Page 11 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

The stone under my bare feet is smooth, worn, with a slight warmth that suggests we’re not in a dungeon. Somewhere lived-in.

I test the chains carefully. Quality work with no weak links. The ceiling mount is solid. I’m not breaking free through strength alone. I can’t reach anything useful with my arms positioned like this either.

But I don’t need eyes to know who’s in the room with me.

That particular mix of sandalwood and storm that clings to him like perfume.

Garrett Clayborne is sitting about six feet away, probably watching me wake up. His breathing is calm and controlled. He’s been here a while.

“I know you’re awake.” His voice carries that easy warmth I’ve observed for days.

No point pretending. I lift my head, though I can’t see him through the blindfold.

“Lord Clayborne.”

“Oh, we’re being formal? How polite for someone who’s been stalking me for three days.” The chair creaks as he shifts. Footsteps approach slowly. “Four days, actually. You were sloppier the first day. That roof on Merchant Row? The tiles are loose. It made quite a racket when you jumped.”

Four days. He’s known the entire time.

A cold weight settles deep in my stomach. Every careful observation, every moment I thought I was being clever—Garrett Clayborne knew. He let me follow him and think I had the advantage.

“Who sent you?” he asks.

“I can’t—”

He stands and I hear his footsteps circling me slowly, boots on stone. “Is there some external force preventing you? Perhaps a poison pill in your tooth that activates if you reveal certain information.”

He knows about the death capsule hidden in my tooth. How does a noble lordling know guild practices?

“Or maybe you simply decided that my life is worth less than your employer’s privacy.” His voice comes from over my left shoulder.

“Your life isn’t in danger from me,” I tell him.

“No?” He’s in front of me again. Close enough that I feel his breath on my face, warm and smelling faintly of wine. “An assassin from Tiamat’s Grimsbane guild follows me for days and happens to be at the exact location where twelve people are killed. I’m supposed to believe you’re here to what? Sightsee?”

“Those bandits were going to kill you.”

“I’m aware.” His fingers touch my jaw, turning my head side to side like he’s examining a sculpture. “And yet they’re the ones who ended up dead.”

The memory rushes back. The junction. Bodies everywhere. Blood pooling black in the moonlight. That moment of confusion before everything went dark.

“You killed them,” I say.

He laughs, soft and genuinely amused. “Who else would have done it? I am a Valorian Commander for fuck’s sake.”

“There were twelve of them.” Even for someone trained, those weren’t good odds. He’d been outnumbered, alone in the dark. I’ve seen seasoned guild members fall to less.

“There were fourteen. Two ran when they saw what was happening to their friends.” His hand drops from my face. “You missed those in your count.”

My breathing is unsteady. I tell myself it’s from the pain in my shoulders, from hanging here like meat in a butcher’s shop. But that’s not entirely true.

“You knocked me out,” I say.

“I did.” No apology in his tone. “So here we are.”

Here we are. Bound and blindfolded in some private room while Garrett Clayborne decides what to do with me.

I should be planning escape routes. Assessing weaknesses in my bonds. Instead I’m hyperaware of every sound he makes, every shift in the air when he moves.