Skartovius looked down at him, sword sheathed and arms crossed over his chest. I had missed the final stab to end my master, but the result was evident.
Skartovius regarded the grayskin with a tilt of his head.
Something here tonight had gone very, very wrong.
“He’s gone, lass.”
Garroway’s words were like a caress in my ear.
He was right.
I turned and followed him into the darkness, dashing away from Manor Marquin, not sure who I was placing my trust in. I had little choice in the matter, as usual.
Only one thing was certain: My time with the Grimsons had ended.
Chapter 26
Garroway led me through lush fields on the outskirts of Manor Marquin. I kept a healthy distance from the grayskin and he didn’t try to force me to stay close as long as I remained in his sights.
My mind spun with everything I had just witnessed. Lukain’s death at the hands of Lord Skartovius Ashfen. Culiar and Rirth fleeing the manor for their lives. The vampires fighting each other, the Diplomats fighting Grimsons.
I was at a loss. I desperately needed answers.
My thoughts kept my mind busy while my body burned with exhaustion and frayed nerves. I had been awake for near twenty-four hours now, and after my shadowgala bout against Baylen and the hellbent riding and slaying of my childhood friend—ending that chapter of my life and killing the young man I considered my original traitor—I sorely needed rest.
Garroway did not give me any.
He was lithe and quick, just like I’d seen in battle against him. His crimson eyes stuck out in the purple night, always checking passes before we crossed them and eyeing pastures before we broke out into the vulnerable meadows that stretched far past the manor’s estate.
The man’s ashen skin seemed to blend in with the surroundings, the darkness of nature at its latest hours. A few times I nearly panicked thinking I had lost him, only for the sly half-vampire to appear out of a cropfield or grassy plot to beckon me.
After two hours of sheer running with my adrenaline keeping me upright and my heart pulsing in my ears, Manor Marquin lay far behind us.
Quietness took over the night, mingling with a gentle mountaintop breeze and the soft flapping of nightbirds overhead.
With the manor located on the far southeastern tip of the Olhavian Peaks, we kept a westerly trajectory. The clouds began to shift and stars guided our path, though I had a feeling Garroway didn’t need any guidance to know where he was going.
It also occurred to me we had passed the steep incline our carriage had taken to bring us up the mountain.
In the far distance, looming like a beacon of wealth and prosperity, sat the city of Olhav. Despite the whispers of the golden city of legend while growing up, I never thought I would visit it.
It looked suspiciously like Garroway was leading us right to the city. I finally broke our harried silence once the quietness took over and we slowed our pace, taking to the edges of the roads rather than the rougher terrain surrounding them.
“Where are you leading me, dhampir?” I snarled.
He wrapped his cloak tight around his body before tossing a half-smile over his shoulder. “Is that any tone to show your savior?”
“Mysavior? What are you, the head of the Truehearts?”
He barked a laugh. “Fine. Your rescuer, at least.”
Shame filled me. I averted my gaze. “. . . I would have found a way out of there. I always do.”
“Aye, well, you’ve never had fullbloods chasing you, now have you? No, I suspect you would have tried running down your doomed Grimson brethren and gotten yourself killed or captured or worse. I can sense your stubbornness like it’s a living thing, lass.”
I flared my nostrils. I was angry because he was right. “What doyouknow about me, half-blood?” I chided, sounding childish in my own ears.
“Not nearly enough,” he muttered to himself.
