Page 47 of Greed of Giants
There’s a cave.Jasper continued.With fresh water and an old chest. Might be useful.
I lay back in the grass, letting the earth cradle my broken body.
A cave.
An opportunity to rest and heal. To decide what to do next.
23
Ilaris
Jasper’s arrival was a welcome distraction.
I pressed my face into silken fur and let the rhythm of his breathing steady my own. My thoughts careened like loose stones down a mountainside. I’d followed Killian without question until now, bound by blood oath and the physical pain of separation. But here we stood, roles reversed: him sprawled in the grass while my salvaged armor had kept me whole.
Everything had fractured, but he’d hinted at my freedom. He’d spoken of severing ties, of returning me to my old life, my world of dusty archives and academic feuds. I had enough notes, even if my journal dissolved to pulp. I carried memories of him, not only of everything he’d told me, but also of our time in the river, every taste, every touch. I felt it like a brand, but this was heavier than that, because I also had the Heart.
Its magic pulsed beneath my tunic, steady as my own heartbeat, radiating a comforting warmth. I’d meant tokeep it a secret, insurance against what came next, especially because I was upset with him. Yet the truth spilled from my lips before I could stop it, tumbling out like water through a cracked dam.
Because I yearned for that connection to him, and part of me believed that by offering truth, I might earn his in return. The naivety of it stung.
My attraction to him was dangerous. It muddled my thoughts, made me crave the depths of those golden eyes when they caught the light, the rare transformation of his face when something approaching joy broke through. Yet what did I truly know of the nature of giants? Of their culture, their customs, the architecture of their hearts?
The incident in the Verdant Maw had illuminated two truths. First: I needed to reclaim my training and act like a scholar. Ask questions, unravel meaning, and seek multiple perspectives rather than blindly believing every word from his lips. Faith could not be warranted when it came to giants. There was a reason they were wiped from the face of the earth, and I needed to be careful, very careful in my dealings with him. Which led to my second truth. I needed to think with my head instead of my heart. During my apprenticeship, I’d learned to triangulate truth from conflicting sources, to weigh evidence against bias.
I’d assumed I’d only have Killian’s perspective, but now I had the stone giant’s words, weighed with meaning I did not fully grasp. And possibly the scroll.
My recovered satchel lay beside me like a question I was afraid to answer. Opening it meant confronting hope or devastation: the scroll intact or reduced to illegible pulp. Or worse, discovering that its contents only deepened themystery, challenging me to unravel layers of truth I wasn’t ready to face.
And then there was Killian himself.
I wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but pain etched lines around his mouth, tightened the skin at his temples and his knuckles. Every muscle was taut, rigid, and he moved as if every breath cost him. How long did giants require to heal? We were stranded in these remote wilds, isolated from any settlement that might offer aid.
Alone.
“Jasper found a cave.” Killian’s voice emerged hollow, every syllable dragged from some deep place.
I picked up my bag, glancing between him and Jasper. “How do you know?”
A slow smile ghosted across his face, there and gone like sunlight through fast-moving clouds. “He told me.”
Of course. They spoke a secret language, one I couldn’t access. Killian had known Jasper’s name before I did, even though I was the one who’d found him as a pup. Jasper always shifted to a larger size, right when I needed to ride on him most. He’d vanished in the Verdant Maw, only to return with my satchel and knowledge of shelter.
The implications twisted through my mind.
Telepathy? One of the scholars had been developing a thesis on it, the theory that heightened minds or those under extreme duress could communicate without speech. He would be completely unmoored by this situation.
I pushed the speculation aside. It wasn’t important right now. Standing, I brushed grass off my clothes. “Can you walk?”
Killian watched me with that guarded expression, theone that concealed everything except when arousal cracked his composure. Those moments I cataloged with shameful attention, each one a treasure I wanted to provoke again, consequences be damned.
“With Jasper’s help, I’ll manage.” His jaw tightened. “It’s not far.”
I gathered the scattered pieces of armor while Killian hauled himself upright, teeth gritted against sounds that emerged anyway—low groans that made something clench beneath my ribs. I wanted to help, to offer my shoulder, my hands. But he was fire, we couldn’t touch. Instead, I watched as he draped one arm across Jasper’s back—too proud even to ride—and we picked our way across the wet hillock toward a rise in the ground.
Between the weaving curtains of grass, a dark mouth opened in the earth.
I would have missed it entirely, but Jasper’s sharp nose found what my eyes couldn’t, the entrance camouflaged by vegetation that grew thick across the opening. I hesitated at the threshold while Jasper trotted inside, followed by Killian’s halting steps.
