Chapter 69: 69

Eve's POV

We walk.

Well, he walks.

I aggressively follow.

Garrick moves ahead of me, sword in hand, clearing a narrow path through low branches and creeping vines.

Every now and then, he slices through a thick branch with effortless precision. The blade glints. Wood splits cleanly.

Show-off.

“You’re quiet,” he says without looking back.

“I’m thinking.”

“Dangerous pastime.”

“Ha. Ha.”

He smirks faintly and hacks away another cluster of thorned vines blocking the path.

“For the record,” he says after a moment, voice surprisingly calm, “it was never my intention to kill you.”

I snort.

“Comforting.”

“I mean it.”

“Right. Because calling for my execution the day I returned was just a warm offer of friendship.’”

He glances over his shoulder briefly.

“I had other plans.”

“Plans that included marrying me against my will?”

“I won't force you to do anything against your will, Lady Ravena.”

I roll my eyes so hard I’m shocked I don’t trip over a root.

He slows slightly, so we’re walking more side by side now, though he still keeps half a step ahead.

“Skara complicated things,” he adds.

There it is again.

“You two seem… close,” I say carefully.

He gives a small, almost amused huff.

“She’s charming.”

I blink.

Excuse me?

“A little feisty,” he continues casually, slicing another branch aside. “And more self-conscious than she lets on.”

I stare at the side of his face.

Oh.

Oh, this is rich.

“Like you,” he finishes.

I stop walking.

He takes two more steps before noticing I’m no longer beside him.

He turns slightly.

“What?”

“You’re comparing me,” I say slowly, “to Skara.”

“Yes.”

“The blood moon witch?”

“Yes.”

“The one who sent seven Endophines after us.”

He shrugs lightly.

“She does enjoy theatrics.”

I gape at him.

“You think attempted murder is theatrics?”

“I think she prefers manipulation to direct violence.”

“She literally tried to rip me apart with forest demons.”

“She prefers to push people away when she wants them.”

“That definitely makes me feel better. Thanks, chief!”

He smiles faintly.

“You both do that.”

I stare at him in disbelief.

“You’re joking.”

“You and Skara do have a lot in common.”

I laugh.

A sharp, incredulous sound.

“Oh. Right,” I say dryly. “I love finding out I have personality overlap with a bloodthirsty witch.”

“She isn’t bloodthirsty.”

“She tried to kill me.”

“She is just testing you.”

“That’s worse!”

He actually chuckles at that.

I throw my hands up.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“She’s more complex than you think.”

“And I’m sure you’ve had many deep, meaningful conversations while she plots my destruction.”

He pauses.

“She is obsessed with Rygar.”

That hits unexpectedly.

I try not to react.

“And?” I say flatly.

“And she resents anything that shifts his focus.”

My jaw tightens.

“So I’m what? A distraction?”

“To her? Yes.”

Ouch.

He clears another fallen branch from the path, movements smooth and efficient.

“But that doesn’t mean she wants you dead,” he adds.

“She literally…”

“She wants you controlled,” he corrects.

“That’s somehow comforting in your mind?”

He stops walking fully now and turns to face me.

“I don’t agree with her methods,” he says evenly. “But I understand her strategy.”

“Strategy?” The word tastes like bile in my mouth. I don't want strategy, I want to go home!

“She believes if you return to the pack… especially with me… you become manageable.”

My eyes narrow. “No, thank you.” I stopped for a moment. “And for the record, I definitely do not have anything in common with a bloodthirsty bitch who is obsessed with my ex.”

That ended the conversation.

A crow cut across the sky. I noticed it because Garrick did. His steps slowed, his sword stilled mid-swing, and his chin tilted upward as if he’d been expecting it.

The bird circled once. Twice. Then it descended.

It didn’t land on a branch and then on his arm; it hung akimbo.

Its claws wrapped around the leather bracer he wore, and he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

I stopped walking.

“Well,” I muttered under my breath, folding my arms. “That’s not creepy at all.”

The crow cocked its head at him, glossy black eyes sharp and intelligent. Then it opened its beak, and it spoke.

Low, raspy syllables spilled out in a language I didn’t understand, but Garrick did. His expression shifted, just slightly. Something calculating flickered behind his eyes.

I stared.

A crow holding a conversation? That was new.

“Are you going to introduce me?” I said flatly.

Garrick ignored me. He murmured something back to the bird.

The crow finished whatever message it carried and went still.

For a heartbeat, the forest held its breath.

Then Garrick lifted his arm slightly, and the bird launched into the air, wings slicing through the sky as it disappeared between the treetops.

I blinked.

Slowly.

Garrick turned to me.

And smiled.

It wasn’t his teasing smile. It wasn’t the smirk he uses when he thinks he’s winning some invisible game.

It was softer. Almost pleased.

“The bird brought good news,” he said.

I didn’t like that tone.

His gaze locked on mine.

“Rygar has found a bride.”

The world tilted. Just slightly. But enough.

“The wedding will be today.”

Something inside my stomach twisted so violently I thought I might actually be sick. My pulse thudded in my ears.

I swallowed.

I would not ask who the bride was.

I would not give him the satisfaction.

I felt the tears before I saw them, hot, stinging, traitorous. They gathered at the corners of my eyes like they had every right to be there.

They didn’t.

I blinked rapidly and hard.

“Great,” I said.

My voice sounded steady. Almost bored.

Inside, everything was splintering.

Bride.

Of course, he found a bride!

Why wouldn’t he?

He’s Rygar. The great barbarian. The powerful one. The one who couldn't let a night pass without cheating on me!

Why would he hesitate?

Why would he wait?

Why would he…

Stop.

I forced air into my lungs.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Garrick was watching me too closely.

“You alright?” he asked.

Concern laced his voice, but I didn’t trust it.

I wiped at my eyes before anything could fall. The tears didn’t get to win. I didn’t let them.

“You said the blood sea should be anywhere here,” I replied, cutting through whatever he was about to say.

My tone sharpened just enough to end the conversation.

He held my gaze for a moment longer.

Then he nodded.

“Yes.”

He stepped aside.

And for the first time since the crow had arrived, I allowed myself to really look past him.

“We are here,” he said quietly.

Behold.

Before me stretched a river so red it didn’t look real. Thick. Dark. Flowing like Earth’s open wound.

The blood sea.