Garrik retreated and pulled her pants from the bed before walking back to her. He held out his palm, and she recognized the silent ask to place her ankle in it before he slipped it through a pant leg and repeated with the other.

He grinned. “Of course not. You are far too beautiful to just be a princess.”

Alora scoffed and wiped a warm tear from her cheek. “I’m serious.” She shuffled on the wood until her pants rested around her waist. “I wasn’t born into royalty. I didn’t have servants waiting on my every desire. My fluffy pillows were a hard wooden table covered in my blood. My bed was warmed withendless nights of shaking bones and teeth until the darkness caressed me to sleep.” She rubbed her wrist where bruises had once been painted. “My betrothed.” Her throat choked on air, chest tightening. “Kaine.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “H—he?—”

Smokeshadows lightly wrapped her skin in a cool, calming touch.

Her lips trembled, unable to continue as she gripped the edge of the table. Her fingertips ached from deep inside. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be who I was before.”

Garrik stood there with tormented eyes fading into an endless abyss as they had been moments before. His voice broke as he tenderly whispered, “No. You will never get her back. Trust me when I say you do not want to. You are far braver than you think. Stronger than you yet know because of what you have endured. Never wish for those broken pieces returned. They will only cut holes into who you have fought to be now.”

“Who I am now?” She breathed a laugh. “I gave up. That’s who I am now.”

“There is a difference between giving up and knowing when you have had enough. You, darling,” Garrik said and paused, “did not give up. You fought with every shard of the broken pieces you had left. You are still fighting. I saw it today in the arena. I see it now. Still fighting the demons that plague you, the memories that sneak out of your eyes and roll down your cheeks.” He stepped toward her and lifted her chin, a thumb gently brushed a tear from her cheek. “You are one of the strongest I have ever met. If you could see what I see?—”

Alora shoved him again in the chest, but he remained solid in his foothold. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Garrik heavily sighed and stepped back. A hand rested on his hip as the other pulled at the fabric disturbed against his chest. “Do not be quick to assume I have not been or have not enduredsuch as you have. Even monsters have nightmares. If you would allow me, I may help you with yours.”

“I don’t need you or anyone to help me. I’ve been taking care of myself my entire life.”

A taut line formed on Garrik’s mouth. “Very well. I shall leave you alone in peace. Take as long as you need here. I will see you for dinner.” Smokeshadows danced across his form, the tendrils slowly whirled around his body until he began to fade.

She watched as his figure was engulfed in darkness. Until only she stared into fading cloud and smoke. For the first time since she arrived, she didn’t want to be alone. But couldn’t believe the admission to herself. That she wished he had stayed and that she hadn’t pushed him away. But it was too late now. Shehadpushed.

And he had left.

Was that not what she wanted?

No.In fact, every part of her stubborn mind screamed for a bone-crushing embrace.

Even if it was from him.

Alora looked at the door, wishing he would burst through the entrance and see himself back in front of her.

Then she found herself admitting an unsettling truth.

I need you.Her eyes glistened as seemingly relentless tears streamed down her cheek.Please don’t leave.Her throat tightened as her heart jerked in stabbing pain.

The tent shook with a soft, chilled wind. Darkness seeped from every shadow and darkened place within the fabric walls. Such beautiful Smokeshadows crept along the dirt from every corner until they reached the table and climbed up.

His silhouette appeared before her like rolling thunderclouds in the night. The High Prince stepped out and strong arms lifted her from the table. Shadows danced around them as he pulledher against him. And, wrapping his arms around her, his core trembled.

Never.Garrik’s voice caressed her mind.Wherever there are shadows, I will always be.

Alora buried her face in his icy chest.

Garrik placed his hand on the back of her neck as she began to open her mind to him. Through a heaving chest, she replayed the deepest scars of her past, the pieces of her tortured heart shattered by cruel hands, ebony hair, and betrayal behind mahogany eyes.

Once the words inside her mind had begun vividly flowing, Alora had no hope of stopping them. They rolled like waves in the middle of a severe sea storm, crashing from one dreadful memory to the next until she was certain she would drown.

Only, she didn’t.

There was an unsinkable ship amongst the deadly waters, and the High Prince’s ice-cold arms kept her above the waves. And he held her there, listening to her like one might listen to the rain.

Alora hadn’t the slightest idea of how she would look him in the eyes again. Not after everything he’d seen. Not after her humiliation was cleaved open and scattered into thousands of pieces.

So, she simply lingered in the silence outside of the firesite’s glow, stroking her midnight mare’s neck, feeling the strong muscles flex with a subtle turn. And when its ears twisted to the gentle sounds of footsteps approaching, her heart quickened, and she began to fumble on words forming in her mind that had no hope of collecting into intelligible sentences.