Chapter 61 61

Chapter 61 61
Current time.

Eve's POV

"Heading to the Blood Sea now, are we?" he repeated.

"How did you know that?" I asked, my voice coming out thinner than I intended.

The words barely left my mouth before Garrick's hands landed on my shoulders with a firm grip. Firm enough to remind me he could break me if he wanted. His eyes searched my face like he was looking for cracks in a wall.

A chill slithered down my spine. My heartbeat stumbled. I hadn't told anyone. Not a soul. Not even in a whisper to the wind.

"How do you know about that?!" I demanded.

He didn't answer immediately. His gaze flicked to the trees, to the empty stretch of wilderness ahead of us, then back to me. “There's a lot you don't know about this land," he said. "And even more, you don't know about me."

That almost made me laugh. Almost.

This was the same man who had looked at me like I was a plague. The same man who announced my execution, as if it were a festival. And now he stood here, talking like some reluctant ally.

The switch made my skin itch.

"I don't need your help," I said quickly, shrugging his hands off. "I can figure things out on my own."

"Are you sure about that, Lady Ravena?" He arched a brow, unimpressed.

I turned away and started forward. Anything to get away from this handsome weirdo. I lifted my chin so he wouldn't think I was afraid.

I was. 

But that doesn't matter. I've got to find my way with or without him.

Leaves crunched beneath my feet. Twigs snapped. The forest smelled damp, wild, and unforgiving.

Suddenly, something long and scaled slithered across my path.

"Ahhhh!" I screamed as a reptile burst through the leaves with a dry hiss.

I jumped back on instinct, straight into Garrick's arms, who was just right behind me. 

He caught me easily. Of course he did. My hands clutched his arm before my brain could catch up. 

For a second, just one, I let myself stay there, grounded by the warmth of another body, by the simple fact that I wasn't alone in the dark.

And then he leaned down and sniffed my hair.

Which made this get pretty weird quickly.

"Okay, no," I muttered, pushing away from him. "Personal space exists for a reason."

He smirked faintly, like my discomfort amused him. "You smell like fear," he said.

"Great. Thanks for the assessment."

He folded his arms. "You can either wander into places you don't understand and die before sunset," he said plainly, "or you can ask for my help."

"I didn't ask…"

"I'll help you get whatever it is you want at the Blood Sea," he continued, talking over me.

My throat tightened.

My old life.

Stanford lectures. Late-night noodles. Silly arguments about books. A world where my biggest problem was deadlines, not death sentences.

I hated how much I wanted it.

"I don't trust you," I said.

"You shouldn't," he replied easily. "But you should trust your chances alone even less."

I stared at him, searching for mockery, for hidden malice. Garrick was many things, but right now he looked… practical. Calculating. Like, this was a trade fair, not some charity.

And maybe that made it more believable.

"Fine," I said at last. The word tasted like surrender. "You can help. But if you try anything…"

He gave a low chuckle. "If I wanted you dead, I would have done that a long time ago."

My eyes burned, but I refused to let tears fall. I'd cried enough for one lifetime. Over a man who said he loved me. Over a marriage that felt real, even if my identity wasn't. Over a world that never truly belonged to me.

And Rygar's voice echoed in my head like a curse.

We are even now. I will not spare you.

My chest ached.

I pressed my lips together, swallowing the hurt. Crying wouldn't fix anything. Crying wouldn't get me home.

I dragged a breath into my lungs and straightened my spine.

"Where is the Blood Sea?" I asked.

"The Blood Sea is nearly two weeks by foot," he said, like he was commenting on the weather. 

Two weeks.

My stomach dropped. Two weeks in the wilderness with a man I barely trusted.

I folded my arms across my chest, more to hold myself together than anything. "Good to know, I'm stuck here for another two weeks with another half-naked man."

He ignored my tone. "We'll need supplies. Proper ones. Dried meat, water skins, and herbs for wounds." His gaze dragged over me in a way that made my skin prickle. "and healing."

I didn't like the way he said that last word.

"We?" I asked flatly.

He nodded once, like it was already decided. "You're not surviving that route alone. The forest between here and the northern cliffs eats people like you."

"People like me?" I muttered.

"Soft," he said bluntly. "Untrained spoiled brats with Tyrant fathers."

That stung because it was half true. I still thought like a girl from another world. I still measured danger in terms of inconveniences rather than death.

But I refused to give him the satisfaction. "And yet," I said, lifting my chin, "I've survived this long."

"Because my brother kept you under his protection," Garrick replied. "Not because this land is kind."

The mention of Rygar tugged at something sore inside me, but the ache felt duller now, like a bruise already turning yellow. 

I hated him!

I hated him so much, I told myself. 

Yet I wish it were him here for me, not Garrick.

As if my musings excite him, Garrick suddenly looked almost… energised. Like this journey was a hunt he had been dying to have fir ages.

A shudder ran through my spine at his obvious excitement.

"I'll gather supplies down at the lower camp," he continued. "There's a stash we use for border patrols. We'll take two horses. Travel light. Move fast."

We'll have lots of time to spend together.

He didn't even try to hide the note of anticipation in his voice when he said it.

I physically cringed.

It was small, but I knew he saw it. His lips twitched like he found my discomfort amusing.

Fantastic.

My melancholia over Rygar shrank in the face of a new, more immediate problem: surviving Garrick and his flirtings.

He turned to leave, then paused. "Don't wander," he said. "You wouldn't last ten minutes if something caught your scent."

"I'll try not to get eaten," I muttered.

He gave a short huff of laughter and strode off toward where the horses were tethered beyond the tree line.

The moment he disappeared, my shoulders sagged.

I exhaled slowly and looked up at the sky peeking through the branches. Pale light filtered through, indifferent to my crisis. The world kept moving whether my life was falling apart or not.

Two weeks.

Two weeks to decide my fate. Two weeks to return home. Two weeks away from Rygar.

The thought of him still stabbed sharply.

He'd chosen his people. His pride. His throne.

And I had chosen home where I truly belong.