Page 120 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I was about to ask you the same, I nearly say.

But I hold my tongue. Now is not the time to antagonize the Silverra who’s paying my contract. The High Elf who just threw his own son into a death-match.

“He’s supposed to be here, preparing. We need strategies—“ He stops pacing and fixes me with eyes that are Garrett’s but colder. “You’re going to keep him alive.”

That’s the plan. I nod politely to the lord.

“I’ve hired seven more Grimsbane. They’ll arrive within hours. You’ll coordinate them. I don’t care if the Queen chooses Duel or Damnation. My son survives.”

“Seven more?” I stagger at the number. The cost must be astronomical. That’s enough to buy a fleet of ships or a small army. Kitty is one of them.

“I’d hire a hundred if I thought it would help.” He moves to the window, looking out at the city sprawled below. “This is my fault. I forced the challenge, thinking it would secure his future. Now I might have killed him.”

The raw honesty catches me off guard.

“Why did you do it?” It’s not my place to ask but I have to know.

He’s quiet for a long moment. His reflection in the glass makes him look older.

“Because I’m a selfish old man who doesn’t want to see Aelfheim burn. The kingdom needs someone like Garrett.”

For once, I find myself in full agreement with the lord. I’ve seen the way people respond to Garrett. They light up when he remembers their names. He’s everything a king should be. But he doesn’t want it.

“You could have asked him first,” I say before I can stop myself.

Lord Clayborne turns to face me fully. “Would he have said yes?”

We both know the answer. No.

“He would have found another way,” I say instead. “Garrett always finds another way.”

“There is no other way.” The lord’s voice hardens. “The council is a nest of vipers that the queen cannot control.”

And he thinks Garrett could do it?

Lord Clayborne stares at the maps on the desk. “In five years or earlier, Aelfheim collapses. Either from civil war or famine, our enemies will pick the corpse clean. I’ve seen it coming for years.”

“So you threw your son into the fire.”

He flinches like I’ve struck him.

“Garrett could fix this. He could unite the houses, restore prosperity, give our people hope again.” The conviction in his voice doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s the only one who can.”

“And if he dies for it?” I ask.

Before the lord can respond, Garrett enters. He’s in casual clothes, hair loose and windswept, looking like he just came from a morning ride.

Lord Clayborne looks like death. I probably look worse. But here is Garrett breezing in as if this is any other morning.

“Father,” he greets calmly, then nods to me. “Wolf.”

I study him for tells. Any signs of anger at what his father has done but Garrett’s face is serene. Either he’s the best actor I’ve ever seen, or he genuinely doesn’t care that he might die tomorrow.

“Where have you been?” Lord Clayborne demands.

“Checking on the household. Making sure the children aren’t too frightened.” He moves to his desk and shuffles through papers like this is any other day. “The festival preparations are coming along nicely.”

“Festival—” Lord Clayborne’s voice rises. “Garrett, you could die tomorrow!”