It was not meant as one.
“And yet.” She squeezed his hand briefly before pulling away. “So. We have a plan. Sort of. We let Alaric think he’s clever, we watch where his eyes go, and we prepare for whatever treachery he’s planning.” She paused. “What do you think he actually wants? Beyond Greywatch, I mean. Beyond revenge. What’s the endgame?”
Gareth considered the question. He had asked it of himself a thousand times over three years, turning the problem over in his mind like a stone that would not smooth.
Power,he signed finally.Alaric wants power. Greywatch is strategic—it controls the northern passes, the trade routes to Scotland. Whoever holds Greywatch holds the key to the north.
“And you hold that key.”
I hold it. But I cannot speak to defend it. Cannot negotiate, cannot treat with neighboring lords, cannot represent myself at court.His hands moved faster, frustration bleeding through.Alaric knows this. He has been telling anyone who will listen that Greywatch needs a proper lord. One who can speak for it. One who can serve the crown as a lord should.
“That’s...” She trailed off, her expression shifting as she understood. “That’s actually quite clever. He’s not trying to take Greywatch by force. He’s trying to have you removed. To make the crown think you’re unfit to hold it.”
Aye.
“But you’ve held it for three years. You’ve defended it, managed it, kept the peace?—”
In silence.The sign was bitter.A silent lord is a weak lord, in the eyes of many. I cannot rally men with speeches. Cannot charm visiting nobles. Cannot do any of the things that lords are expected to do.
“You can do them,” she said fiercely. “Just differently. Through signs, through writing, through—through me, if you’ll let me.”
Why?he signed.Why do you care so much about this? About me? You could return to your own time, if the magic allows. You could leave all of this behind.
She was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft.
“Do you know what I was, in my time? Before I fell?” She didn’t wait for his response. “I was an afterthought. A joke. ‘The fairy girl’ who asked uncomfortable questions and got dismissed for it. I was brilliant and lonely and so desperate to be seen thatI talked until my throat hurt, and it still wasn’t enough.” She met his gaze. “Then I fell through time, and I landed here. And you... you saw me. From the very first moment. You looked at me as if I mattered.”
You do matter.
“I know.” A small smile crossed her face. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. For the first time in my life, I feel like I actually matter to someone. And I’m not giving that up. Not for aeroplanes or mobile phones or indoor plumbing.” Her smile widened. “Well. Maybe for indoor plumbing. The chamber pots are genuinely horrific and the garderobe is cold and drafty.”
He should not laugh, could not laugh—his voice would not allow it. But something escaped him anyway, a rough exhale that was almost, almost a sound of amusement.
You are extraordinary,he signed.
“I’m really not.”
You are.He held her gaze, letting her see the truth of it.You are extraordinary, Elodie Hart. And I am... grateful. That you fell into my forest.
Her eyes had gone suspiciously bright. “Well,” she said, her voice slightly unsteady. “That’s... that’s quite possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. In any century.”
They sat in silence for a moment—comfortable silence, the kind that had become familiar between them. The candles flickered. The maps lay forgotten on the table. Outside, the warm night air carried the scent of things growing in the garden and the distant bleating of sheep settling for the night.
Tomorrow, Gareth signed finally.Alaric comes tomorrow.
“Tomorrow.” She straightened in her chair, her expression shifting from soft to determined. “Right. We should probably get some sleep, then. Big day. Snakes to face. Treachery to thwart.” She stood and hesitated. “Gareth?”
He looked up at her.
“Whatever happens tomorrow—whatever he says, whatever he tries—I meant what I said on the steps. You’re a good man. Don’t let him make you forget that.”
Before he could respond, she reached out and covered his hand with hers. Her fingers were warm against his scarred knuckles.
“We’ll be ready,” she said. “Both of us. Together.”
Then she was gone, her footsteps fading down the corridor, leaving him alone with his maps and his candles and a heart that felt too large for his chest.
Tomorrow, Alaric would arrive, and their carefully laid plans would be put to the test. On the morrow, Gareth would face the man who had tried to murder him, and he would do so with Elodie at his side.
