of stories oft repeated.
Garrick’s chin dipped a tiny fraction. “Among other things.”
“Will you let me leave?” I dared to ask.
“If that is what you wish. But I would advise against it, especially now that the Blood King knows you’re here.”
I stopped trying to get my body to move long enough to frown at Garrick. “Why would he care?”
“A focus is a powerful tool, willing or not.”
Bile climbed my throat, but I swallowed against the urge to lose what little porridge I’d eaten. “Is that why you brought
me here?”
“No, I didn’t know you were a focus until just now, but my reasons for saving you weren’t altruistic, either. You carry powerful
magic. Your death—or worse, your life—could tip the scales in Feylan’s favor.”
“Feylan is the Blood King?”
Garrick nodded. “Feylan Naeilir, King Roseguard, the Blood King, and ruler of the Blood Court. Colloquially, he’s known as the King of Roses.”
I frowned and hesitantly asked, “Do you have titles like that? Should I be calling you something else?” The last thing I wanted
to do was infuriate or insult an Etheri sovereign.
My stomach flipped as I remembered last night.
I’d thrown an apple at an Etheri sovereign.
Before I could hyperventilate, Garrick answered. “My full title is Garrick Ryv’ner, King Stoneguard, the Silver King, and
ruler of the Silver Court. And, as you said, I’m also known as the King of Stone.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “It’s
been a long time since anyone addressed me by title. You may continue to use my name.”
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn’t angry about me using his name, but now that I knew who he was, I wasn’t so sure
I could continue, even with permission. In the stories, Etheri were notoriously unpredictable, and their whims changed like
the wind. His name might be fine today, but tomorrow it could be an insult.
“What about the others? Aren’t there six of you?”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “There were. I do not know their fates. Feylan controls the only remaining doorway to Lohka.”
Lohka was the world inhabited by the Etheri. Unlike Edea—the human world—it was a place brimming with magic and monsters.
In the stories, Etheri could cross between the two at will, and those crossings were what brought monsters into our world.
And Garrick—King Stoneguard—was one of those monsters. “If I asked King Roseguard, would you be the villain in his story?”
“Yes,” Garrick answered immediately, but he didn’t elaborate. Magic pulsed, and I flinched, but he had merely reheated my
porridge once again. “Eat.”
I warily eyed the bowl. “This isn’t some way for you to trap me, is it?”
“If I wanted to trap you, I wouldn’t need to use a bowl of porridge,” Garrick said. “That is breakfast.”
He pushed back from the table, and I instinctively reached for his hand to stop him, but I jerked my fingers back before I made contact. “Wait, please. Will you show me how to create food again?”
His shrewd gaze took in my curled fingers and tense muscles. “It will be easier if I can touch you. Will you allow it?”
I swallowed. He’d been the Silver King yesterday, too, and he hadn’t hurt me. And he’d seemed surprised that drawing my magic
had been painful—then he hadn’t repeated the action. I dipped my chin in agreement. “I’ll allow it.”
Garrick settled more firmly on the bench across from me, his eyes fathomless. Had I really thought that he was just a normal
mage?
“Choose your words carefully. You just gave me permission to touch you however I pleased.” He traced a single finger over
the pulse beating against the inside of my wrist, there and gone so quickly I wondered if I’d imagined it.
I jolted as the meaning of his words sank through the shock. “I did not!”
“You did. You didn’t mean to, but you didn’t put any restrictions on my request. Try again. May I touch you?”
I would’ve thought he was having fun at my expense, but his expression was deadly serious. “Will every conversation between
us be a battle, then, to see who can trick the other into giving more than they intended?”
“With Etheri it usually is,” Garrick agreed.
“So does that mean it pleased you to touch my wrist?”
His eyes hooded as his focus sharpened. A tiny smile touched his mouth, so fleeting I nearly missed it. “Yes.”
That was not the answer I’d been expecting, and a nervous flutter settled in my belly that had nothing to do with danger and
everything to do with desire.
I cleared my throat and silently ordered my body to behave. He was an Etheri sovereign—the very thing all the cautionary tales
warned about. I couldn’t lose my head just because he’d smiled at me.
Even if it had been delicious.
I tapped my fingers on the table and focused on my wording, aware that he was watching me with a glittering gaze.
“You may touch my hands—and wrists,” I said slowly, unable to resist poking him, just a little, even if it was a very foolish idea. “But you must stop when
I ask, and you can’t hurt me.”
Garrick’s head dipped. “Better.” He extended his hands, palms up, and let them rest on the wooden tabletop. Then he waited.
I studied him without moving. “Why didn’t you take my hands? I gave you permission.”
“Because you are afraid of me.”
I didn’t bother to deny it; he was right. I tipped my head at his hands. “May I touch you?”
“Yes.” When my gaze flew to his, a shadow of a smile crossed his face. “Will you take advantage?”
Half of me was tempted to do exactly that, to show him that I wasn’t so easily cowed. But he had not taken advantage of my
mistake, so I shook my head and admitted, “I don’t want to be at war with you, King Stoneguard. I don’t want to watch every
word for fear that I will give away something I shouldn’t. I can’t live like that. I refuse. I’ll take my chances in the wood.”
Dismal though those chances might be.
Darkness settled on Garrick’s face. “I told you that you didn’t need to use my title.”
“Then you told me that words were battles, so I’m hedging my bets, Your Highness.”
He watched me for long enough that I thought he wouldn’t respond, then he seemingly came to a decision. His long fingers wrapped
around mine, and he met my eyes. “I will not take advantage of your ignorance to trap you with your words, nor will I trick
you into giving more than you are willing, nor will I ever punish you for calling me by name. This I vow, by stone and silver.”
Magic sizzled through the air, then vanished, leaving behind the smell of the wind before a storm.
“Why would you do that?” I asked, my voice soft.
“Do not credit me with kindness when I’ve already explained why you are here,” Garrick warned. “If you leave the safety of the castle, then you become a weapon to be wielded against me.”
“Would the Blood King make the same vow?”
Garrick’s shoulder lifted. “Perhaps. If he thought it would benefit him.”
“Do you always tell the truth?”
“No.” Garrick’s voice was so matter-of-fact that it startled a laugh out of me. His fingers tightened minutely, but otherwise,
he didn’t react.
I cleared my throat. “So, food.”
“You struggle to give the castle your magic.” When I nodded, Garrick moved my hands so they were resting on the table, palms
facing inward, then he cupped his hands around the backs of mine. The bowl of porridge disappeared with a pulse of magic that
tugged on something in my chest.
“Close your eyes and focus on what you want to create,” he murmured.
I envisioned a crispy piece of toast slathered in jam. My mouth watered and hunger pinched my belly. The last of my carefully
hoarded preserves had run out last fall, and the flood had destroyed most of the wheat fields. They were still recovering,
so there was neither jam nor bread this year—at least not that I could afford.
Moonlight magic rose around us, and I tensed as I fought not to flinch away. When nothing more happened, I refocused on the
toast and raised my own magic.
“Good. Now, in order to give the castle magic, you have to sever it from yourself.”
I frowned. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“No.” His magic merged with the castle, and mine did the same. The toast popped into existence directly on the tabletop. I’d
forgotten a plate, but that wasn’t what bothered me.
I looked at the waves of magic surrounding us. My magic had mirrored his, but I wasn’t entirely sure that it had merged with the castle. Was I using his magic to create food?
I envisioned a plate and tried again. But without Garrick’s guidance, my magic refused to merge with the castle.
“Think of it as giving the castle a gift of magic,” Garrick murmured.
It took ten frustrating minutes, but eventually, a plate popped into existence—directly on top of the toast I’d created. I
didn’t care. I’d done that all on my own.
Well, on my own with the castle’s help.
I beamed at Garrick, and his touch vanished from my hands. He nodded once, then stood. “Keep practicing.”
He left the kitchen, and Grim followed him out. A tiny curl of hurt twisted through my chest, but I berated myself. The less
time I spent with the Silver King, the longer my life would likely be.