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I hoped he meant by fire, but I didn’t press the matter.
Once dinner was finished, Garrick removed some jars of fruit and a wrapper of hard cheese from the kitchen to add to our fare, along with plates and silverware. He set the table as I approached. “This fruit is still fresh—as is the cheese. I was here not too long ago.” He smiled softly at the plates. “And Mother always insisted on stocking each cabin with fine porcelain,” he said as he cut into the first hare and dished out servings for each of us. “She said just because we could shift into animals didn’t mean we needed to eat like them.”
Settling myself in the seat across from him, I studied Garrick’s expression curiously. I hardly remembered my mother, so hearing him speak so fondly of his own made a strange, unexpected ache spread through my chest. “Were you close with your family?”
Garrick’s expression turned solemn. I was already so accustomed to his easy, dimpled smiles and mirthful, bright eyes that it was a little jolting to see darkness pass over his face. “As close as one can be, I suppose. I was only a boy when they were killed. At seven, I was spoiled—my parents hadn’t expected to have another child, and my two older brothers were young adults themselves. I looked up to them, admired them and their strength and courage so dearly. I was too young to fight as the rest of my family did, but I’d trained every day. When...” He hesitated, gaze distant as he chose his next words. “When the battle happened and they were all slain, I felt as if I should have been able to save them...as if, somehow, I should have been able to stop it.”
“You were only a boy.”
With a bittersweet smile, Garrick met my gaze. “I wish that helped the guilt.” As suddenly as the grief had consumed him, he shook his head and forced a grin. “Enough about me. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
I followed his example, cutting into my meat and taking a bite. I’d never imagined wild hare would taste so delicious, but as the flavor filled my mouth, smoky from the fire and perfectly cooked, I decided either it wasn’t bad or I was simply that hungry.
“What about your parents?” Garrick asked softly after we’d eaten in a comfortable silence for several minutes. “I hope they were better toward you than your brother.”
“My stepfather loved me,” I murmured. “He used to sit with my brother and me by the fire and tell us stories. He loved to stargaze on clear nights, sharing the tales of the constellations and then making up his own. I...” My throat tightened. It was odd to open up to a fae, to a man I hadn’t even known a day ago. And yet, after the adventures we’d already faced, after his openness with me, it felt right. “It’s only been a year,” I continued, “and I miss him dreadfully. He was the only parent I really knew, for my mother died of fever when I was very young, and I apparently never knew my true father.”
Garrick’s brow pinched, perhaps in sympathy. “I think I might have known your father.”
My eyes widened as Garrick nodded to me. “The hair and the winter magic.” He smiled. “I know you probably think unusual hair colors are common among the fae, but silver isn’t one we see as often among high fae. And though magic isn’t always inherited—the land gifts various types of abilities as it chooses—it sometimes is, especially when the bloodline and magic are powerful enough. I was only a boy, but I did encounter him a few times. He worked at the castle. I wish I could tell you more, but...it wasn’t as if I knew him well.” He shrugged. “But he was always kind to me. Quiet, but in a strong sort of way. Like you.”
I shook my head, grinning. “I’m not like that at all.”
But when I lifted my head, Garrick’s expression was earnest, without a hint of teasing. “You’re stronger than you realize, andnot only because of your powerful magic. Trust me, Starlight. We wolves have a way of picking out the strong and brave from the weak and cowardly. Your town—your brother—didn’t appreciate you, but you’re so much more than what they led you to believe.”
A gentle nudge woke me the next morning. I was tangled in the bedclothes as if I’d tossed and turned, though my dreams were hazy. Had it been a nightmare of the dullahan? Fear about my uncertain future? Grief over my stepfather and the father and mother I hadn’t known?
I glanced up at Garrick, who hovered over me, and a blush suffused my cheeks when I realized how exposed my legs were in the shirt I wore. Hurriedly, I sat up and tucked the blankets around myself.
Amusement danced on his face, but Garrick fought to conceal it. “You were embarrassed when I saw your legs before, so I tried my best not to look,” he said, and though it seemed like he meant it to be comforting, my cheeks only heated further. Eager to change the subject, and a little ashamed I hadn’t thought of it before now, I asked, “Do you need me to check your back?”
But the wolf shifter shook his head. “I was able to glance at it using the mirror in the washroom. No signs of infection, and your stitches are holding well. Thank you.”
This time, we ate some of the leftover hare, which Garrick had salted and wrapped last night so we could carry it with us as we journeyed onward. Then he left my room, giving me privacy as I once again clothed myself in layers that were too large and smelled of him. He’d already apologized last night for not having any clothes of his mother’s, but I’d told him not to worry. Even if he’d held onto them all these years, there was no guarantee they’d have fit either.
“Do the messengers who stay in these cabins ever leave their belongings?” I asked Garrick as I left the cabin to meet him outside. It was such a different life than what I was accustomed to, the frequent travel, the multiple shared outposts, and the lack of servants to tend to every need.
“Not often. They know to pack lightly. We aren’t likely to encounter any up here right now either,” he added, as if predicting the next question already on the tip of my tongue. “Tensions always run high among the fae kingdoms of Brytwilde. The royals are always coveting one another’s power and land. There are constant wars and threats of wars. And right now, there is a war between Silverfrost and the autumn kingdom of Ashwood. I’ve heard there are soldiers stationed on the border currently. Messages between the two sides are only occurring through swordfights and blood. And messages to the kingdoms of Ravenheart or Willowbark would be carried across our northern border to avoid the battles.”
As we crunched through the freshly fallen snow from last night, I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets and wondered if this was reassuring or not. “So we’re traveling toward army encampments—or even a battlefield?”
“I didn’t want to speak of the war before and worry you needlessly. But I know these mountains well. Trust me, we’ll find a way around,” Garrick reassured me. “But in the meantime, I’ll train you in how to use that knife when we stop.”
I didn’t tell him it wasn’t the lack of knowledge with a blade that terrified me so much as the fact that I didn’twantto ever have to use it.
But true to his word, he began teaching me that afternoon. We paused by a stream to drink and eat more of our salted meat. Garrick set some fish traps he stored nearby, ones he said he kept near the stream and tended to whenever he traveled this way. “Draw your knife,” he said once he’d finished.
“What?” I was seated on a boulder I’d dusted clean of snow, resting my weary legs and aching feet. Some of the blisters that had formed yesterday were bleeding, and every step was painful. I glanced at the burbling stream longingly. With today’s sunshine and milder temperature, chilly but without any brutal winds, I could almost imagine the water would be inviting. But ice glistened along its sides, reminding me it was frigid and soaking my feet wouldn’t be soothing.
I flicked my gaze back to Garrick, who stood a few feet away along the stream’s bank. “Draw your knife and use it on me,” he challenged.
Stifling my urge to sigh, I stood and plucked out the knife, sliding it free before pocketing the sheath. When I held the blade up, I squeezed the wolf-marked hilt with a death grip and swung it half-heartedly through the air.
Garrick arched a brow. “Fearsome.”
“I can’t stab you,” I protested.
He smirked, flashing brilliant white teeth as he set his legs shoulder width apart and bent his knees. “You won’t. Try again.”
