Page 40 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I’ve waited years to hear someone say that.

“You know what I think?” he continues. His grin is wild and slightly dangerous. The ale is hitting him properly now. “I think you’re too good for the guild.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.” He reaches across the table and places his hand on top of mine. “You could be more than a killer, Wolf. Someone better than what they made you.”

The touch is light as a feather, but I feel it like a brand.

“No.” I drain my ale to avoid his eyes.

“I’m not asking you to leave tomorrow.” His thumb brushes across my knuckles. “I’m just saying the guild doesn’t own you forever.”

They do own me. That’s how it works.

I don’t pull my hand away from him. Garrett doesn’t move his either. We sit like that for a long moment, his fingers resting on my scarred knuckles.

The tavern noise washes over us like waves. Someone’s playing a fiddle in the corner, a jaunty tune that doesn’t match the mood at our table. People laugh and argue and live their lives around us.

Garrett pulls back first, laughing softly. “Sorry. I told you I was getting drunk.”

“Mission accomplished,” I mutter.

He raises his mug. “To successful missions. May we have more of them.”

I clink my mug against his. The sound is lost in the tavern’s noise.

The ale flows freely after that. Garrett orders saffronated lamb and mushroom soup for us both. The food is better than decent and we eat while the tavern fills up around us.

The lamb is tender, practically falling off the bone. The soup is rich and earthy, thick with cream. I eat slowly, savoring each bite. I silently hope Kitty and Shade are eating well too wherever they are. Food like this is rare in our lives.

Garrett watches me eat with a small smile.

“Tell me about your family,” he says after a while.

“Don’t have one.”

“Everyone has a family.”

“The guild took me when I was ten.” I tear a piece of meat off the bone. “Before that, I lived on the streets.”

“That sounds lonely,” he offers gently.

“It was.” I’ve never admitted that out loud before. “But you learn to survive. That’s all that matters.”

Garrett doesn’t offer empty comfort. He just nods slowly, eyes holding mine. I realize he understands more than I expected.

“What about you?” I ask, turning it back on him. “How does a noble’s son end up as a Valorian guard instead of a lord?”

“Second son,” he mutters after he finishes chewing. “The spare. I could either spend my life as a decoration at court or I could do something that mattered. I chose the Valorians.”

There’s pride in his voice and a thread of defiance running beneath it. This wasn’t just a career choice. It was a rebellion.

“Do you regret it?”

“Sometimes. When my mother writes letters to me during long missions, asking when I’m coming home.” He turns his mug in his hands. “But then I remember why I left. At court, nothing I did mattered. I was just filling space, being decorative. Here, I can make a difference. Hopefully in some small way, what I do actually matters.”

“It matters,” I say, and I’m surprised by how much I mean it.