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“The slaves have to rise. They need a reason, a real reason. Not talk. Otherwise, the rebellion would be over before it started.”
“‘Time to put some skin in the game.’” I touch my lips as I say the words.
“What?” Gareth kneels at my feet.
“It’s something she said when she went out to fight you and save Chastain. ‘Time to put some skin in the game.’ It’s an old changeling saying. I never really knew what it meant other than the general idea.”
“My beloved.” He swipes the tears away, but fresh ones roll down. “I’m so sorry.”
“And you didn’t tell me.” I can barely see him through the wash of tears. “She’s put her skin in the game, and no one can save her.”
“Her plan—”
“How can she have a plan?” I have the urge to strike him but keep my hands at my sides. Lowering my voice as best I can, I continue, “How can she have a plan when she doesn’t have any idea what Zatran will do to her?”
“She knows him, just like she knows all the slave masters in this city. He will parade her tomorrow, show her off at the Bazaar. When word gets out that she is being …” He struggles to find the words.
That’s all right. I already know what they are. “Beaten, tortured, worse—or maybe a creative mix of all three. Given Zatran’s flair for flashiness, I wouldn’t be surprised if his revenge took the form of her being flayed alive for the sake of art.”
“He’s keeping her in a cage. Word will get out. The slaves will hear, and then they will come to her aid. An entire city will heed her call.” He drops his head, his dark hair falling to hide his face. “That was her plan. What she wanted.”
“And Chastain? What did he have to say?”
“He said no. He refused. He fought with her.”
I absentmindedly stroke his soft strands as I imagine the horrors Silmaran is experiencing right now. “But she didn’t listen?”
“No. She made up her mind and wouldn’t be turned from this path.”
“Reminds me of me.”
He shudders. “Please don’t say that. I could never let you suffer like this.”
“I already have.” The memories of what I’ve endured try to seep from their lockbox, but I slam the door, sealing them in where they’ll never see the light of Arin’s sun.
It’s horrible and wrong that Silmaran’s done this. But I get it. And I understand why she didn’t tell me.
Understanding is a fine thing.
But acceptance is something altogether different.
14
Gareth
She doesn’t sleep. More than once I fear she’ll try to sneak away, to find Silmaran in the dark and save her from her fate. But deep down, I think she knows that this was Silmaran’s choice. And no matter how badly I want to change it, it is not up to me. Just as it is not up to Beth.
I keep her wrapped in my arms even though I don’t know if she’s forgiven me. It doesn’t matter. I did conceal the truth from her, so I deserve whatever punishment she sees fit. But I will never leave her side, never stop trying to repair the fracture that Silmaran’s choice has caused. Beth is my mate, my love, my soul. Being without her is the same as being without breath, without thought, without life. So, I hold her. I wipe her tears. I kiss her softly and tell her in the old language how precious she is to me.
The house wakes long before dawn, voices floating down the hallway and the sounds of hammers and work disturbing the evening quiet.
Beth turns over, her eyes open in the dark. “What are we going to do?”
I stroke her hair. “We are going to the Bazaar. Chastain will give the signal when it’s time to fight.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’m going to protect you while Chastain frees Silmaran and leads the slaves to victory.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“It won’t be. Silmaran’s capture helps us on two fronts—first, it will ignite the slaves, and second, Zatran will let his guard down and assume that as long as he has the slave leader, the Bazaar will be safe.” I pull her on top of me, her warm body light and soft. “But make no mistake, this is the most dangerous time. Everything must align for this to work. Silmaran’s taken a huge risk, gambling on herself in the hopes it will be enough to start the uprising.”
“What if it’s not?” She blinks, her eyelashes tickling my chest.
“Then we’ll deal with it.”
“Why do you sound so sure?”
“Because the Ancestors have granted me the greatest gift in Arin, and I know that I will do anything and everything to keep her safe. Fighting your battles is just part of it. Slavery must end, and we must continue on our journey to the mines.”
“For Clotty.”
“Well, yes. You’re going there for Clotty. I’m going there to get Clotty for you, then bed you to within an inch of your life.”
She laughs a little. “You certainly seem to overpromise quite a bit.”
I snort and kiss her crown. “Believe me, my beloved, if anything, I’m under-promising.”
She does that thing where she curls her toes and nibbles her lip. I love it. Propping her chin on my chest, she traces the scar on the right side of my face.
“How did you get this?”
The pull of magic snaps taut between us.
“All my scars are from the vampire hounds, though I have a few others that Granthos did himself,” she answers quickly, gratifying her half of the pact. “Your turn.”
“No tricks this time, I see.”
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t trick you last time. You just didn’t pay attention.”
“You play dirty.”
She quirks a brow. “Is there some other way to play?”
“Hmmph.”
“Quit stalling. Tell me what glorious adventure led you to have such a sexy scar.”
Sexy? I’ve never considered it as anything more than a flaw.
“Why do you look so shocked?” She runs her finger along the split in my eyebrow. “It’s a sexy scar. I’ve never seen one as perfect as this. It says ‘I slay witches all week long…’” She drops her voice to a whisper. “‘With my cock.’”
I laugh, a burst of amusement seemingly out of place in our current peril but needed all the same. “Your mouth never ceases to amaze me.”
“Tell me.” She perches her chin on her hands, an expectant look on her face.
“First tell me if you’re still angry with me for keeping Silmaran’s confidence.”
She looks away. “Yes, but I’m willing to table it for now so I can find out your deep, dark secret. But you are not forgiven. Now, spill.”
I sigh. “Fine, if you must know.”
“I must.”
“Long ago when we were at war with Shathinor, the dark king of the winter realm—”
“Taylor’s dad.” She squints her eyes. “The jerk.”
“Yes. We were encamped outside Cold Comfort in the Aurora Fields. The town was held by Shathinor’s forces, and they would come charging for our lines at least once a day. This stalemate went on for weeks and then into months. Leander wanted to storm the town, mainly to liberate the people who lived there. They were overrun, mistreated, and being starved by Shathinor’s forces. We had blocked the routes to the greenhouses, so no food was being delivered. It was dire.”
“Snowing?”
“Yes.”
“Freezing?”
“Of course. But that doesn’t bother us.”
“Bothers me.” She shivers.
I wrap my arms around her back. “Then stay close, little changeling. I will keep you warm.”
“Get on with it.” She smirks.
“The stalemate continued apace until Leander decided to bring it to a head. His plan was to challenge Shathinor to a duel right then and there. Trial by combat, winner take all.”
“Bold.”
I grimace. “Too bold. Rash, really. I tried to talk him out of it. He wouldn’t be swayed. Once he get
