Page 184 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

But all she heard, over and over, echoing through her mind, even when she took his hand. Even as Smokeshadows stormed around them, clothing her in her scaled leathers and Garrik in his …

Was notIhate you.

No. Not hate.

It hadn’t beenhatefor some time.

Alora laced her fingers in Garrik’s, hearing that one terrifying word she couldn’t speak aloud, and let him dawn them inside the castle.

How many bedchambersdoes the princess need?

The furthest from the hallway cloisters, this room was so paraded with faelight chandeliers, if Alora dared to ignite them, they would twinkle like distant stars and mirror the endless night. Silver-specked, velvety blue rugs lined polished black granite floors. Its marble a mere masterpiece gathered like infinite clouds and spanned underneath couches and chaises, and one particularly large single seat near a moonlit window. The layered stardusted curtains denied most of the moonlight, but still offered enough to reflect off the black marble fireplace and silver frame of Erissa’s bed.

Bed. That was an understatement.

As a centerpiece, it seemed more like a throne. Perched atop four stairs while night-blue sheets spilled over the frame,emulating the tapestry of the night sky above, and flowing down the steps like a waterfall frozen in time.

Alora remembered wanting rooms like this once. Had gone as far as begging Kaine for it as a betrothal, bonding gift. Where once she dreamed of her own wing in that Telldairan manor. That perhaps their lord would allow her to design it. To shop the streets with wide eyes and a bright smile with all the possibilities she could make her own.

He had entertained her idea, leading her around the polished streets and inside every ornate shop only fit for the privileged. But nothing suited him. Nothing of his taste. Everything she asked for was too much or too lavish or too ridiculous or, or, or …

She should’ve known from the first word that it was never in his plan to allow it to happen. He made a game of it, a show of the perfectly generous and loving male he illusioned himself to be in public and a terrifying monster in private. Taking pleasure in her suffering. Playing her for the fool in front of his attendants and entourage.

After all, trophies were only to look pretty on a mantel, not to design the mantel they sat upon. It was his greatest pleasure: denying her everything.

Everything…

Alora’s eyes burned; her throat knotted.

Through the budding pressure in her head, she almost heard his voice. Almost heard him say,It’s because you didn’t deserve anything.

But Alora gripped Soulstryker so hard the leather groaned, shoved into the silence of the room, “You’re wrong,” and closed her eyes, listening to the way darkness whispered. To the way shadows felt against the tear slipping down her cheek.

In that moment, Alora dreamed:

Of the faces she now knew—loved—instead of empty rooms.

A bed so safe and inviting instead of a prison of warmth and servitude.

The smile growing up her face instead of decades of surviving in anguish.

A cold, soothing touch instead of painful, fiery punishment.

Every single thing she had gained since Telldaira. Since Kaine.

When her sapphires opened, she took in the room. Traced a finger down a long darkwood table so smooth it felt made of glass. Not a single scratch or dent in it.

Her likeness reflected in the base of silvery candelabras as she drifted Soulstryker through the air. Gliding it carefully, her eyes solely aware of Life lacking luster inside the leather handle until she was certain no gemstone was there.

And she told herself as she finished scanning that room that shediddeserve something like this. Did deserve everything she now gripped so tightly to her heart that if any of it were ripped away, she would feel its emptiness for the rest of her life. Like parts of her would be missing.

An icy chill swept over her. Calm and steadying.

ThateverythingKaine denied, in Garrik’s eyes, she glimpsed all things infinite. Neverending.

Not something dangled in front of her on a string to be ripped away the moment her fingers grazed it. With Garrik, it was offered from a bended knee, chin bowed, crown raised.

Leaning against the threshold of the doorway, Garrik’s corded arms were folded, ankle crossed over the other. Looking at her as if she were the last star in the sky. He didn’t need to say a word, she knew he sensed the words stirring inside her mind—her heart.

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