Page 108 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

“I’ll try.”

Then he’s gone too, disappearing into the night.

I sit alone in the abandoned house, surrounded by the remnants of our feast. I look at the package Shade left, pastries for Garrett.

A gift is a way normal people show affection…

I tuck the pastries into my pack and leave the house, heading back toward Elvarstyne keep.

Back toward Garrett.

Chapter Fourteen

The guards at Elvarstyne Keep recognize me now. Three weeks ago, they would have arrested me on sight. A Grimsbane in a wolf mask prowling the grounds meant danger and a threat. Now they wave me through with respectful nods.

I’ve spent my entire life being a shadow. But being Garrett’s shadow feels different somehow. It feels less like hiding and more like belonging. Most of the household are asleep as I enter through the servants’ entrance. Garrett keeps insisting I use the main doors but here I have less chance of running into the older Lord Clayborne, the Silverra who hired me.

I make my way through the familiar corridors, my mind still replaying the evening with Shade and Kitty. When I reach my quarters, I notice immediately that the connecting door to Garrett’s room is open. Lamplight spills through the gap, warm and golden. I hear the soft click of game pieces on wood.

He’s waiting for me.

My pulse quickens. I should go to my own room and close the door, We only have three more days on this contract. Getting closer now will only make leaving harder.

Instead, I push the connecting door open wider.

I find Garrett at the coffee table, arranging chess pieces on an ornate board. It’s a Fae variant. He taught me how to play weeks ago. Extra pieces with strange movement patterns and a board that shifts its terrain every few moves.

He’s changed from the formal robes he wore to dinner. I know because I watched him from the shadows before leaving to meet Shade and Kitty, making sure he was safe. Now he’s wearing simple clothes, a soft linen tunic unlaced at the throat and dark trousers. His golden hair hangs loose around his shoulders.

“You’re late,” he says without looking up, placing a piece on the board.

“I wasn’t aware I had a curfew.” My voice comes out dry.

“You don’t.” He sets down another piece. “But you usually return by midnight. It’s nearly three in the morning. I was starting to worry.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” He places the final piece and looks up, meeting my eyes. “But it doesn’t stop me worrying.”

The honesty in his voice catches me off guard. He’s just worried… because he cares.

“Are you going to tell me where you went tonight?” he asks, keeping his tone light.

“I was visiting some friends.” I cross the room and take the seat opposite him, studying the board.

He’s set up an aggressive opening. His prophet and heralds are coordinated for a quick strike, backed by knights ready to exploit any opening. It’s bold and risky.

“You’re planning to attack early,” I observe, moving my first pawn forward cautiously.

“Sometimes the best defense is a strong offense.” He counters with his own pawn, opening a lane for his prophet. “Besides, you’re too good at defensive play. If I let you build up, I’ll never break through.”

But he’s smiling now, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. The worry lines around his eyes soften. “Your move.”

We settle into an easy rhythm after that. The only sounds are pieces clicking against wood and the occasional crackle from the fireplace. Minutes blur together beneath the low amber light. By the seventh move the terrain shifts beneath our pieces from open plains to forested hills. It transforms his aggressive formation into a defensive cluster.

Garrett adapts immediately, repositioning his pieces with efficient movements, as if he anticipated the change. He’s turning a disadvantage into opportunity.

“You know…” he mutters after capturing one of my heralds with a clever flanking maneuver. “… most people let me win.”