Page 78 of Thorn Season
I huffed in amusement—then blinked, surprised. It was the first time in years that Garret had drawn from me anything resembling laughter.
He must have realized it, too, because his smirk fell. He watched me closely now, brows pinched—unease bordering on panic. As if the sound of my humor would pull him somewhere he didn’t want to go.
Then he cleared his throat, all sharp edges and brutal business. “She’ll calm down once the compass is in my hands.”
Once the compass is in my hands.
I averted my eyes at the sudden twist of guilt. Then I paused, noticing redness around Garret’s tanned wrist.
“What’s that?” I grabbed his sleeve, and he actually startled.
“Nothing.” He tried to extricate my searching fingers, but I’d already bared his raw skin—slightly raised and shiny, as if from a slow-healing rope burn.
“Garret—”
“It’s nothing,” he repeated firmly, pulling away. But I’d seen that look on him before—proud and resigned, with a shadow of humiliation.
It was how he’d looked after Briar had beaten him as a boy.
My specter bristled.
“Did she do that?” I asked, dangerously low. Garret looked away—a silent admission. “Let me see.” I grabbed for him again.
“No.” He drew his arms back. “You still fuss like a nursemaid.”
“And you still grouse like a child.” I reached all the way aroundhim, my cheek skimming his blazer.
“Alissa.” The way he said my name—soft and unguarded—made me look up. My arms encircled him in a near-embrace, our bodies brushing close, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, an uncertain smile was testing itself around his mouth. He gently took my wrists from behind him, unwound me, and returned my arms to my sides. “I’m fine,” he promised.
My chest twinged as his touch slipped down, grazing my hands before withdrawing.
I swallowed, taking a long backstep.
I’d always known it would hurt to stitch the tear between Garret and me; the needle would have to skewer us both before dragging us back together. But it wasn’t until Grayday, when his shuddering breaths had kissed across my specter with enough vulnerability to crack me down the middle, that I realized how deeply he’d always cared for me. How he’d never really stopped.
But while I’d forever taken the same form in Garret’s mind—never changing, because I hadn’t been the one who’d walked away—Ihad to relearn him. And I didn’t yet know how to feel about this new openness in his eyes. I didn’t know how much of myself I wanted to trust him with again—or whether, after all these years, whatever Icouldgive would be enough for him, considering he’d never quite let me go.
But maybe having Garret in my life again—in any capacity—might be worth the pain of finding out.
So I smothered my pride. Decided to take the next skewering. “You could stay,” I offered quietly. “Make your tribute to the gods.”
Garret squinted across the field, dark lashes tipped with sunlight. His barely there smile disappeared. “I haven’t had an appetite for seven years. An arrow won’t change that.”
I considered trying again. But it felt like we kept reaching toward one another at different moments, missing each other every time. So, I donned my silk gloves and let him be.
We split in opposite directions without a second glance.
I was climbing the field, still troubling over Garret’s rope burns, when Erik blocked my path with an outstretched bow.
His eyes sparkled. “Care to make your tribute?”
I grasped the bow, pulling up a smile. “I’d be honored.”
As I joined the king’s group—heavily composed of eighteenth-season girls—I glanced coldly at Perla, having lost all sympathy for her since she’d practically threatened to expose my association with Keil. Though as I watched her shrink from the king now, I realized I shouldn’t have worried. She couldn’t stand to look Erik in the eyes long enough to make her claim against me.
I nocked my first arrow as the attendant placed an apple atop each stand. Then he moved so far aside that I glared. Though I wasn’t exactly a talented archer, I was unlikely to veerthatfar off target.
Erik drifted over, chuckling, his embroidered jacket scratching my arms. “Allow me.”
