Page 111 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Garrik’s anger burned hotter as he trailed his eyes across the walls, falling upon portraits. One in particular had Smokeshadows ripping into the face of a blond male, somewhat younger than himself, before the painting exploded into dust. “So, tell me, Ladomyr—and yes—the moment of my question. Why should I show you mercy?”

Ladomyr merely gritted his teeth and snarled.

“I will not ask you again.”

Kadamar’s king spit out, “Magnelis granted this week in honor of my kingdom’s traditions. And surely the Hunt?—”

“We both know the High King dismisses tradition for his will.Do not lie to me.”

Jade laid her forearms on her knee and leaned. Ladomyr’s face flushed as red as her hair as he choked, “High Prince, if you’d allow my guard another opportunity, they will find the fugitive before sundown.”

“You are losing my interest.” Smokeshadows began to swirl around the king’s wrists.

“No—noplease!” Shadows tightened. “One more day. Please, Your Highness!”

“I want their head, Ladomyr.” The walls shook. The castle shook. The kingdom trembled at his roar. Then Garrik’s face melted to perfect calm. “Do not disappoint me again.”

He turned to the courtiers who didn’t dare to raise their heads.

Garrik dismissively waved his hand. “Captain.”

Aiden meandered forward with a golden skewer between his teeth. “Count yourselves lucky!” Arms flared wide, fanning his Shadow Order cape in the wind he created. “You’ve beengiven an unfathomable mercy. Get your asses off the floor, you look bloody ridiculous, honestly. Have you no respect for yourselves?” Aiden leaned forward, offering his left hand to the bronze-skinned female. “But not you, love. I wouldn’t mind keeping you on your knees.” And pulled her, blushing cheeks and all, to her feet as the court and servants rose.

“Not you, Ladomyr.” Garrik turned, shadow-kissed eyes meeting Alora’s amused stare as he spoke. “My Shadow Order has my complete authority. Respect them”—Garrik angled his head at Alora … then Jade—“do not touch what ismineor pay with your lives. Do not make me waste breath, because I will not bother reminding you before I rip out your fucking insides and feed them to the beasts you keep locked behind the mountain.”

Alora felt him, saw the shadows brush against her wall of flames inside, and let him pass.

Tell Ladomyr to lick the floor.

Her eyes beamed for a moment. Then she stood, chin high as feral excitement opened across her face. But instead—“Lick His Highness’s boots,” Alora ordered.

Ladomyr’s face paled.

Something unreadable flashed in Garrik’s eyes before he flickered his attention to Alora, face drawn in repulsion.You wish to punish me, too, clever girl? I will have to burn these boots. I actually favor these.

That’s too bad.Hiding the sarcasm across her face, Alora turned to Ladomyr. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

Garrik cocked his head, raking his eyes over her with a growl of approval.Starsdamn, clever girl. Absolutely vicious.

On the floor, Ladomyr hesitated. Jade lifted her boot and kicked him forward, forcing him to close the distance by crawling until his breath formed a vapor on Garrik’s leather.

Crouching, Garrik rested his forearms on bent knees and leaned forward to whisper to the king, “Doesn’t this lookfamiliar?” A hint of wicked delight cloaked his tongue as Garrik sunk his nails into the king’s bald head, holding it between his knees.

Still, Ladomyr said nothing. His eyes were merely downcast, fixed on the dirty leather of Garrik’s boot. Whimpering like a fool.

Garrik leaned in closer. “Not all was washed from me when I was … perfected.” He barely restrained his rage. “I. Remember. Ladomyr,” Garrik gritted out between his teeth.

Ladomyr’s face drained of color as if he were entering the grave.

“Show me …what that tongue… can do.” Before the king had a moment to breathe, Garrik shoved his face down.

Wisely, Ladomyr’s tongue glided from his mouth. In one hesitant stroke, he licked the dirt, blood, and muck from Garrik’s leather and gagged.

“You are lucky that is all you are doing.” Garrik shifted upright and wiped the king’s spit from his boots and onto the fancy crimson jacket before twisting away. Then stepping on Ladomyr’s fingers, a pained wail cried out from the king.

“Rise,” Garrik commanded.

The look of defiance on Ladomyr's face was nothing compared to the death glare her High Prince held. And before Garrik could take in that wasted breath he’d warned of, Ladomyr stood from the polished granite, clutching his throbbing fingers.

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