Page 92 of Tethered In Blood

Garrick’s gaze flicked to me, his smirk deepening as if he had decided how this conversation would unfold. “And you must be the cute little herbalist.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

The warning in my tone was sure, but Garrick only appeared amused. He ignored me and turned back to Oberon. “I must say, I’m shocked you managed to travel with someone this long without scaring them off.”

Oberon muttered under his breath what sounded like “Saints fucking help me” before pulling Neryth to a stop.

Garrick, looking far too pleased with himself, leaned in. “You’re fuming. Youdidmiss me.”

Oberon’s glare could have set the entire village ablaze. “Why the fuck are you here?”

Garrick sighed dramatically, as though this were a significant burden to him. “Prince’s orders.” He let the words settle, watching Oberon’s grip on the reins tighten with slow, dangerous intent before adding, “You know, considering your…reputation, Alric thought it best to have someone morelikableaccompany you.”

Oberon’s hands flexed so hard the leather reins groaned under the pressure. Garrick stifled a laugh and turned back to me with a wink. “And lucky for me, that means I get to meet the lovely herbalist.”

I shook my head.

His demeanor shifted when I swung my leg over the saddle and slid off Neryth’s back. The teasing glint in his eyes dimmed just enough for me to notice it. His smirk faltered for a moment, the edges of it turning unamused.

His gaze flicked over me, and his posture straightened. “What happened in Vaelwick?” The question was light, yet conveyed a subtle demand wrapped in a relaxed, careless tone.

I stiffened, unsure how to answer.

Oberon swung off Neryth behind me, his boots striking the dirt harder than necessary. The impact sent a small puff of dust curling into the cool air. At Garrick’s question, his stance became rigid, tension snapping through him. His eyes darted toward Garrick in warning, but Garrick ignored him, keeping his focus locked on me.

I forced a neutral expression, concealing the exhaustion, the lingering ache, and the ghosts of Vaelwick that still clung to my skin. I had learned from Oberon how to control my features and wield silence as a weapon. I refused to reveal my trauma in the middle of a fog-drenched fishing village. “We handled it,” I said, adjusting my satchel strap.

Garrick’s brows lifted in skepticism, his gaze drifting over me again. Before he could probe further, Oberon intervened. “None of your damned business.”

A beat of silence.

Garrick held my gaze a moment longer, attempting to discern something hidden within the cracks. “Right.” The teasing glint returned to his tone, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, you look like shit.”

A dry huff of laughter left me as I shook my head. “So, I’ve heard.”

Oberon continued to glare daggers, while Garrick’s infuriating grin only grew wider. “And you look just as angry as I remember,” he said.

Oberon clenched his jaw, making it crack. “This is going to be a long fucking mission.”

28

Eden

IDISREGARDEDOBERONandGarrick’s bickering behind me. Their voices dissolved into a distant hum of irritation and amusement. Garrick was enjoying whatever nonsense he had wedged under Oberon’s skin this time, and Oberon, despite himself, had taken the bait. Their energy felt misplaced against the stillness of Ruvenmere, but I didn’t have the patience to care.

It had been over a week since we arrived. My stitches ached less. The village healer’s teas helped me sleep, but exhaustion still clung to my bones. The missing piece, the thread that tied everything together, remained out of reach. It lurked beneath the surface, tangled in the fog, buried within the symbols and trinkets that clung to this place.

The trinkets swayed in the damp breeze, hollow bones clicked against carved wooden doorframes, and twine and shells rustled in whispers. I made quick sketches in my journal, noting the strange symbols etched into the thresholds of homes and shops. Some looked familiar—variations of warding sigils I had seen in Vaelwick, but distorted, altered in ways that made my gut twist. Protection magic, maybe. Or something else.

A crow perched on the thatched roof of a nearby house. Its dark eyes watched me with unsettling stillness. Another fluttered to a post beside it and ruffled its wings before making a low, croaking call. The birds had been watching since we arrived, lining rooftops and circling overhead. At first, I assumed it was a coincidence, but now I wasn’t so sure.Why were there so many crows in Aurelith?

Then there was the fog.

It curled between the buildings, thickest near the shoreline, swallowing sound and movement. The villagers moved through it like ghosts, their heads bowed, their footsteps light, and their eyes averted. A stray dog slinked through an alleyway. Its ribs were visible beneath its dark coat, and its ears flicked at every distant creak of wood or hushed whisper. Even the animals here felt uneasy.

The hairs on my arms stood as a fisher stepped onto the dock, his lantern cutting through the mist. He paused, tilting his head as if listening for something beyond the waves before he turned abruptly and retreated into the village’s safety.

The wrongness of this village was palpable, much like Vaelwick except… saltier. Beyond the superstitions, there was tension. A quiet, humming current beneath the surface wove itself into the air between the people, particularly between the elves and the humans. Their interactions were careful—two predators caught in a slow, circling dance, neither willing to strike first nor willing to turn their back.

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