Page 30 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

Behind me, I hear him chuckle softly before the door to the bathing room closes.

The sound of running water fills the silence. I force myself to focus on the view outside. The keep’s grounds stretch out below, green and perfectly maintained. In the distance, I can see the city of Aelfheim proper, its towers rising toward the sky. I think of Kitty and Shade, somewhere in this kingdom fulfilling their own missions.

Kitty is probably in some lord’s bed by now, gathering information the way the Gilded Lily taught her. The thought makes my stomach turn. She deserves better than that life, better than being property that can be bought and sold. But she’s smart and ruthless. If anyone can survive this game, it’s her.

Shade worries me more. He’s guarding Queen Rhianelle Wiolant. Every day he doesn’t kill her is a victory. I don’t know how long he can hold out. The need for revenge burns in him like a fever. I’ve seen it in his eyes during our training sessions, the way his hands shake when someone mentions the Wiolant name.

I promised Kitty I’d watch out for him, but I’m here and he’s at the royal court. All I can do is hope his hatred for the Wiolants is weaker than his love for his mother.

I hear him step out. The sound of him dressing fills the silence. I force myself to stare at the wall.

“Did you have your knee checked yesterday?” I hear him moving around, getting dressed. “You promised you’d go.”

“Yes.” The word comes out clipped. This is another thing that baffles me. He’s spending a fortune on Hlaryan healers to fix some broken assassin’s leg. In fact he personally escorts me to the temple on some days. I don’t understand why he bothers. Guild assassins are disposable.

We leave the keep and head into the city. The streets of Aelfheim are crowded with afternoon commerce. Elves move through the markets with unhurried grace. They part for Garrett without thinking, offering respectful nods and warm smiles.

I trail behind him like I’m supposed to, keeping watch as I survey the faces and rooftops. But I’m also watching him. The way sunlight catches in his golden hair, the easy confidence in his stride.

People stare at me as we pass. I’m used to it. The Grimsbane mask marks me as something dangerous. Some of the nobles we pass look impressed that Garrett has guild protection. It’s a status symbol in some circles, proof of wealth and importance. Only the richest can afford Tiamat’s prices.

A group of children playing in the street scatters when they see me, their laughter dying. Their mothers pull them close, whispering warnings. I’m the monster in their stories, the thing that comes for bad children in the night.

Garrett notices. He stops suddenly and turns to face me. “If you’re my protection, own it. Stand beside me, not behind me.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It’s how I want it to work.” His eyes hold mine, challenging. “This guard duty thing works better if you’re my partner.”

Partner? My hands clench at my sides before I can stop them.

First the healing, then this. He’s a fucking weirdo. I move to his side and he smiles like I’ve given him a victory.

“See? Not so difficult.” Garrett murmurs.

We continue through the market. Vendors call out to Garrett, offering their finest goods. He stops to examine a display of jewelry, picking up a pendant set with small ruby crystals.

“What do you think?” he asks, holding it up. “For my mother.”

“It’s nice.”

“That’s the most enthusiasm I’ve ever heard from you.” He grins and purchases the pendant, tucking it into his coat pocket.

We end up at an eatery known as The Golden Laurel. Everything inside gleams, from the polished wood tables to the crystal glasses and silverware. Garrett strides through the door like he owns the place. There’s a chance he probably does.

The host’s eyes widen when he sees Garrett, then his gaze slides nervously to me. I can see him trying to decide if he should refuse me entry. Guild assassins don’t typically dine at establishments like this.

“My usual table, Corvin,” Garrett says smoothly. “For two.”

The host’s professional mask slips back into place. “Of course, Lord Clayborne. Right this way.”

The host seats us at a private table near the back. I take the chair that faces the door. Garrett seems unbothered by the vulnerability of having his back to the room. He trusts me to watch it for him.

We order and I let Garrett choose for both of us because I have no idea what half the items on the menu even are. The other patrons try not to stare, but I catch their glances.

When the food comes, it’s delicate and artfully arranged. Nothing like the guild’s mess hall or the street food I grew up stealing.

I pick up a small fork, examining the unfamiliar utensil. The guild taught me to kill in a hundred different ways, but no one bothered to teach me which fork to use at a fancy meal.