Page 20 of Greed of Giants

I waited, but there was only an uncomfortable silence. Even the music stopped as though cut off mid-note. Yet I stayed in the middle of the room, fists clenched, wondering what to do. I hated this forsaken island. It was creepy, haunted, and I was alone without anyone to call for help, for comfort, for safety. What kind of cruel joke was this? Did the House of Scholars know what they were doing to me? Were they aware I’d be this isolated, this vulnerable?

Panic rose in waves, but Jasper sat down in front of the door and put a paw on it, guarding it. It was enough.

I just had to get through tonight, then I’d flee with Harlan, never to return.

Slowly my breath came back to my body, and my racing pulse died down. I crept back to the table and sat down, rubbing a hand over my bruised ribs. The uncomfortable soreness had lessened now that I was focused on my studies. I flipped open a book by another scholar, one about the runes and what was left behind. Giants. I took notes as I read, writing down all my questions. I needed confirmation, truth. Was the tale of giants turned into a fable to keep humans from knowing what really happened? Was the truth buried under rubble, waiting for someone greedy for knowledge to uncover it?

The music started again, barely audible. A whisper of sound that might have been the wind, if it could carry longing and ancient hunger.

The tightness came to my chest again.

A tap came at the door.

I screamed.

Jasper whined.

Then a deep voice rolled through, warm as the summer sun. “It’s me.”

Killian. As though he assumed he’d be the only one standing outside the door at this hour.

Still I paused, my hand lingering on the knob, thoughts galloping. It could be a trick. The music could be a lure, something wearing his voice like a mask, mimicking warmth. Wasn’t that how the tales of magic went? They were full of tricks and lies.

“Ilaris.”

His low voice echoed through every fiber of my being. He said my name like a secret, a promise. Goosebumps pebbled across my skin, and my body went rigid, as though he’d cast a spell upon me. My fingers fumbled with the lock before I flung the door open, nearly falling into him.

His arm rested on the door frame, his bulk taking up all the space as he leaned over me. In the doorway of the tiny hut, I became acutely aware of his impressive height, how I had to tilt my head back to see him clearly. He was still shirtless, skin gleaming like burnished bronze, but those molten gold eyes were softer, darker, and deeper as he peered down at me. Lips slightly parted, wisps of hair falling across his shoulders like strands of night itself.

It was almost impossible to overcome the lure, the pulltoward him. I tried to draw a shaky breath, but I couldn’t. I stayed frozen, aware that I’d moved just a little closer.

“I thought you were gone,” I whispered, grasping at anything to help break the spell.

His gaze searched mine, and I saw something there. Vulnerability? Fear?

“No. I needed to reorient myself.” Something unreadable flickered across his features. “Now, I am here.”

I stepped aside, letting him in, trying to ignore the way my hands trembled as I locked the door behind him. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, refusing to release my question about the shadow, the music, the claws, the thud against the door. Had he run into the creature on his way here?

He moved to the fire, arms folded, pivoting slowly as he took in the room. Jasper immediately abandoned his post by the door to curl up beside the fire again, as though his duty as protector had shifted once Killian arrived. I hesitated, still standing, still shaken by whatever had been outside before he arrived. But Killian was all action. He started opening cupboards, pulling out food. “Have you eaten?”

“Why?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a meal. I see you have enough provisions here for our journey. Good. You are prepared.”

My mouth went dry as he piled items on the table, pausing when he saw my notes. No, the sketch of him. A stillness came over him as his fingertips grazed it.

I hurried over, snatching up my books to pack themaway. “The food isn’t for a journey—it’s for my time here, studying the ruins.”

“Do you still refuse to accept fate? We leave in the morning.”

Dreams of leaving him shattered, and of escaping back to normalcy. But that’s why I’d come, hadn’t I? I folded my papers back into my bag and settled on the bed, watching him work.

“There was something out there, before you came,” I ventured.

“I know,” he said, chopping vegetables and adding them to a pan.

I watched him. Did all giants know how to cook, how to feed themselves? In the city the wealthy relied on servants, and the art of cooking, of preparing food was lost. It was the one thing people did daily, and the one thing they had forgotten. If any of the affluent people from the city were out here, they’d probably starve to death before they could fend for themselves. But I hadn’t grown up that way.