Page 18 of A Guard and a Gardener

“More,” the new man ordered, his eyes flickering to mine. Unlike the others, Sir didn’t look gratified by my suffering. Onlyirritated. “Don’t let him rest until he speaks. I want my hands around the prince’s skinny little neck by the end of the week, andthenwe’ll see where all that Aratorre smugness disappears to.”

“Jiron!”

I shook my head. They weren’t getting Ren. I’d give my life for his a thousand times over, and my suffering wasnothingcompared to the pain that splintered my heart with the mere thought of giving him up. Never mind that if all had gone to plan, him and Mathias would now be deep in Temarian territory, likely beyond the reach of these Quarehian rebels. Because if they had been delayed, or stopped at the border, my betrayal could cost them their lives, and no amount of agony I could suffer was worth that.

Head bowed, fists clenched, wrists and ankles straining against my restraints, I waited for what I knew was coming.

“Jiron?”

That voice...it didn’t belong here. It lived in a better time, a time of sunshine and picnic food and impossibly cheery smiles.

The men closed in on me with sickeningly anticipatory expressions and sharp implements still slick with my blood. Everything I saw and smelled and felt told me that I was still in that mildewed room, every inch of my skin graced with bruises and cuts and burns, but...

“Jiron, please!”

Wyatt?

He sounded scared.

My boy needed me! But I couldn’t help. My body was broken; ribs cracked, bones snapped, and-

My boy needed me.

With a roar, I yanked myself free and surged forward, throwing my whole weight at my enemies. Then I blinked when the dim, gruesome scene of my torture was replaced with the sunny vista of a tree-lined clearing, long grasses and wildflowers surrounding a picnic blanket and basket.

Ourpicnic blanket and basket.

“Wyatt!” I yelled as I caught sight of him across the clearing, his beautiful face creased in fear as a stranger closed in on him with my sword held aloft.

*

Chapter Twelve

It was strange how in one moment, Macario was all I could see – the blade in his hand, the cruel scorn on his face, the way he wasso close– and in the next, it was like he’d ceased to exist.

Because Jiron was here, my sweet, courageous giant racing towards me and wrapping me in his arms. He normally took a while to come out of whatever tormenting evil had held him in its foul grasp, but his eyes held none of the usual horrors: now, they were full of tender concern as they raked over my body, and he patted down my arms and legs and chest as if to assure himself that I was unhurt.

“I’m fine,” I told him, although I couldn’t stop the whimper that erupted from my mouth as I clung to him. It was only partly from fear of what had almost happened: the rest was the pure relief of getting to wrap my arms around his neck and breathe in his comforting scent. The solid muscle beneath my fingers was an enjoyable bonus.

“You,” Jiron growled, pushing me behind him as he turned to face Macario. “Who thefuckare you?”

I peered out from behind Jiron’s protective stance, my hands clutching at his waist. Mac’s eyes darted between us and he sneered.

“The one who used up your little toy long before he came crawling to you. Has he bored you with all his whining and neediness yet?”

My giant snarled, taking a threatening step towards him. Mac, smartly enough, took one back. Jiron wasn’t wearing the coat that marked him as a king’s guard today, but it seemed even my ex-lover wasn’t stupid enough to tangle with him, despite being armed, for with a final contemptuous look in my direction, he turned and fled into the trees. I expected him to pause on the edges of our earshot and yell a final, scathing retort – like he had that day when I’d ended things between us – but surprisingly he disappeared in silence.

“He took your sword,” I said quietly, trying to keep any trace of a whine from my voice. “If you want to go after him and get it back, I could…”

Jiron twisted and dropped to his knees in front of me, cradling my face with his huge hands. They were warm and callused, and held me so tenderly. “I’m not leaving you alone, little one. Are you alright?”

Yes,I went to say, but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was a strangled kind of whimper.

“Shush, daddy’s got you,” Jiron murmured, peppering my forehead with gentle kisses. “It’s okay. It’s all okay, sweet boy.”

“I’m sor-sorry,” I sobbed, unable to stop the tears. “After everything you went through, and I can’t handle...”

The words devolved into hiccoughs that he soothed away with a strong hand rubbing down my back.

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