Page 73 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Garrik’s face twisted the moment the streams of soap fell, clenching his eyes. His forearms violently slid back, elbows falling to the bend at his waist before his white-knuckled fingers curled over his knees.

Alora glimpsed his wrists then.

Where smooth skin had always been …

More brutal shackle scars.

She didn’t have to question it. Garrik was a master of illusions. Why would his wrists be different? He hid the rest ofhis pain, never speaking of it, keeping his scars unseen by the world. It made perfect sense that he’d hide this, too.

And then, Alora felt it.

How his incredible back muscles contracted in rapid jolts. How his breaths became sporadic and ragged. She saw his face tighten, forcing back the icy liquid beginning to collect in the corners of his eyes.

His silent sobs shook his entire body, bubbling in overwhelming grief. A million choking, gasping pieces began to break.

And she desperately pulled him tight, bending into him to shield him from the pain, forgetting about the cloth in her hand, trying to hold him together as he shattered in her arms.

“Why?” he sobbed as Alora squeezed him tighter. “Why?”

“It’s not your fault.” Tears poured down her face. “You did nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

He was breaking.

Her High Prince.

The one who’d been there for everyone else. The selfless male who put Elysian souls first in all things while he was tormented and tortured and raped. For them. Forher.For every-starsdamned-one of them.

He was breaking.

“I know it hurts,” Alora whispered as she smashed her cheek into his soaked hair, cradling him. “I know you’re tired of fighting. You’ve made it through your darkest days. You will make it through this day.” She broke with him. “I promise.”

Wrapping her other hand around his, she pulled it over his unusual heartbeat. “Feel that? It’s still beating. And as long as it’s still beating, you’re still fighting. And that air in your lungs means you’re still breathing. You survived. And you can make itone more dayand another after that. Until the day the jagged edges are healed, I am here. Fighting with you.”

That silver glow, that tether pulling at her heart, was wound so tight she couldn’t possibly help herself from embracing him. And as she stroked his beautiful hair, washing whatever remained on his body, her eyes lifted to the ceiling. Picturing the glimmering stars beyond.

Alora closed her eyes … calling to them … wishing. Pleading.

They stayed like that, a bond of silence whispering around them. Stayed until his convulsions and sobs died. And even then, they stayed. Embracing each other as the water trickled over them, washing the last remnants of Brennus’s camp away.

Alora cracked open the tent entrance as the shell of what once was Garrik dressed behind her.

The thunderstorm had calmed, and gentle taps against the canvas were soothing as his silken sheets brushed against her bare legs. Her nightdress soaked, Alora wore a pair of his undershorts and a black shirt like the one he’d worn inMaraz’s inn. Its collar rounded around her neck with shortened sleeves, cotton by its touch.

She crawled across his bed and pulled the blankets aside for him before leaning against the fur pillows. Waiting. Watching him linger at the wooden table, now returned, offering his usual escape of liquors. His movements were slow, caught in a haze. Only, when she expected him to grab a glass and pour his preferred bottle of bourbon, he instead lowered his hand and inched so slowly toward the bed.

His face smiled, but those muddy eyes didn’t.

It was haunting.

Garrik still hadn’t returned to himself as his weight sunk into the mattress. Clothed in soft, loose, black night pants, he left his torso bare. Water droplets still covered him, and she wondered how they didn’t turn to ice.

Body stiff, his abdomen was covered in furious shades of scarlet around the deep wounds, making his face twist in agony and quietly groan as he attempted to fall back.

Alora caught his broad shoulders, helped alleviate the usage of his tortured core, and guided him back to where he lay with an excruciating sigh of relief.

He hadn’t spoken to her since the shower. And behind the snuffed-out gleam of his enchanting eyes, she saw everything.

The pain hidden behind a mask. That brokenness.

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