Page 51 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

Garrett moves around behind me, getting ready for bed. I hear the rustle of blankets, the creak of old mattress ropes taking his weight.

“You know, most guards don’t literally throw their charges into ponds,” he says after a moment.

“Most charges don’t pretend to drown.”

“Fair point.” He sighs softly and pauses. I can feel him looking at me, though I don’t turn around. “I’m sorry. For scaring you.”

Admitting he scared me feels like admitting too much. I don’t bother answering him.

Minutes pass in silence. I track the last few villagers heading home while Garrett occupies himself with a book.

“Wolf.” His voice pulls me from my surveillance. “You planning to guard that window all night?”

“Yes,” I mutter.

Garrett huffs a laugh. “The most dangerous thing in this village tried to drown me in a pond. I think we’re safe from the geese until morning.”

Despite myself, I almost smile.

“Wolf, seriously. There’s no threat.” There’s amusement in his voice, warm and slightly drowsy. The ride today took more out of him than he’d admit. “Come to bed.”

The casual invitation sends heat crawling up my neck.

“The bed’s too small,” I say, grasping for reasons.

Garrett shifts, making room on the bed. “It’s big enough for two.”

“Barely.”

“Wolf.”

Something in his voice makes me glance back. He’s propped up on one elbow, looking at me. The fading light makes his eyes even greener, catching flecks of gold I’ve never noticed before.

His gaze holds mine, open and honest. “I think I sleep better when you’re close.”

What the fuck?

Something in me aches to accept his invitation. The urge to cross that room nearly overwhelms me.

I can’t risk it.

The moment I stop watching is the moment everything goes wrong.

“Go to sleep, Garrett.” I force the words past the tightness in my throat.

He smiles, just a small curve of his lips. Then he settles back into the bed, pulling the blanket up. The room falls quiet except for the distant sounds of the village and voices from the tavern below, muffled by the floor.

I keep watch through the window as the sun sets. Lamps flicker to life in windows across the square and warm yellow light spills into the gathering darkness.

It’s peaceful.

I don’t trust this serenity. Peace is when the silent knife finds your ribs. My grandfather taught me that. One of the last lessons before the hunters came.

Behind me, Garrett’s breathing evens out into sleep. I keep my focus on the darkening square.

I hear a soft sound from the bed.

Teeth chattering.