The corner of his mouth lifted. Whether that was approval at my weapon or amusement at my arrogance, either way, it annoyed me.
“That is not what you said the other night.”
Alize laughed, the sound echoing through the darkened hallway.
Nimra looked over her shoulder, unable to ignore us any longer. The implication was enough to make me consider stabbing him with my new icy weapon.
The most irritating part was that Ihadbeen thinking of him when I fell asleep that night in the snow. It was his impossibly large hand I’d dreamed of sliding up my thigh in the moments before cracking ice had awoken me to the attack.
In the dormitory the night before, I’d tossed from side to side, sleep forestalled by the thoughts that refused to quiet. Was Garrick as conflicted as me? Who or what had compelled him through the gates? The more I thought on it, the more certain I was that the wellbeing of the continent of Velora was not sufficient motivation to force someone like Garrick through the gates. He had someone or something he cared for enough to abandon a life of abundance, albeit fraught with danger. It was just possible that there was more to Garrick than hulk and sarcasm and the next bounty. The empathy I tried not to feel for him, the connection… that was just as dangerous as the attraction. Intensified it, really.
Even in the dark corridor, about to walk out to the Justice Gate and whatever fresh horrors awaited, I wondered what he would taste like, if I could reach his lips if I stood on tiptoe, or if I’d have to thread my hands into his hair and tug him down…
A low chuckle filled the heavy air between us. The thought of stabbing him sounded better again. But if I had his protection, I’d be foolish not to take advantage of it.
So I hissed through my teeth instead.
Garrick stared down at me, pinning me in place with that intensity that I still had not found a way to escape. He didn’t flinch away. His pupils widened—because the corridor was dark and his eyes were adjusting—not because of any rush of feelingor attraction. Despite the traitorous responses of my body, Garrick had shown absolutely no indication that the physical feelings were reciprocated.
And there was more than a little bite to his tone as he leaned into my space, completely unintimidated by me, and said, “Charming.”
I gave him the back of my head.
Which earned another infuriating chuckle so low, I was certain I was the only one who could hear it.
Varian appeared at the front of the line, which acted as some sort of silent signal to the acolytes. We all moved out the door, the walls of green cloaks on either side guiding us. Tomin winked from my left before putting on his composed mask of neutrality.
I pulled my cloak—Garrick’s cloak—tight over my shoulders as we exited into the frigid morning. At the Mercy Gate, we’d emerged into a different world, the buildings of Canmar wiped away by the gods. The Justice Gate did the same. Gone were the woods we’d trudged through the day before. The acolytes took up places behind us, forcing all the supplicants to turn and face the rising edifice.
The stone wall was unremarkable. Unlike the wall of ice, it did not expand outward endlessly in either direction. There was a round tower at each corner, crenulations overhead. A perfectly ordinary curtain wall in the standard configuration of a stone fortress. The Justice Gate was even wide open, the portcullis pulled up to allow passage. But I spotted easily what the others, with their human eyes, could not.
Dangling just inside the gate was a noose.
CHAPTER 24
“You enter as one.”
That was all the direction Varian gave us before turning back toward the rear entrance of the temple. Unlike the Mercy Gate, she did not wait to see if we complied. Two guards—different faces but the same in every other measurable way—watched from a few feet behind the line of acolytes.
I avoided Tomin’s eyes as I turned back to face the gate. I could not risk seeing whatever emotion he allowed to seep into those big, golden eyes.
I’d have hung back, watching the others approach and assessing my chances, despite what Varian said. But Garrick did not allow that. He cupped my elbow. I shook him off, but either way, we started forward.
“I bet we get to pick one of us to hang,” Nash said as we passed beneath the portcullis.
“This isn’t the Sacrifice Gate,” Nimra bit back, but the rest of us remained silent.
Daylight brightened as we emerged into the courtyard of the fortress. Velora was lucky to get one day of sunshine in a month. It shone down on what we hadn’t been able to see before. Not one noose, but five. One for each of us.
“Care to take another guess?” Nimra prodded, glaring at Nash. He gnashed his teeth at her.
Something more had happened between them since the Mercy Gate. But Nimra had not spoken directly to me since I’d revealed myself as a witch. The enmity was still there between the two of them, but Nimra’s fear had transformed into something sharper. I hoped Nash had a bruise or wound somewhere as evidence, even if I couldn’t see it.
The nooses dangled in an evenly spaced line. No platform was necessary. A wide trench cut into the ground on the other side of the wooden structure that held up the nooses. Beyond that, five chairs stood empty. Waiting.
Besides the five of us, not a single person was in the courtyard. No priest or priestess, no acolyte, no gods given form. Just us, five nooses, and five chairs.
Nooses or chairs. It was not a difficult choice.
