Garrick’s low chuckle knocked loose the strands of hair that I’d tucked behind my ear. “And you will never let me forget it.”
“The privileges of being female,” I sassed back. “And having the memory of an immortal.” The sass covered the panic that bloomed in my stomach at being given yet another choice to make, another opportunity to direct events. Another chance to fuck everything up.
He drew back enough that he could look down into my eyes. My body mourned the loss of him, of the closeness. But his open hand brushed against my fisted one. My fingers uncurled instantly.
“You do not trust the priestess,” he breathed, his voice pitching even lower than before.
I swallowed, keeping my eyes on his instead of darting over his shoulder. It was easier than it should have been. “Do you?”
The corner of his too-luscious lips curved. “I do not trust anyone.”
I rolled my eyes. “She helped me. At the Mercy Gate, first to hide my coven mark and then when I lost control of my power during the procession.”
The half-moon scar beside his eye crinkled. “And I thought Seraxa had truly blessed us all. How dare you spoil my faith.” I recalled his low chuckle when I’d extinguished all of the candles and torches in the temple in a single breath.
I scraped my teeth over my lower lip. “I don’t know why.”
Garrick did not ask for clarification. “Could it have been an act of mercy?”
It was the easiest explanation. Varian had made every demonstration of being a devout priestess of the Seven Gods.
But now it was my turn to smirk up at him. “You don’t believe that, and neither do I.”
The clover green flecks around his pupil seemed to shimmer, contrasting sharply against the outer ring of cerulean. But then he nodded. “Then we go.”
My tongue darted out between my lips. A shaft of evening light broke through the trees above, gilding the green in Garrick’s eyes to a shade so bright it almost glowed. His fingers curved around mine.
“No, we stay,” I said. “We find out more about her.”
We’d drifted closer together as we spoke. Our hands were the only part that touched, but a long exhale was all that it would take to bring our bodies together. His cinnamon and wine scent had long since faded from the cloak he’d given me, but here it was renewed again by how dangerously close we stood. Dangerously close to giving in to the pull between us. Nothing like the instant connection I’d felt to Isanara. This current between Garrick and me was not rooted in power, but something else. Something that felt just as dangerous.
Something that I wanted just as much.
“You won’t find out much about anyone else if you’re busy staring into each other’s eyes.”
I jerked back, the little dragon weaving between my legs as I did. It was a miracle from the gods that we did not go tumbling as Tomin had moments before.
Tomin, who jerked his gaze away the instant my eyes found him. He nudged the last altar stone into place and then gave me his back.
I managed not to cringe, but cool power swirled in my veins.
“We will stay,” I announced.
“Good. Maybe they have something I can actually eat.”
CHAPTER 43
“You may availyourselves of the altar stones whenever you wish,” Varian said as we unpacked our bedrolls.
I rolled my eyes skyward, only to find Garrick waiting. He’d never shown any indication of piousness. But I did not actually know much about him. We had traded precious little personal information. Yet the curve of his mouth was so familiar as he met me with that knowing smirk. And I knew from experience that he cared deeply. Not necessarily about me, but about whatever had propelled him through the gates. It kept him unflinchingly at my side. A loyal bounty hunter. The prospect was almost as far-fetched as a witch with a functioning heart.
It was unusual to be laying out our furs beside one another instead of on opposite sides of the fire. But without a verbal agreement or direction, I’d set my pack beside Garrick’s and he’d unfurled his bedroll alongside mine.
Isanara was already scraping out a patch of snow on my other side.
I hated that they felt I was so helpless I needed their protection. But the feeling that settled in my shoulders and chest wasn’t hate or even discomfort. It was soft and new. Maybe itwas not just about protection. I could hate being protected… and appreciate being cared for. No one ever had before.
As I adjusted my furs, my sleeve pulled away from the edge of my glove, revealing the Lifebind inked on the inside of my wrist. The comforting weight I’d felt a moment before turned to ice.
