Page 164 of What Lies Within Masks & Shadows

The gentle touch stirred him, and he brushed her hand resting on the cot beside him as he gazed up at her with that intoxicating side grin she admittedly missed.

Garrik pushed himself up on his elbows with a sharp wince and slumped back against the mountain of pillows stacked against the wall of the tent. Silver eyes looked rested, lovely, and bright once more. The color of his face had returned to its tanned glow.

With a swinging motion, he threw the warmed blankets off his body and planted his feet on the furs beneath.

Thank you.Garrik squeezed her hand before standing.

When he let go, Alora’s eyes fell onto her palm where a small pearlsea rested around swirling Smokeshadows.

Garrik cleared his throat, adjusting his leathers at his abdomen, and proceeded to his chair in the middle of the tent, grabbing his swords that rested against it.

The group instantly jumped up from their seats and turned.

And Garrik closed his eyes. A pulse of energy thrummed through them all. Through everyone in camp.

Sighs of relief and cheering rattled the camp. A victory cry by its intensity. Their High Prince had returned to them.

Eyes opened and arms crossed, Garrik grinned. “What did I miss?”

Garrik didn’t bother discussingdetails of his absence.

He slouched in his armchair, fingers loosely clasping a sweating bottle of amber liquid. Beads of moisture gathered on the glass, catching the dim light as he swirled the contents.

Their concern was appreciated. He thanked them for it, for their obedience to their duties.

With a quick wave and a burst of Smokeshadows in the corner of his tent, a tall box-like structure with a mix of earthy colored stones, replaced the table.

Upon quick examination, Alora recognized small details like a ledge with vials and a steel fixture that mimics rainfall. Such details reminded her of those in Kaine’s manor. He had many washrooms with the same symbol of luxury. The stones formed a shower fit for thrice Garrik’s size, and a crystal door was propped open, waiting to be occupied.

Garrik shifted in his chair, grimacing as the bourbon burned down his throat before the soothing sound of water beganpelting onto the stone floor and steam billowed from beyond the crystal threshold. A heavy aroma of lemon, rose, and lavender accompanied the steam.

They all registered the gentle request to leave him to the peace and quiet.

After his days at the castle, he was sure to deserve it.

On his way to the entrance, Thalon paused and palmed Garrik’s shoulder, and Garrik shuddered at the touch. “Welcome home, brother. You know I’m herewhenyou decide to talk.” Tone filled with relief, he flashed Garrik a stern look, as if he knew there was so much more to be disclosed. But instead of pushing, Thalon twisted from his finger the ring Garrik gave him and returned it to his nightstand before walking out.

The sun had vanished by then. And through the crackling of fires, camp had quieted. A cloudless night sky proudly displayed a breathtaking view of glistening stars across the horizon. With it, a peaceful, cool breeze.

Mostly everyone had retired to their tents, but Alora’s nerves shot lightning through her limbs as she tossed and turned. Sleep was utterly pointless.

So she stirred herself up and threw on onyx pants, leather boots, and a red leather jacket given to her by Calla, a rose-gold-haired faerie with bright yellow eyes skilled in phytotherapy. Calla insisted that Alora would look lovely in it and gladly gifted it by a river they were doing their wash at.

Grabbing her obsidian dagger and its twin from between the cot and frame, Alora quietly slipped to the door, deciding on target practice. Two more steps and she would’ve been outside in the refreshingly crisp air.

If it wasn’t for the rustling beside her.

Armed with weapons set for battle, Garrik, tense shouldered, stormed out of his tent.

This time, she didn’t question herself. She knew exactly what was coming, and even with the brutal warning, she followed him anyway.

An annulus of torches appeared beyond the tree she leaned against. Surrounded by thick forest, Garrik began training with fine sword mastery in each movement of twin blades. A style much like Thalon’s, she noticed at some point, but crafted in his own magnificently lethal perfection.

By his expression … by the brutal warning of his rippling power, she knew.

This was a bad night.

Maybe tonight wasn’t the best time to disturb him. Stars-knows how many times she’d rather be left in darkness to battle her own haunting day-terrors. How many times she’d rather fight in silence while trapped in her screaming mind.

---