Page 133 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

There's a devilish edge to his smile now. “Let them talk. I’m tired of caring what people think.”

This is the fae wine talking. Garrett isn’t thinking clearly and tomorrow he’ll regret this. I need to get him out of here before he does something even more stupid.

“Come on.” I finally step back, breaking the intimate circle we’ve created. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Eighteen

We make it back to Elvarstyne Keep. The house is well-lit tonight, torches burning at regular intervals along the walls. I can see guards on patrol. Lord Clayborne put Kitty in charge of them.

No signs of unusual activity or Wiolant forces gathering for an attack.

But that doesn’t mean anything. If Rhianelle chooses Damnation, the attack could come at any moment. There’s no way to know.

The hallways are quiet, most of the household either still at the festival or already asleep. I check the corridors and every shadow for threats. My hand stays near my blade even though we’re deep inside the keep, surrounded by Clayborne guards.

My hypervigilance kept me alive this long. Garrett closes the door behind us and turns the lock, sealing us in from the world.

“Wolf.”

I turn to find Garrett watching me from beside his desk.

He’s pulled off his formal coat, leaving him in just the fine linen tunic underneath. The fabric is thin enough that I can see the outline of his body beneath it. His hair is slightly mussed, a few golden strands falling across his forehead.

“You need to relax,” he says.

“I need to keep you safe.” I cross my arms over my chest. “If the Wiolants attack—”

“They won’t. Not tonight.” He moves to the sideboard where he keeps the wine, pouring himself a glass. “Queen Rhianelle will not choose Damnation.”

The certainty in his voice grates against my nerves. “You can’t know that.”

He takes a long drink, then pours another glass.

“We danced earlier. She told me herself that she won’t destroy House Clayborne. Not yet, anyway. She’s giving me a chance to prove myself first.” He meets my eyes. “You can relax tonight, Wolf. There will be no siege or attack.”

My heart sinks like a stone. “What does that mean?”

“It means tomorrow I face her champion in single combat.” He says it casually. “Trial by duel.”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. Tomorrow. He’s going to fight Rhianelle’s best warrior tomorrow.

I watch him down the second glass like water.

“You’re drinking too much,” I chastise.

“Probably.” He pours a third, not even pretending to care about my judgment. “But tomorrow I might be dead, so tonight I’m going to get drunk in my own room with the only person whose company I actually enjoy.”

The way he easily mentions his death makes my jaw tighten. “You’re being careless.”

He crosses the room toward me, wine glass in hand. “Do you want some? It’s good. Fae wine from the southern Avalon vineyards.”

“No.”

“Your loss.” He takes another drink, then stops in front of me. “I have a plan, you know.”

“What plan?”

“A good one.” His smile is slightly lopsided now, the wine starting to show in his expression. “You’ll see. Everything will be alright.”