Page 84 of What Lies Within Masks & Shadows

Unlike the wide-smiled, beaming High Fae she met at the firesite the morning before, Thalon was a tower of strength and beacon of authority with ink-covered arms tucked behind his back. Standing at attention, commanding a brutal presence with a face taut and golden eyes lacking their glowing luster. Not a trace of the carefree High Fae who taunted and teased his friends. She imagined this same look to be how the Royal High Guards in Galdheir appeared, standing at the base of Magnelis’s throne.

No. Thalon embodied everything she thought a commander of armies to be.

Damning and unyielding and stringent.

To his right, Garrik stood stone-faced and stared as coldly as the dead of winter. A bloodthirsty blade drawn, and its end embedded into the dais floorboards as he crushed the pommel inside his grip with one hand atop the other.

The High Prince murmured not a single word or order. His visage alone was enough to command unearthly authority. By his presence, he needed no silver tongue. Every one of them felt who he was.Whathe was. He didn’t resemble a mere prince. No. Garrik was born a Celestial—the very stars, Moon, and Darkness they all worshiped. And he ruled with a simple breath. An unstoppable force. Immovable. Unshakable. Endless in hissovereignty and perfection in his existence. He wasmadefor power, for authority, to deserve all of faemanity bending to his whim.

Screw that.

Garrik’s enchanting silver eyes searched the crowd until they fell upon Alora. Tracking her like a wolf stalking its prey before she and Jade arrived in the foreground of the dais, settling beside Eldacar.

When the crowd filled, Garrik lifted his head. It was all the movement he required before the sea of soldiers instantly fell silent.

Alora surveyed the crowd, observing the ones who took to their knees.

Garrik’s voice, as loud and thrumming as thunder, blanketed over them. “Rise.”

Then he waited, emotionless and exuding total control.

“This world,” Garrik began, “is cruel and dark and merciless. Enduring vicious nightmares, many of you forced to wander the realm, searching for a home while grieving your losses in the shadow of Magnelis’s barbarity and malevolence. And now you stand, of one accord, the same purpose, defiant toward the throne of iniquity.”

“Death to the usurper High King!” someone shouted, and the crowd boiled in a mighty uproar. Their voices ruthless. A continuous repetition of curses, bubbling in searing waves through the valley until it echoed from the trees and surged across the lake.

Garrik’s eyes darkened in the chaos. Alora watched as his chin lifted, drawing his shoulders back as the pommel of his sword groaned inside his grip. “In time, brothers and sisters.” By the sound of his voice, the crowd cascaded to nothing more than whispers. “We do not strive for revenge. Revenge will not return those we have lost. Elysian looks to us—to fight. To give powerback to whom it belongs. Soon, Magnelis will face the swords of thousands upon ten thousands. The wrath of powers he will never behold… But that day is not today.

“Today we need reminding of our unparalleled duty to brother, sister, kingdom, and realm. To remember why we brandish these leathers, train until our backs threaten to break. Not for valor or the histories to recite our names.

“We fight to free the souls who remain. For a future that is brighter than anything we have ever imagined. And we cannot do that with disregard toward our fellow soldier.”

Hushed whispers burned through the crowd. Heads warily twisted, searching for the subject to whom the High Prince spoke.

Alora felt the ground slipping from beneath her. The blood drained from her face.

Because that ‘disregard’ he spoke of wasn’t disregard at all.

It was blatant contempt—she willinglychoseto defy his orders. That ‘selfishness’ was planned, not neglect or blissful ignorance. Acting on her own will, for her own well-being, ultimately resulting in unintentional and almost fatal consequences.

And now … he must have rescinded her previous punishment. Her real and true suffering was to be conducted before his Dragons as a lesson of rebellion.

She waited for his darkened eyes to find her, to outstretch a damning finger and to be hauled onto the dais. Waited for that head of gray hair to morph into ebony and for Kaine to stand before her. Her bones rattled, her breathing falling shallow when Jade glared at her.

She needed to run … needed air … needed?—

Something cold gripped her chin.

A … shadow. Formed in the likeness of a hand that lifted her head to find Garrik’s cold eyes now half-lidded, looking straight at her.

Easy, darling.It was his voice inside her mind before he spoke again.

“I stand before you because I cannot allow a grave injustice to go unpunished. Two nights ago, Brennus raided Telldaira. Our Shadow Order successfully extracted a Mystic and secured them within our shield. Like many of you, I discussed their purpose but failed to explain why their presence needed to remain within the shield. As a result of my selfishness, this camp was endangered and our captain severely wounded. Regardless of the intention, the rule of law commands a punishment to be executed. By my oath, as the same for you, so shall it be for I.”

Murmurs flooded the crowd.

Alora blinked. Too stunned to breathe. Too stunned to think.

This was about …him?

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