Page 201 of What Lies Within Masks & Shadows

Garrik bent low, his ear inches from her mouth as she spoke.

Silver eyes glowed when he bent up, then clasped her hand in his. His words were soft, unlike the wrathful male she saw in the tavern. And sweet, no semblance of the disdain he had carried in the street.

Like a beautiful melody, he whispered, “It is a high privilege … the deepest honor to care for those who have long-suffered and cared for us young.” Garrik wiped a tear from the corner of her hooded, heavy eyes. “Your grandlings will be safe with my Dragons. And they will live remembering your great sacrifice, knowing you drifted peacefully into the Stars Eternal upon your final breath.” His icy lips placed a kiss on her forehead before a language Alora hoped to learn crossed his practiced tongue.

The grandmother squeezed his hand softly.

Garrik laid his hand on her head. It trembled as he closed his eyes—and continued trembling the longer it held there.

In one small breath, she slowly drifted into an easy sleep.

“What did you do?” Zanayr hissed in a panic.

“She dreams peacefully now.”

There was no shield that night as they stepped from Thalon’s portal. Cobblestones to dirt, their boots fell heavy across the road. Garrik had walked slowly down the steps, leaving Zanayr and Nalani to spend what might be their final night with their grandmother. And after Alora’s shaking knees almost caused her to fall down the stairs in the hovel they called home, Garrik’s palm slammed into the wall,cracking the burned wood. Her aching fingers curled around his corded forearm, catching her fall before she plummeted. Without as much as a glance back, he slowly continued to the bottom, without a word.

Outside, it was like they had strode out of one realm into another. The ashes ended in a crisp line where clean streets began.

She may have saved their lives, but her words still echoed.

Likely, still echoed for him, too.

And instead of falling in line beside them, Alora decided to hang back. She didn’t want to be close to Garrik.

Exchanging strained voices, Thalon and Garrik spoke, mostly Thalon, but she couldn’t focus enough to listen. Their low voices reverberated into her bones, but only the comfort of that shudder kept her walking and not completely breaking down behind them. Her hands were warm, threatening embers when she pictured the bedroom, pictured their dying faces. Pictured Garrik’s face, again, yet this time in physical pain.

Pictured her flames and what she’d done.

Air. Her firestole air. How was that possible?

Her boot scraped the back of Thalon’s heel before she realized she had zoned out entirely. With a quick smile back at her, Thalon turned to Garrik, stopping beside an alley between two brick buildings full of living quarters. The glow of candles flickered out through a few windows and the street torches were still dancing their light when Thalon spoke. “You’re not going to make it across this city like this.” He was looking at Garrik, who had begun to slow in steps, his face drained of color. “Time to go home.”

Garrik’s eyes were glazed, and dark circles rested under his eyes as he nodded.

In dancing movements of his palms, Thalon commanded his portal to appear.

Alora almost squealed when she saw camp on the other side. Almost ran full speed into it when Garrik shifted on his feet and beckoned her to go first with his palm.

Still, he didn’t look at her.

She never thought she’d be so happy to see this place. But something wasn’t right. With every step she made closer to their tents, she didn’t feel that familiar pulse of static energy. Didn’t feel it surge through her body, the taste of metal, as they crossed through the protection of the shield.

When Garrik stopped at the line of sentries, she slowly—carefully—paced her steps, wondering if she should pass or stay behind him. He hadn’t granted her permission to leave, even though she could do what she wanted. But after tonight, could she still?

“Have there been any more reports of Ravens?” His voice was incredibly hoarse. It rasped with a hard bite, but even with it mostly gone, it still carried his authority.

“No, sire. So far, only the few you encountered. Patrols are still searching the mountain.”

Alora’s eyes shifted to Garrik’s arms. The painful looking dark red slashes carved in them had dried across his corded skin. Ravens. It all made sense. He’d encountered the High King’s Ravens.

“I want patrols rounding every hour. Set up a perimeter twenty miles around the mountain. Find Deimon and Draven. Have the Wingborne transfer the rotations while the Nightfall wolves scout the trails. No Raven will enter the city while the wards are down. Understood?”

“Yes, sire.” The sentry snapped his fingers, motioning to two others with wings who immediately took to the sky toward camp.

“Jade and Aiden?”

“They have not returned.”

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