But you did not run.
“Where would I have run to?” A watery laugh. “I didn’t know where I was. What year it was. I thought—when I saw you coming through the trees, I thought you were going to kill me. Big scary man with a sword, covered in blood. Not exactly welcoming.”
I thought you were a spirit. Or a faerie.He paused, searching for the right signs.You were too odd to be either.
“Too strange.” She scrubbed at her face with her sleeve. “That’s going in my memoirs, if I ever get home to write them. ‘Sir Gareth de Clare found me too odd to murder.’ What a ringing endorsement.”
There—there it was. The sharp humor returning, the armour she wore against a world that had hurt her. Gareth found himself almost smiling.
You could have told me sooner.
“Could I? Would you have believed me? Would you have—” She stopped, her expression shifting. “Wait. You believe me?”
He tilted his head, considering.You have no reason to lie. This story gains you nothing—only suspicion and danger. If you wished to deceive me, you would have chosen something simpler.His hands stilled, then moved again.And you are a terrible liar. Your face shows everything.
“Oi!” She looked almost offended. “I am not a—” A pause. “Alright, fine, I am a terrible liar. It’s a character flaw. Jennifer says I’d make a rubbish spy.”
She sounds wise.
“She is. She’s also going to absolutely murder me when—if—I ever see her again. I was supposed to text her after the party. She’s probably filed a missing persons report by now. Called my mum. Oh God, my mum?—”
Text?
Elodie’s laugh was slightly hysterical. “See, this is what I mean. How do I explain texting? It’s—it’s sending written messages. Instantly. Across vast distances. Through the air. Using little devices that fit in your hand.”
Gareth’s eyebrows rose at the fantastical thought.
“I know, I know. Magic. It’s not magic, it’s... spinach.” She pressed her palm to her forehead. “Science. Technology. Things that took years to develop. Things I took completely for granted until I landed in a world without indoor plumbing or painkillers or chocolate.”
Chocolate?
“It’s—” She waved her hand. “A food. A wonderful, perfect food. From beans that grow in far-off lands. It doesn’t exist here yet. Won’t exist here for hundreds of years.” Her voice went wistful. “I would genuinely consider selling a minor organ for a decent cup of hot chocolate right now.”
Gareth filed this information away with all the other strange fragments she’d shared. A world of instant messages and miraculous foods and buildings tall enough to scrape the sky. A world she might never see again.
You are homesick,he signed.
The word seemed to strike her like a physical blow. Her eyes filled with fresh tears.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’m... I’m so bloody homesick I can hardly breathe sometimes. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I can’t go home. Not yet. Maybe not ever. The necklace is gone, and I don’t know how the magic works, and even if I did—” She stopped, her gaze dropping to his scarred throat. “Even if I could leave tomorrow, I’m not sure I...”
She didn’t finish the thought.
Gareth’s heart did something complicated in his chest. Something that felt dangerously like hope.
You could stay, he signed.
“I—” Her voice caught. “I don’t know if I can. But I know I don’t want to go. Not yet. Not...” She met his eyes, and he saw it there—the same impossible, terrifying thing he’d been trying not to name. “Not while there’s still so much I want to learn here.”
He should step back. He should put distance between them, protect himself from this woman who might vanish into the storm as suddenly as she’d appeared. She was not of his world. She had a life somewhere else, somewhen else—people who loved her, a purpose that had nothing to do with a scarred lord in a crumbling castle.
But Gareth de Clare had spent three years choosing safety. Choosing silence. Choosing walls.
He was so very tired of walls.
Then stay,he signed.For now. Learn what you wish.His hands hesitated, then shaped one final thought.I will keep your secret.
Elodie stared at him. The tears had stopped, but her face was still wet, still vulnerable in a way that made his chest ache.
