In loss they find the cost of pride,
To sacrifice the soul.
CHAPTER 27
The acolytes sentus on our way with a small parcel of food each, enough for four days’ worth of meals between the Justice Gate and the Sacrifice Gate. Hopefully, the packs would get larger when we reached the later gates, where weeks of travel would stretch between one gate and the next. If we had to hunt or depend upon our own resources, the gates might not be the thing to kill us.
Garrick moved easily with his pack attached to his back. I was slow. He did not seem to care. He set a grueling pace as we turned northwest, following the curve of the mountains toward the Sacrifice Gate. The forest thickened as we moved into the foothills, providing cover from the falling snow that started midafternoon. At least it did not add to the deep layer that already covered the ground.
“You could use your power to make it easier for yourself,” Garrick suggested about midday.
“You could keep your mouth shut about things you know nothing about,” I shot back.
I could have used my power. But touching it felt abhorrent. After everything I’d put my sister through, after the death I’dcondemned that woman to in the Justice Gate, I did not deserve to have things easier.
My own misery kept my mouth shut for the rest of the day, even when Garrick pushed us through dusk and did not stop to make camp beneath a knot of evergreens until the sun was well below the horizon.
Garrick made a fire. I created a bed for myself using the thick cloak and the pack of food. My muscles ached, but not quite as badly as they had before the Justice Gate. I settled into my nest and told myself I was watching Garrick to judge his reaction to what we’d endured.
He moved with precise movements that spoke of experience. He’d built a thousand fires. His pale blond hair had come loose over the course of the day. Once the kindling had caught, he paused to loosen the knot at the back of his head and retie it. He left half of it loose, as usual, falling just to his shoulders. Despite the fact that we’d both spent the day hiking into the mountains, those shoulders were solid and moved steadily. No quakes of tired muscles for him.
I cursed my immortal body.
Fae could live for nearly a thousand years. Not true immortals, but for that span of time they enjoyed unnatural strength and speed, heightened senses, and swift healing abilities. Witches could live forever. True immortality. Our organs never wore out, our faces did not age from the time of our resurrection. But while the Dark God gifted us with power and sharpened senses, we could die as easily as humans. We suffered their ailments as well—sickness, exhaustion. Because while fae were born with their gifts, witches carried a curse of our own — the legacy of humanity. We were all born of woman and man.
I was so busy watching Garrick’s mortal body and lamenting the faults in my immortal one that I did not actually track what he was doing until he shoved a bowl into my hands.
The confusion must have shown on my face.
“You have not eaten at all today,” he said, crossing his arms over his body. He stared down at me expectantly. Like a child.
And like a petulant child, I placed the bowl untouched in the snow beside me. “I am not hungry.”
For once, it was true.
Since heaving my breakfast on the ground of the fortress, the thought of food was impossible. Even if a headache was beginning to form at the base of my skull. I sipped some water instead.
Garrick turned that intense stare at me, like he was trying to see into my soul. Which he could not do, I reminded myself. Even if he could, my insides were in such disarray even I could not make sense of them.
For once, though, I stared right back. He’d been at the Justice Gate, too. He’d heard the crimes. No matter which one he suspected belonged to me, they were all heinous.
But one of them belonged to him. Maybe he felt as turned around as I did.
The longer he stared, the more I doubted it. Despite my earlier ruminations on the state of his soul, the events of the day had me wondering if Garrick the Red felt anything—except annoyance with me.
He was the one who broke the stare. He picked up the bowl from the snow and walked back to where he’d set his things on the other side of the fire. But instead of sitting down to eat, he swiped up the bandolier of weapons he’d dropped to the ground earlier and buckled it across his chest.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he returned to my side of the fire, dragging his foot through the snow in a wide arc.
“If you are not hungry, then you will work up an appetite.” He stood at the edge of the circle he’d drawn in the snow. “Get out your knife.”
He wanted me to fight him. After a day of trudging through the snow, after the hell of the Justice Gate, with only breaks to relieve myself? Not fucking likely.
“I have plenty of reserves,” I said. Without thinking, I rolled my shoulders, putting my full breasts on display. As if they could be hidden.
Garrick shifted his weight, looking away quickly. The firelight reflected off of his hair, turning the blond nearly silver, and into his eyes as they scanned the clearing he’d selected. I’d never seen a color like that, where the turquoise almost glowed when in the right light.
If I did not know how much he detested being saddled with me, I might have mistaken that glint for interest, especially given how quickly he looked away. You could be attracted to someone and still detest them. The way my stomach flipped as he reached his arms overhead, the muscles of his chest shifting beneath his shirt and vest, was an infuriating example.
