Page 91 of Tethered In Blood

Oberon grunted as he secured the last strap and then patted Neryth’s side. “Tempting.”

I wanted to roll my eyes and toss a sharp remark back at him, which might ease the tension between us. But the words caught in my throat. It felt different; the banter seemed forced. Hollow. We both played a game neither of us wanted to admit had ended.

Stepping forward, I reached for the other saddlebag, my fingers moving through the contents, more out of restlessness than necessity. He shifted beside me, and the space between us felt vast—a divide neither of us dared to cross. I let the silence stretch before tilting my head. “If you keep staring at me like that, Sinclaire, I’ll start to think you care.”

His head snapped toward me, his onyx eyes flickering silver for a brief second. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he muttered, swinging onto Neryth’s back as if the moment had never happened.

Pressure built in my chest. “Too late,” I murmured, more to myself than to him, and I turned away before checking for his reaction, before I could make the mistake of searching for a truth in his expression that no longer existed.

Maybe it had never been.

TIMEBLURRED,ESCAPINGmeas each moment bled into the next, lacking a distinct beginning or end. The steady rhythm of Neryth’s hooves against the dirt should have anchored me in the present, but exhaustion had hollowed me out. It pressed behind my eyes, curled heavy in my skull, and settled deep within my bones.

The ache in my back pulsed in slow, rhythmic waves, a dull throb beneath the layers of bandages. I didn’t remember mounting the horse, only Oberon’s gruff warning to stay awake and not drift too far. I had tried, but the road was endless and unforgiving, and my body betrayed me. My eyelids felt heavier with each passing breath, and my thoughts drifted into a hazy, half-formed mess of memories and fragmented dreams.

“Herbalist.” Oberon’s voice sliced through the stillness, laced with irritation. I blinked hard. I had slumped forward, my balance wavering. I caught myself and gripped Neryth’s side tighter to remain upright. “Still with me?” His tone was flat, but his grip on the reins tightened, and his shoulders squared even more.

I straightened my spine, biting back a wince as pain flared through my back. “If I weren’t, you would have noticed.”

Oberon grunted a quiet, wordless acknowledgment.

I let my gaze flick to him and observed as he scanned the horizon ahead of us. His posture seemed stiffer than usual. The set of his jaw was tight, tension taut in his frame, like a wire stretched too thin. Something flickered in his expression for a fleeting moment that I couldn’t place before he schooled it back into his usual guarded neutrality.

I wanted to ask how much longer it would be. But what was the point? Time had lost its meaning. It could have been an hour or even a day. My body was running on pure stubbornness. The only thing keeping me upright was the sheer force of my will not to collapse in front of him.

The air felt cooler. Somewhere along the way, the landscape had changed. The damp scent of the coastline permeated the air, blending with the crisp, wet elduvaris. Ruvenmere wasn’t far.

Oberon’s gruff voice against me pulled me back again. My thoughts were blurred and sluggish, and I struggled to catch up as the steady rhythm of the ride threatened to lull me under again. His arm was wrapped around my chest, supporting me. I must have slumped back against him.

Shit.

A sharp pulse of pain jolted through me the moment I shifted, flaring along my ribs and igniting the stitched wound on my back. I winced, biting hard to keep from making a sound, but it was too late. Oberon knew. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice gruff.

Tension rippled through me. I forced myself to sit up straighter and ignored how his arm loosened just enough to let me move but not enough to let me go. “I wasn’t asleep,” I muttered, voice hoarse.

“Right.”

I lacked the energy to argue. My back ached, my head was thick with fatigue, and the warmth of his body behind me was too much. It made it hard to focus, and my thoughts were slow and clouded. I needed to wake up, shake the lingering drowsiness, and push past the pain that gnawed at me.

Oberon’s hand brushed against my side as he withdrew his arm. I shivered. He said nothing, but the heat of his assessing eyes was on me. He was watching.

I forced my muscles to stay rigid as I feigned control, pretending I hadn’t just melted against him. “Keep yourself upright,” he clipped. “We’re almost there.” I swallowed hard and nodded, locking my gaze ahead, willing myself to ignore how my skin still burned where his touch had been.

Ruvenmere emerged ahead, its outline faint through the thick fog curling along the shoreline. The mist clung to the village, shifting and pulsing as if it breathed. It was eerie and unnatural. I blinked hard, trying to shake the exhaustion that fogged my mind, but my vision remained heavy, and my thoughts felt sluggish. Shadows stretched between the buildings, shifting in the dense mist, and for a moment—just a flicker—I thought I saw…

No. That’s not possible.I squinted at the tall, broad-shouldered, and familiar figure who stood near the village entrance.Garrick?I must have been seeing things.

Behind me, Oberon groaned, his voice dripping with annoyance. “Of course he’s here.”

My head jerked toward him, still deciding if I was hallucinating or if that was real. “ThatisGarrick, right?” I drawled, as if needing him to confirm reality itself.

Oberon huffed through his nose. “Unfortunately.”

I frowned. What was he doing here? I had only seen Garrick once—when he and Oberon had been sparring outside the greenhouse. I had never spoken to him, but his reputation as a flirtatious, reckless knight preceded him.

As we rode closer, the figure stepped forward through the fog. The smug expression I remembered from their match was still plastered across his face as if it had never left. “Sinclaire!” Garrick’s voice rang out, far too loud in the mist and far too cheerful for Oberon’s liking. He spread his arms wide, grinning like they were old friends reunited. “Did you miss me, you grumpy bastard?”

Oberon groaned again. Louder this time.

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