Once the court vampires disappeared into their carriages and bumbled away from the courtyard, Garroway locked onto a mouse skittering across the top of the wagon belonging to the vampire named Glintov. The mouse—an unplanned visitor—went along for the carriage ride. Garroway began to see the world through our new friend’s little eyes.
As the carriage drew further out from Manor Marquin and closer to Olhav, Skartovius dictated what was going on bylistening to his bloodthrall’s thoughts—vague and threadbare as they were these days with his underfed connection.
Hand lightly touching Garro’s bald pate, Skar said, “They’re nearing Olhav.”
That was thirty minutes ago. Silence has reigned since then, making me more anxious. Now, a sheen of perspiration drips from Garro’s pale face. His eyes dart under his lids and his jaw clamps.
Skar gives a dubious smile. “Glintov is not heading for his estate. Quite good.”
“Is it?” My voice is harried, breathless. “Because Garro is not lookingquite good, Skar.”
“He’s fine.” Skar grits his teeth, proving to me things arenotfine. If the nobleblood can feel the turmoil in Garro’s thoughts, I can only imagine how much worse it is in Garro’s mind.
“The connection is getting too stretched,” I say, flaring my nostrils. “Don’t push him further than he can go.”
With every extra mile separating us and the mouse, the further the carriage treks away from us, I know Garroway’s beast-charming grows weaker and more dangerous. I don’t know what happens if a connectionbreaks, and I don’t want to find out.
My nails bite divots into my palms, fists at my sides. I’m ready to lash at Skar for putting the man we both love in unnecessary danger, all for the sake of one of Skar’s ominous plots.
“The carriage is rolling into . . . I can’t tell.” Skar pauses, closing his eyes, trying to listen keenly to Garroway. “Northeast Olhav! Excellent.”
The Intelligence Ward,I think. My heart won’t stop racing.Alacine Mortis’ district.At the very least, we’re lucky the gray-hued Intelligence Ward is the closest district to Skar’s eastern manor. So long as the carriage stops there.
“Good, then he’s done,” I say. “Get him out of there.”
“Just a bit . . . further,” Skar grunts, as his eyes clench just as hard as Garroway’s.
Garro lets out a whimper. His body trembles.
“Carriage is parking,” Skar mumbles. His hand squeezes tighter on Garro’s skull, spindly fingers splayed, stretching across his pale dome like a spider sucking his brains out.
Garroway’s mouth falls open with a wretched gasp slipping past his lips. He begins to teeter backward into Skar’s legs.
“Skartovius!” I shout.
The noble’s bloodshot eyes wrench open, his hand pulling back abruptly from Garro’s head. There’s shock on Skar’s face, and some confusion. “I . . . don’t know how to get him out.”
I rush forward, raising my hand, ready to slap Garroway across the cheek. Instead, I crouch and gently cup both sides of his face, drawing his lips toward mine. Something intuitive tells me violence is not the answer. I whisper, “Garroway, come back to us,” into his slack mouth, mustering all the calm and certainty into my voice as I can in the harrowing moment.
Nothing. Just quietness and the thumping of my heart slamming against my ribs. Anger fills my veins—furious Skartovius could be so greedy and self-serving to let it come to this.
I open my mouth toyellthe command at Garroway—
His eyes flutter open before I can.
My heart launches to my throat. “G-Garro?”
He looks around in a daze, eyes wild and unfocused. His gaze takes in the tomes on the shelves behind me, before slowly meeting my level eyes. I keep his face sandwiched between my palms, giving him a pitying look.
I’m close to tears and I don’t know why. He’salive.
But have we made him witless by pressing him too far?
Instinctively, my hand massages the top of his head. “Please, cub, say something if—”
“Glintov is meeting with Alacine Mortis,” Garro croaks in a dry, raspy voice.
Behind him, Skartovius brackets Garro’s shoulders, crouching and keeping him sitting upright while he continues to sway in place like a lost soul. “Then our assumptions are confirmed. Glintov is a traitor to my court, gone to dispatch the news of your imminent meeting with Overlord Barnabac to his true liege . . .”
