Page 76 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I stand abruptly, moving to adjust my pack.

“Wolf, come on—”

I brandish the knife I’m holding, using it to cut some rope for securing my pack. The blade flashes in the firelight. If he’s smart, he’ll back off.

I’m armed, I’m busy, leave me the fuck alone.

Garrett falls silent. I can feel him watching me, but I keep my eyes on my work. Outside our small circle of firelight, the mountain wind moans. I pull my cloak tight around my shoulders against the cold and sink onto my bedroll, curling on my side away from his watchful gaze.

“Wolf—”

I close my eyes.

Silence. Then I hear him sigh a long exhale.

Good.

Let him be frustrated and feel a fraction of the anger churning in my gut. Minutes pass and I start to think maybe he’s finally given up, finally going to let me sleep in peace.

I hear soft movements next to me.

I tense as I crack my eyes open. Garrett settles down on the ground near my bedroll. He is close enough that I can feel the heat from his body.

Fuck, this is a clear invasion of my space.

He is carrying something.

Curiosity wins. I turn my head just enough to see what he’s doing. He’s setting up a chess set.

This one is handmade. I can see the knife marks in the wood, the careful whittling that shaped each piece. The board is a flat piece of bark with squares burned into it, dark and light alternating in a careful pattern. I look at the king with a tiny crown carved into the top.

Garrett made this himself.

Every piece shows careful work. He spent hours carving each piece, shaping something beautiful from raw wood.

He’s setting up the board. Black pieces on his side, white on mine. I stare at him and the chess set.

What the fuck is he doing?

He finishes setting up the board and looks at me expectantly. “Your move.”

Something breaks inside me.

I sit up fast, my hand shooting out to scatter the pieces. They go flying. The king tumbles into the fire and pawns roll across stone.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The words rip out of me. My voice echoes off the rocks around us.

Garrett looks at the scattered pieces and at me. His expression is confused, and bewildered. He truly doesn’t understand what he did wrong.

“I was just—”

I’m on my feet now, anger flooding through me hot and sharp. “I told you. We do this job, we hunt those fucking knights and that’s it.

“Wolf—”

“I didn’t agree to this.” I kick a piece into the darkness.

He’s quiet for a moment, studying me. Then something shifts in his expression. The confusion fades, replaced by something that looks almost like understanding. His mouth curves into a smile. Just a hint of it.