Chapter Forty-Eight Riela #2
“If it’s taken too often, it can do more harm than good.” He ran his hands down my arms, and they felt scalding against my
chilled flesh. His frown deepened. “We should’ve left earlier.”
“You’re the one who insisted dinner was important.” I touched the flower in my hair. “At least this dinner was better than
the last.”
Garrick’s expression flattened as he eyed the dahlia. “You’ve certainly made an impression on Lord Mar. He was glued to your
side.”
“He’s up to something,” I agreed mildly. “But now I have another pretty flower for my room.”
“If you wanted flowers,” Garrick bit out, “there’s an entire garden here.”
My eyebrows rose at his waspish tone. “Those are your flowers, Your Highness.” I tilted my head. “This one is mine.”
When I returned to my room, a vase of moonlight roses had appeared on my nightstand, still softly thrumming with Garrick’s
magic. I smiled as I touched one of the rose’s silvery petals. A moment later, a folded note appeared beside the vase.
I picked it up and read the single line written in Garrick’s angular script: My flowers are yours.
My breath caught at the simple words. I didn’t know if he’d meant it the way it sounded, but I asked the castle for a pencil
and wrote my reply. Thank you. But I wish you’d given them to me in person. Who’s the coward now, hmm?
The reply came startlingly fast. If I enter your bedroom tonight, it won’t be to discuss flowers, Riela.
I shivered as I imagined him whispering those words to me while his body was pressed up against mine. But he was still betrothed
and he didn’t seem to want to change that, so imagining was all I could do.
Well, I could also play with fire, just a little, since neither he nor Bria considered the betrothal real.
Too bad because I have a flower that needs attention. Guess I’ll have to take care of it myself. I snickered to myself at the terrible analogy. Clearly I’d been reading too many naughty novels.
But I didn’t remove it, and my stomach trembled as the note vanished.
It returned with a hastily penned demand. Let me watch.
The tremble ignited into an inferno as I imagined Garrick opening the door between our rooms, silver eyes gleaming. He would
stand there, rigid with control, while I lost all of mine.
The temptation was nearly irresistible, but resist I must. Teasing with words and imagination bent the line I’d drawn, but
opening the door would break it completely.
You’ll just have to use your imagination, I wrote.
The reply was just two words: I will.
After a soothing bath, I once again went to bed when the sky was still indigo with twilight, but I jolted awake some hours
later with moonlight pouring in the window. I lay still, my heart beating wildly. I was just about to brush it off as nothing
but the residual fear from a nightmare I couldn’t remember when a howl split the air.
Was that Vastien? I scrambled from the bed and the lights brightened. I crossed the room and knocked on the door that led to Garrick’s chamber.
He didn’t answer.
I knocked again and pressed my ear to the panel. I couldn’t hear any movement, so I cracked it open and peeked inside.
Garrick’s bed was empty, the sheets rumpled.
I closed the door and turned for the hallway. I raised my magic and sent it outward. The castle glowed silver, obscuring both
Garrick and Vastien, assuming they were still inside. I pushed farther, then flinched in surprise as my magic rushed over
a cluster of crimson magic just in front of two silvery blips.
Garrick and Vastien were facing at least a dozen threats. I stopped long enough to pull on a dark tunic, trousers, and boots,
then I strapped my sword to my waist and exited the room. “Please take me to the bridge,” I asked the castle as I stepped
through the door.
I walked straight into a solid wall, bounced off, and fell onto my ass with the clatter of metal on stone. I scowled at the
wall in question, which wasn’t a wall at all but the main door of the castle.
The towering black panels were firmly closed, and when I tried to wrench one open, it refused to move. I considered trying
to force it open, like I had with Garrick’s bedroom door what felt like forever ago, but using that much magic when potential
enemies were near didn’t seem like the best idea. Especially when I was already low, thanks to the trips to Lohka.
I dashed for the kitchen. The door opened, but when I tried to step through the doorway, the very air seemed to resist. I
struggled forward. “Let . . . me . . . out!”
I tumbled into the kitchen garden with a thrum of magic. I narrowly avoided concussing myself against one of the stone planters,
but my shoulder took the hit instead of my head. Pain radiated up my neck in a lightning quick flash that left a lingering
throb behind.
I bit my lip and dragged myself to my feet. My arm moved without too much pain, so hopefully I’d just bruised myself. Another push of magic confirmed none of the blips had moved, so I started toward the bridge.
As soon as I rounded the edge of the castle, voices drifted across the lake, too faint to understand. The bridge was exposed,
but it was the only option. I could swim, but not while wearing boots and a sword, and not in water that might contain something that would do worse than nibble
on my toes, no matter what Vastien said.
At least my tunic was dark enough to blend into the shadows. I stopped at the edge of the bridge. Garrick stood on the other
end, facing three Etheri. I couldn’t see Vastien, but his fur blended into the night so well that I would probably trip over
him before I saw him.
The pendant at my neck trembled and moonlit magic wrapped around me. I winced. Garrick knew I was here, and he was protecting
me, so my hopes of a benign midnight tea party were dashed.
I hesitated. If I crossed onto the bridge, the rest of the group would see me. And while the span was protected, it wasn’t
as protected as the main island. If I stayed here, then I would still be close enough to help without putting myself in direct
danger.
I had nearly decided to stay when I heard my name on the wind. The voice was higher than Garrick’s, feminine, with an undercurrent
of anger.
They were talking about me, and they knew my name.
I stepped onto the bridge, and the conversation abruptly died. I fought the urge to flee and forced myself to cross the span.
When I got close, Garrick waved a negligent hand. “As you can see, she’s more trouble than she’s worth.”
A tall woman with pale skin and dark hair smirked. “Yet you are protecting her.” She had two cloak-wrapped guards behind her,
both carrying swords and daggers, and more people hid in the trees beyond.
Something nudged me farther behind Garrick, and I swallowed my surprise as my fingers brushed against fur. I hadn’t seen Vastien
at all, but he was here, a warm weight against my leg.
“I protect what’s mine,” Garrick replied. “Even if that thing is a foolish human.”
I kept my face placid, but that stung. He was definitely not pleased with me.
“Human,” the woman started, then apparently changed her mind. “Lady Riela, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m an envoy from King Roseguard with a message for you. According to the laws of the Etheri, you have the option of receiving
it privately, if you would prefer.”
Her eyes glinted, and I suppressed a shiver. I’d just bet she would love to deliver the message without Garrick to protect
me. I might be occasionally foolish, but I was no fool. “That won’t be necessary.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “It is of a personal nature.”
“I have no personal business with the Blood King,” I assured her.
Her smirk widened, and suddenly, I wasn’t so sure she’d wanted me alone after all. “As you wish, my lady. King Roseguard sends
his regards and requests you present yourself to the Blood Court as required by law. I’m here to escort you.”
Garrick scoffed. “By what law?”
The lady’s smile sharpened into triumph. “The law of primogeniture. King Roseguard has reason to believe Lady Riela is his
firstborn daughter.”
Shock ricocheted through my system for a heartbeat before I laughed in relief. Of all the things he could’ve claimed, he’d
chosen the most unlikely. I shook my head. “That’s impossible. I’m human.”
She held up a desperately familiar miniature that was barely larger than her hand. Distance and darkness obscured the painting
itself, but I would recognize the frame anywhere. “We found this in your cottage. Is this your mother? Speak true or face
the consequences.”
Garrick’s magic rose, and Vastien pressed against my leg in warning. It was clear that I should not claim her as my mother, no matter what I believed. But Garrick had already said that some magic users could ferret out lies. Was this envoy one of them?
I didn’t know for sure that the woman in the painting was my mother, only secondhand from my father—who might not be my father,
if Feylan was to be believed. Would that be enough to make the denial sound like truth?
“I don’t know who that is,” I said, and it was absolutely true because I couldn’t actually see the painting.
The envoy tipped her head to the side, undaunted. “Why would you have a picture of an unknown woman in your cottage?”
“The painting brightened up an otherwise dreary space. If we’re finished, I would like to return to bed.” My hands were shaking
so badly I had to clasp them behind my back.
“Did the human speak true, Shar?” Garrick asked.
Shar snarled and bloodred magic flashed around her. “This isn’t over, Stoneguard.” She gave me a cloying smile. “I’ll see
you soon, Riela. One way or another.”
She turned and melted into the surrounding woods, taking her two silent guards with her. I locked my knees so I wouldn’t sink
to the ground. Garrick’s hand wrapped around my upper arm, then we were in his study. I was too busy quietly freaking out
to do more than let him lead me to a chair and press me down into it.
“Breathe, Riela,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”
I drew in a shuddering breath as the excess adrenaline turned me into a shivery mess. Garrick leaned against the front edge
of his desk, close enough his legs brushed mine. His eyes were unfathomable again, his whole expression flat and closed.
“Tell me about the painting,” he said at last.
“Did the woman you sent to retrieve it sell it to King Roseguard instead?”
Garrick shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve worked with her before, and she’s never betrayed me, but I assumed the villagers were responsible for the damage to your house. If Feylan sent his own people, then that means he’s known about you for longer than I expected.”
“Well, that makes me feel so much better,” I muttered.
“The painting,” Garrick prompted again.
“I couldn’t actually see the painting, but I recognized the frame. If it really was the one from my cottage, then according
to my father, she was my mother.” Garrick stared at me for so long that I started fidgeting uneasily. Would his vow to protect
me extend to this?
“She died while giving birth to me,” I said, then laughed bitterly. “At least, that’s what I was told.” A muscle flexed Garrick’s
jaw, but that was his only reaction. “My father was definitely human,” I said. “And I look the same in Lohka. I’m human. How
can Roseguard claim otherwise?”
“Do you truly not know?” he asked, his voice soft.
I didn’t like the sound of that. I frowned at him. “Know what?”
He stared at me like he could see into my soul if only he looked hard enough. I endured it for a few minutes, then my nerves
snapped. “What?” I demanded. “You’re freaking me out even more than the envoy.”
“I recognized the woman in the painting.”