Chapter Twenty-Five Garrick
Chapter Twenty-Five
Garrick
It would be so easy to force her to stay, and the temptation burned bright. I’d just gotten the first glimpse of Lohka I’d
had in a hundred years. My people were still there, and the castle desperately needed my magic. Impatience demanded action.
But I had just sworn not to harm her, and while she likely thought I merely meant physical pain, that was not what the vow
had been at all. Already, I could feel her fear as the vow settled into my bones.
If I wanted her help—and I did with feral desperation—then I would have to let her go.
Temporarily, at least.
Even if it went against my every instinct.
She took a step back, the dagger still between us, and regret sloshed uncomfortably through my chest. I’d returned to find
the courtyard burning, Grim grievously wounded, and Riela disappearing through the door.
Last night, the hope she’d fostered had grown into something new and fragile, which had only made the betrayal all the more
potent. This wasn’t the first time my enemies had used someone seemingly innocent to infiltrate my castle, and pain and rage—both
at her and at myself for being foolish enough to trust again—had obliterated everything except vengeance. She’d instantly
become an enemy, a threat.
I’d hurt her. She’d told me her wrist was broken, but I hadn’t listened, nor had I stopped for a moment to consider that she
might not be working against me. It was not my first failure, but it might be my most costly.
And her scream would live in my nightmares.
I shifted, and she flinched back, even with the blade between us. I’d harmed a guest in my home, and both honor and instinct demanded that I fix it, but she no longer trusted me. Anything I tried right now would only make it worse.
“Will you go get my pack and cloak for me?” she asked. Her gaze darted to the side. As soon as I left, she would bolt.
I pulled the requested items to me with magic, and her mouth compressed in dismay. Pushing her now would do more harm than
good, so I carefully set the bag and cloak on the ground, then backed up a few steps, my hands loose at my sides.
She eyed me. “What are you doing?”
“Being nonthreatening.”
She snorted. “It’s not working.”
That tiny glimpse of returning humor gave me hope that maybe I hadn’t broken her trust beyond repair.
Grim moved around me with a low chuff, and Riela’s frame lost a tiny bit of tension. “Are you okay?” she asked the jurhihoigli.
He chuffed at her again, and she reached out with trembling fingers to pat his head. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.
Her magic rose, then she blew out a slow, frustrated breath and eyed me. “Hold out your hand, palm down,” she said, gesturing
with the blade.
I extended an arm, and her eyes narrowed as her fingers tightened around the dagger’s hilt. “Don’t try anything,” she warned.
“On my honor,” I reassured her, locking my body into stillness.
She watched me warily for a moment before moving close enough to press a single finger to the back of my hand. Her magic rose
again, and a raw roast appeared on a plate by her feet.
She jerked away from me, then pointed Grim to the roast. “That’s for you,” she told him in a quiet voice. “I hope you like
it. Don’t eat any unwary humans while I’m gone, okay?”
Grim tore into the meat while Riela shrugged on her pack without sheathing the dagger. She did the same with the cloak, then
she stepped back as if to flee.
“Wait,” I demanded, then softened my tone. “Please.”
I pulled the precious bundle of freshly picked chochapa flowers from the pouch at my hip and quickly wove them into a simple circlet infused with my power. “This will hide your magic from Feylan.”
“And from you?” she asked.
I hesitated, then told her the truth. “No.”