Chapter 5 · Poison and Cold Steel

The knock should have saved me. It didn't.

Vane's fangs were still against my old bond scar. Two points of pressure, right where his mark used to be. His breath came hot and ragged against my neck. One more second and his teeth would have gone through skin.

Three raps on the door. Polite. Patient.

"My lord." A man's voice, smooth as oiled leather. "Your tonic."

Vane went rigid behind me. A growl rolled up through his chest and into my spine. I felt it in my ribs.

"Leave it outside."

"Healer's orders, my lord. You skipped it last night. And the night before."

I knew that voice. Two years ago it stood three steps behind Vane on the Severed Ridge, calm as a priest, while the elders read my name out like a debt.

Garrick.

Vane peeled himself off me. It took him a second. His hand dragged down his face, and when he turned, his eyes were ringed in gold, pupils blown wide. Sweat shone on his collarbone. The fire behind him roared, and the whole room felt like the inside of a mouth.

"Enter," he said.