Page 48 of Greed of Giants

It smelled of wet stone, and somewhere, deeper, came the sound of running water. Pale light filtered through the parted grass, and I stood just inside the entrance, letting my vision adjust to the shadows.

As the darkness resolved, details emerged. Brown walls shone with moisture. A faint shimmer of mica caught the light, scattered across the stone like a dusting of starlight. The cave opened wider than I expected, its mouth gaping to reveal stone shelves carved into the walls. Sleeping platforms, perhaps. Beneath an overhang sat an ornately designedchest, its surface worked with patterns that even from this distance looked deliberate.

My heart kicked against my sternum.

Every scholar read about treasure, about knowledge seekers who ventured into forgotten places and returned with artifacts that rewrote history. But finding one? Standing before an actual chest, ornate and waiting?

If Killian told me not to open it, I didn’t know what I’d do. To remove the temptation, I walked deeper into the cave, drawn by curiosity and the promise of answers. Toward the back, a narrow passageway opened onto a small underground bank where water rushed past. I dipped my fingers in. It was frigid, fresh, and fast-moving.

We had water, shelter, all we lacked was food. Otherwise, we could remain here for days if necessary.

“Ilaris.”

The way he said my name—that single word—sent sensations cascading through me. A shiver began at the base of my skull and traveled down my spine, spreading warmth through my limbs. A longing so acute it bordered on physical pain settled low in my belly and refused to fade.

I returned through the narrow passage to find him slumped against the wall, eyes closed. The simple act of reaching shelter had drained him.

He lifted one broad hand, finger extending toward the treasure chest. “You should open it.”

A bolt of euphoria hummed through me as I turned.

Only then did I see it.

Carved onto the lid, worked into the decorative patterns with such skill that I’d missed it at first glance . ..

His name.

I went to my knees, a roaring in my ears as I attempted to decipher what it meant. Was I overreacting? It was a chest from a lost era, a time that Killian lived. Surely it wasn’t odd for a treasure chest with his name to be here. But the coincidence was difficult to overcome. Given the discoveries I’d recently made about him, the gifts of the gods, and the stone giant, I knew I shouldn’t rely on assumptions to guide me.

With narrowed eyes I glanced back at him. He’d closed his eyes, head tilted back, lips pressed together in a thin line of pain. I didn’t want to feel for him, but I did, and that need, that desire to touch him came over me again.

“How is this here?” I choked out.

He grunted, his beautiful eyes opening, brow creasing as though he didn’t understand the question.

“A treasure chest with your name on it,” I said flatly. “And this cave, a refuge from the sudden flood, and Jasper conveniently leads us here. This warrants an explanation.”

His mouth curved in fleeting amusement. “It is a wedding gift, a tradition. My bride and I were going to travel here during our wedding tour. Each kingdom collected gifts, and presented them in the form of a hunt. A challenge for the bride and groom to take together with a reward at the end. Clearly we’ve stumbled upon the reward.”

My chest tightened. How awkward that I should open a wedding gift for a bride and groom that did not involve me. A pang went through me, yet my fingers trembled because I wanted to see what was inside. But one morequestion gave me pause. “Why isn’t her name on the chest?”

Killian sighed. “Why indeed. Are you going to open it, or question me all day?”

I pulled the latch, a simple unlock, and using both hands, lifted the lid. Dust coughed off it, and it creaked, groaning from centuries of disuse. I was half-afraid that whatever was inside might be rotten, moldy, useless. Amber light shone, revealing a sheet of beaten copper that lined the inside of the chest. There were no cobwebs, and everything inside looked as fresh and new as though it had been placed inside moments ago. Preserved by a magic I didn’t understand.

Gems the size of my fist nestled in velvet cases, rubies that burned like fire, sapphires deep as midnight water, and emeralds that held entire forests in their depths. Beside them lay chains of worked gold, each link intricately carved. A necklace of silver so fine it looked like captured moonlight. Beside the precious gems lay ceremonial goblets, their surfaces etched with ancient scenes. I wanted to copy the drawings, to study the craftsmanship and sketch my own versions. My fingers itched, touching the smooth stones, letting the moonlight necklace pool in my palm, imagining how it might feel to wear it.

But then I remembered the treasures were for her, his unnamed bride, and I dug deeper. The treasure shifted from impressive to intimate. A circlet of white gold, delicate as frost, sized for a woman. Beside it lay matching daggers with jeweled hilts. A length of silk the color of dawn, embroidered with runes, and a mirror in an ornateframe, its surface dark until I tilted it, and my own face stared back, eyes wide with wonder.

My fingers hovered over the circlet. Beautiful as it was, it was a wedding gift, meant for a bride to wear, to use, to treasure. To use to seduce her husband. A bride who could stand beside Killian without burning. Who could take his hand, share his fire, and build a future the way it was meant to be.

The feeling that twisted through my chest had teeth. It gnawed at my ribs, sharp and ugly and entirely unwelcome. I had no right to this sensation, no claim to these items or the future it represented. Most of all, I had no claim on Killian, even though—and the admission came slow—from the moment I’d met him, I’d been utterly, completely besotted by him.

The word “besotted” sank in the pit of my belly like a stone I’d never intended to swallow. I forced myself to look at the daggers, not at him. “What am I looking for?” I asked.

A sigh, and then, “I’m not sure. We’ll know when we find it.”

I kept going. Beneath the intimate items lay scrolls bound in ribbon—I did not open them—a leather-bound book, its pages blank. Maps drawn on parchment, vivid in color with depictions of a land unlike where we lived now.