“You know,” she said quietly, “I’ve spent five years trying to make myself smaller. Quieter. Less... myself. Trying to fit into a space that was never meant for me. And then I fell through time—literally fell through bloody time, which is still completely mental, by the way—and landed here. With you. A man who communicates in silence and somehow still hears me better than anyone ever has.”
She laughed. “The universe has a terrible sense of humor.”
Finally, Gareth dropped his hand and stepped back. But the distance felt different now—not a barrier, but a choice. Space he was giving her because she might need it, not because he wanted it.
You should sleep,he signed.Tomorrow, more words.
“Yes.” She pulled the blanket around herself, suddenly aware of the chill. “Tomorrow.”
He walked her to the staircase, his hand hovering at the small of her back—protective without being possessive. At the top of the stairs, she paused.
“Gareth?”
He turned.
“I’m glad I fell through time,” she said. “I’m glad I landed here. With you. I mean, the whole situation is absolutely barking mad, and I still have no idea how to get home, and I’m fairlycertain I’m going to say something historically inaccurate and get burned as a witch—” She caught herself. “But still. I’m glad.”
Something cracked in his expression—the barest fracture in the ice he’d built around himself. His hands lifted, shaped a response, then fell to his sides.
Instead, he simply inclined his head. A gesture that somehow contained multitudes.
Elodie descended the stairs with her heart beating wildly in her chest. When she reached her chamber, she found she was smiling—a real smile, not the defensive grimace she’d perfected over years of professional dismissal.
She crawled into bed and touched the fire opal ring on her finger, the ring he’d given her. In the darkness, it seemed to pulse with its own inner warmth.
Sleep, when it finally came, was dreamless and deep.
And in the morning, when she made her way to the great hall for breakfast, she found Gareth already waiting for her, his hands moving through the vocabulary they’d built together.
Good morning,he signed as she approached.I have been practicing.
He showed her a new sign—one she hadn’t taught him. His hand moved from his heart outward, palm open.
Trust,he signed.This is trust, yes?
Elodie felt her throat tighten. “Yes,” she managed. “That’s trust.”
Good.His gaze held hers, that pale fierce intensity she was learning to read.I wanted to learn that one.
“Right. Yes. Good.” She was babbling again. Brilliant. “I can teach you more today, if you’d like. We’ve got the basic vocabulary down, and I was thinking we could start on more complex concepts—emotions, abstracts, that sort of thing. Though I warn you, the sign for ‘annoying woman who won’tstop talking’ is quite complicated, lots of hand movements, very advanced?—”
Before she could finish, the great hall doors banged open. Miles, the captain of the guard, strode in with a rolled parchment clutched in his fist. His face was grim beneath his red beard.
“My lord.” He stopped before Gareth, breathing hard. “A messenger arrived at dawn. From Dunharrow Keep.”
Gareth’s expression went cold as winter stone. He took the parchment and broke the seal, his eyes scanning the contents. Whatever he read made his jaw tighten, a muscle ticking beneath his scar.
He handed the message to Elodie.
The handwriting was elegant, the words courteous.Lord Alaric de Montrevain, by the grace of God, Lord of Dunharrow, extends his warmest greetings to Sir Gareth de Clare... requests the honor of a meeting... old grievances that should be laid to rest... in the spirit of Christian fellowship...
“He wants to meet,” Elodie said, her voice flat. “Here. At Greywatch.”
Gareth’s hands moved in sharp, controlled gestures.The snake comes to the garden.
Miles shifted his weight. “My lord? What shall I tell the messenger?”
For a long moment, Gareth didn’t move. Then he signed, his movements deliberate.
