Page 134 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I should do something. Maybe I should help him train or run him through drills to make sure he’s ready for tomorrow. I look at him again.

Garrett doesn’t need training. He is one of the best swordsmen I’ve ever seen. Better than me, I’ll admit.

He’ll win tomorrow. I’m confident of that.

But he needs to stop drinking or he’ll be too hungover to fight properly.

Garrett hums the melody from the ballroom. The same song we danced to. It’s off-key and a little slurred from the wine, but it makes me smile anyway.

“You’re a terrible singer,” I tell him.

“I know. It’s one of my few flaws.” He grins at me. “Along with being too drunk and reckless.”

“Those are significant flaws.” I cross my arms, trying to look stern.

“But you like them anyway.” He takes another drink. “Admit it. You’d be bored if I was perfect.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’d settle for you being sober enough to fight tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve fought with worse hangovers.” He laughs at my expression. “What? You think I haven’t shown up to sparring sessions absolutely destroyed? I’m an Aldarelf’s son, Wolf. Drinking is practically a requirement.”

Despite everything, I almost smile. “That explains so much.”

“See? You’re smiling. I knew I could get one out of you.” He moves closer, swaying slightly. His movements are still graceful despite the fae wine. For a moment I almost believe that he has some brilliant strategy that will save everyone. If there’s anyone who can think of a political maneuver and way out of this impossible situation, it’s him.

Then I notice the slight unfocus in his green eyes. Garrett’s more drunk than I thought. He takes another step forward, misjudges the distance, and stumbles slightly.

Wine sloshes over the bottle and splashes across my borrowed coat and trousers. Dark red soaks into the cloth and seeps through to my skin.

“Shit.” Garrett stares at the stain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine.” I look down at the spreading wetness.

“No, it’s—” He sets down the bottle on the coffee table and reaches for me, his hands going to the stain on my thigh where most of the wine landed. “I can fix this. Let me—”

He presses against the fabric with his hand, trying to blot away the wine. The pressure sends heat through me despite the cool wetness. His hands rest on my thigh, rubbing small circles that do absolutely nothing to help the stain but do everything to make my cock stir.

My breath catches.

“Garrett,” I call his name in a grunt. “That’s not helping.”

He pulls his hands back, looking almost sheepish. “You should use the bath. Get cleaned up before it sets.”

The coat is probably ruined already but standing here letting it soak in won’t help. Plus, I need distance and a moment to collect myself before I do something stupid.

“Fine.” I move toward the bathing chamber attached to his room. “I’ll be quick.”

The washroom is as luxurious as the rest of the keep with a large marble tub that could fit three people comfortably. I’ve used the heated shower system a few times over the past weeks after long days of surveillance. Tonight is no different. I strip off the wine-stained clothes and turn on the water.

It comes out warm immediately, another luxury I’ll never get used to. In Tiamat, hot water meant heating it yourself over a fire. I had cold showers more often than not because fuel was expensive. Here it’s just available and easy. Just like everything else in this world Garrett lives in.

I step under the stream, letting it wash away the stickiness of the wine. The water runs red for a moment before clearing. I work quickly, scrubbing at my skin and hair.

I need to get back out there and keep watch. I have to make sure Garrett doesn’t do anything stupid while drunk and that he’s prepared for the Duel tomorrow—

The door opens.

I freeze, water streaming over my face.