Page 259 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Oh, really? Where are his hands right now?Thalon’s accusation had them instantly separating. Releasing ridiculous laughter at the perfection of their timing before Thalon argued,Mmm hmm. My point entirely. Come on. The storm is getting worse. The sky looks?—

Another strike of crimson instantly followed by deafening thunder, which drowned him out.

They walked to the door, pausing to scan the tent one last time. Everything traitorous had been dawned away, safely secured somewhere Garrik only knew and could reach. Only furniture remained.

“Typically, I send things to the Dawnspace inside identical rooms like my mother’s chambers,” he answered her unspoken thought. “I will return it all when we arrive in Dellisaerin.” With a smirk, Garrik entangled his fingers in hers, knowing it was partially for the enjoyment of teasing Thalon. He kissed the back of her palm before leading her through the door?—

“Wait.” Pausing, Alora squeezed his hand, stopping him. He tracked the movement of her slipping inside her leathers as she said, “I’ve wanted to give you something since we left Airatheldra. I thought I lost it, but Miwa, when she packed my belongings…”

Garrik grinned like a faeling on Winter Solstice morning. The polished silver of his eyes beamed.

Holding her palm in a fist, the item tucked inside, Alora took Garrik’s hand that he expectantly held open for her. “You gave me everyth?—”

A sharp gasp ripped from Garrik’s mouth. Arching forward inpain, his eyes narrowed, and she grabbed his shoulders to keep him from falling.

Somehow, she felt it. Like a dagger to her chest, his magic—something tore through it—through the shield surrounding camp.

Thunder rumbled.

Endless branches of crimson lightning sliced the air.

With every strike, a silhouette expanded against the canvas. And drifting behind the figure … countless more.

“No,” Garrik breathed. Before his Smokeshadows could sweep over her, night exploded.

The tent combusted into blue flames.

Where is Alora?

Rain pelted the mud, louder than the night-blue flames that devoured every tent around him.

Heat—a scorching infernal heat—had him gasping, feeling burned alive, choking on the air coated in a veil of smoke.

Garrik’s hand slid in mud, arms buckling as he tried but failed to push himself up. But the shock from the explosion left him disoriented. And the mud and rain soaked inside his leathers, stinging wounds where that fire—thatmagic—had ripped through.

He knew that fire. The images of it. The memories blended with the pain and slammed into him.

Where is Alora?

That thing in his chest—that silver tether—it was still there.Connected to her.

Alora?He shouted across.

Nothing answered.

Clutching his leathers, Garrik peeled back his charred collar, allowing his throat to open and desperately heave in air. Though it helped little.

Rain and smoke irritated the pathway, and Garrik could do nothing more than cough into the mud, pebbling beads of blood into the soupy mixture.

A thick handful of mud was Garrik’s only hope of moving forward. A pointless effort.

He had to get up. Had to find Alora. Had to find Thalon. Had to?—

Through the fire, a hundred feet away, steps approached.

Another blast of night-blue flames fortified a wall between them. Something shrieked in the sky as crimson lightning struck nearby trees.

Not allowing himself to dwell on that sound, Garrik gnashed his teeth and forced his body to move. Aiming for those flames.

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