Chapter Text
The fire had long since burned down to embers.
It had been hours since Xaden dropped the truth. Since Liam said he would go. Since Brennan stormed outside to pace the tree line like a caged animal. Since Garrick had turned his fury on Xaden and the shouting had reached a pitch so sharp, Imogen had nearly left the room entirely.
Now, the others were gone. Imogen resting—if not sleeping—in the back room. Liam keeping watch near the window, quiet and pale. Brennan still outside.
And Garrick sat across from Xaden.
The table between them was small. Not enough to be a real buffer.
Xaden’s shirt was still where Liam had flung it—ripped, bloody, and crumpled in a heap near the hearth. He hadn’t bothered to touch it. His chest remained bare, his back bandaged in tight layers from Brennan’s magic and gauze. He looked exhausted. Drained. But his jaw was still clenched in that same rigid line.
Garrick broke the silence first.
"We would’ve found another way."
Xaden didn’t answer.
Garrick slammed his palm flat on the table, making the empty mugs rattle. "Don’t pretend like this was noble. You didn’t bleed because there was no other option—you bled because you think that’s your fucking job."
Xaden’s lip curled, but he said nothing.
"Say something," Garrick snapped. "Or is silence part of your brand now?"
Xaden leaned back in the chair, wincing slightly. "What do you want me to say? That I regret it? Because I don’t. Sloane is alive. Bohdi is alive. That’s more than we had yesterday."
Garrick shook his head slowly. "I want you to admit you didn’t trust us. That you still don’t. That you’re so convinced you’re the only one who can fix things that you’d rather be carved open by a woman who tortured you than give the rest of us a fighting chance to help.”
Xaden’s mouth twitched. "I didn’t have time for a committee meeting."
"Fuck you," Garrick said. "Tell me how you found her."
Xaden’s brows lifted. "General Sorrengail?"
"Don’t play coy. Tell me how you found her. How you even got past the ward lines. Where you went. What you promised. You think we haven’t noticed you disappear and come back?”
Xaden’s eyes darkened, but for once, he didn’t fire back.
Garrick pushed his chair back and stood, pacing in tight, angry circles. "You don’t get to do this again. You don’t get to carry the burden and leave the rest of us in the dark. You’re not the only one who knows how to lose something."
A beat passed.
Xaden didn’t look up. "She told me where to meet. I told her I needed to know about the kids. About Sloane. About Bohdi."
"And the deal?"
Xaden lifted his gaze slowly. "She named her price. I paid it."
"With your body. Again," Garrick said, voice thick.
Xaden didn’t blink. "It got us the answer."
"That’s not the fucking point."
For a long time, neither spoke.
The fire cracked again, a single ember breaking loose and flaring before dying into ash.
Garrick’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t see what you are to us. What you’ve become. You think this is some holy penance you’re carrying, like your pain buys the rest of us air. But that’s not how it works, Xaden.”
Xaden’s voice came out low. “You think I’m trying to be a hero?”
“No,” Garrick snapped. “I think you’re trying to be a weapon. One no one else has to clean up after.”
He moved toward the hearth, his pacing slowing.
“You think if you take the hit, we’ll get spared. But look around. Imogen is barely holding it together. Liam would’ve walked straight into a slaughterhouse if it meant seeing his sister again. Brennan can’t breathe without fury clawing at his lungs. And me—” Garrick turned to face him again, hands braced on the edge of the table, “—I’m so godsdamn sick of watching the people I care about fall apart while you pretend you don’t matter.”
Xaden’s eyes flicked up again, sharper now. Defensive.
“I’m not pretending,” he muttered. “I’m being realistic.”
“No. You’re being cruel,” Garrick said. “Cruel to yourself. To us.”
The room went silent again.
Garrick exhaled hard. When he spoke next, the edge in his voice was softer—but the weight of it doubled.
“If you die, we don’t get to finish this. We lose you, and the rest of this falls apart. You know that, right?”
Xaden’s gaze dropped, unreadable.
“I mean,” Garrick went on with a wry twist of his mouth, “wasn’t that the deal? With Sorrengail? You die, the rest of us go down with you?”
That got a flicker of reaction—a twitch at the corner of Xaden’s mouth. Garrick didn’t let up.
“So maybe,” he said, crossing his arms, “instead of marching off to bleed for everyone else, you try not bleeding for a change. Just… once.”
Still no answer.
Garrick leaned forward, hands braced on the table. “Because whether you get it or not… you matter. You matter to Imogen. To Liam. To Brennan. And to me.”
He didn’t mean to let it land that softly. But it did.
And in the stillness that followed, Xaden’s composure cracked just slightly.
His shoulders slumped, not in defeat but in the quiet exhale of someone who’d been holding their breath too long. The fire threw faint orange light across his features, softening the sharp angles, the stubborn pride. He didn’t speak again, but something in him eased—just enough for Garrick to see the boy beneath the blade.
Garrick stepped away from the table and crossed the room slowly, stopping at Xaden’s side. He didn’t touch him—he knew better—but his presence was grounding, solid. He let the quiet stretch between them again before he said, low and serious, “You matter to me, you absolute idiot. Not as some symbol. Not as the last card in the rebellion’s deck. As you. My best friend. And I’m really godsdamn tired of watching you make objectively terrible decisions.”
Xaden gave a faint snort, his first real sound in minutes. “Objectively terrible?”
“Like. Scientifically stupid,” Garrick said, dry as ash. “I can’t keep up with both you and Imogen making wild, half-suicidal choices on alternating days. I don’t have enough hours in the day to triage all that chaos.”
Xaden huffed out a laugh, raspy but real. “Sounds like I’ve been overshadowed by your girlfriend.”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Garrick said, rolling his eyes. “You’ll always be my first headache.”
Xaden cracked a smile—crooked and bloodless, but there. “That supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” Garrick said, bumping his shoulder lightly against Xaden’s good one. “But it should make you feel something. Preferably guilt. Or common sense. Or just enough self-preservation to not barter your spine every time someone asks for a favor.”
“Noted,” Xaden muttered.
Garrick arched a brow. “Is it? Really? Or am I going to wake up tomorrow to find you snuck out to offer Sorrengail your kidney?”
Xaden smirked faintly. “She didn’t ask for kidneys. Yet.”
Garrick groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Gods, you’re impossible.”
The fire had dwindled to a low orange glow, and the cabin had fallen into stillness again.
“I’m still mad at you,” Garrick said after a beat, just to make sure it was on record.
“Noted,” Xaden muttered, voice low with fatigue.
Garrick studied him across the table—really looked this time. Not as the reckless martyr who walked back into the wolf’s den, but as the friend who hadn’t slept in days, whose body was shredded and stitched together again, whose eyes were heavy with weight no one his age should have had to carry.
“So…” Garrick said cautiously, dragging the word out, “what now? We just pack up and wander into a house full of guards and restraints and pretend we’re playing nice?”
Xaden didn’t answer right away. He let his head tip back, eyelids flickering shut for a moment too long to be called a blink. When he spoke, his voice was rough-edged and soft.
“I wish I knew.”
It wasn’t the answer Garrick expected. Xaden rarely admitted when he didn’t know something, let alone when it left him vulnerable and exposed.
“There’s no plan,” Xaden said quietly, not opening his eyes. “Not really. Just… a place. A deal. A chance to keep them alive. I know it’s like walking into a lion’s den. But we can’t keep running. We never could.”
“You sound like you’re ready to lie down and let them chain us,” Garrick said, but without bite.
“I’m just tired,” Xaden murmured. “Of fighting shadows. Of watching people disappear. Of waiting for the next person to be taken.”
Garrick swallowed, his throat tight.
Xaden opened his eyes slowly and looked across the table. “They’re going to force us back to Basgiath eventually. We both know it. Better we’re together when that happens. Better we have each other’s backs when the orders start flying again.”
Garrick let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head. “This is a dumb idea.”
“I know,” Xaden said, lips twitching at the corners.
“You know and you’re still doing it.”
“Not exactly a new pattern for me.”
Garrick stood and crossed the room to lean against the stone hearth, arms folded, jaw tight. He stared at the embers for a moment before turning back to Xaden.
“You know I’ll go. Anywhere. Even if it’s into the lion’s mouth. I just…” He exhaled hard. “I don’t want to go because I’m chasing you to your grave.”
Xaden blinked, surprised by the bluntness.
Garrick offered a faint, crooked smile. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t end up dead before you’ve repaid me for putting up with you all these years.”
“Touching.”
“And selfish,” Garrick added. “Because I want Bohdi back too. And Sloane. I want all of us back.”
They locked eyes across the flickering shadows, and for a beat, nothing needed to be said.
But then Garrick cracked, “Still think you’re second place to Imogen though.”
Xaden smirked. “Well, she’s a better kisser.”
“You’re lucky I’m too tired to throw you through a wall.”
Xaden leaned forward slowly, hissing as his ribs pulled. “If it helps, I promise to make plenty more terrible decisions that require your intervention.”
“Oh, it helps,” Garrick muttered. “Job security.”