Alora expected an explosion of wood and blades and finery melting to dust, half-hoped for it, when a sinister laugh rippled along the surface of her skin.

Garrik’s grin was their cruel warning before the room surrendered to his malice. Smokeshadows tore from every darkened corner, ripping from his body and shattering through wineglasses, plates, and ornate displays of wealth.

Those merciless shadows tendriled around each soldier and choked their forearms until every sword was relinquished and turned on their wielder.

The entire court cowered as the created beasts misted into sawdust. Kadamarian iron hovered by arms of darkness, which were ready to kill the guards at the end of floating blades without mercy.

“Use your magic against me again and you won’t have any at all,” Garrik growled.

Launching from the pillar, Jade thrust her hand to the king’s neck before shoving him forward. Swiftly kicking in his knees, Ladomyr slammed to the granite with a graveled shriek, and her dagger bit the nape of his neck. “You will kneel,” she hissed.

“You’ll beg and bleed, too.” Alora produced a feline grin, and Jade flashed her a reptilian one of her own.

A low moan rumbled inside her mind. She tried not to notice Garrik uncomfortably flexing his hand, adjusting his belt buckle.

Careful, clever girl. You seem to be enjoying this a little too much.

As are you.The throwing dagger rose in Alora’s hand, the tip twirling against her finger as her eyes watched in lazy amusement, wishing she had been the one to press it against Ladomyr’s neck. But Jade could hold that honor, for now.

The inside of her mind teemed with a gentle tingle, stroking the walls like a caress to her cheek before she heard a delighted growl. She didn’t need to turn and look, knowing Garrik’s primal smirk waited. The vision sent her nerves bursting before his delicious voice thundered again.

“Beg.” A wrathful command. “Be convincing and I may let you live.”

Ladomyr’s muffled whimpering echoed across the floor as Jade pressed her boot to his back, trapping his cheek to the stone. “I don’t know what I’m begging for!” he shouted. Spit pebbled inches from his mouth.

Garrik prowled from the railing and descended the stairs with a Smokeshadow cape draped from his shoulders and dragging along the stones.

Alora felt his power before his footsteps neared. Felt the exquisite burn of ice and tingling energy like moments before lightning strikes. The air charged with his power. With his brutal essence. And her body threatened to burst into flames at how exhilarating it felt.

To the court, their trembling was in fear. Hers, sheer adrenaline. The fine hair on her arms stood as he approached. And a gentle lick of Smokeshadows danced around her fingers as if it were his hand, gently squeezing.

Then itwashis hand. Unnoticeably brushing her shoulder as he asked to enter her mind, and she obliged him.

You are viciously exquisite, clever girl. Who knew?

She side-eyed him with a feral grin.Careful, mighty prince. Maybe I’ll make you beg, too.

What an honor that would be.

Alora blasted her fiery wall inside her mind, forming a delightful middle finger.

Garrik’s back faced her but his abyss for eyes peered over his shoulder with that irritating smirk before he turned to the squirming king under Jade’s boot.

Smokeshadows inched across the floor. Any remaining light dimmed. Somehow, the glistening crown of obsidian jewels on Garrik’s head gleamed brighter as if to enhance his authority—not that it was needed. Garrik’s face alone was a thing of nightmares and death triumphant. But Alora remembered him as the male who held her after the Dawnspace. And as he stalked across the granite, there was no trace of that version. That male she climbed a staircase with. Kissed in a wintry barn. No sign of that fallen warrior broken inside his shower.

No. The beast of Elysian nightmares manifested before her.

But she had promised him she wasn’t afraid of his darkness.

And she wasn’t. Even as his voice merged into that which was unrecognizable.

“We are going to play an amusing little spectacle where I pose to you a question, and if your answer does not convince me, you get to decide which hand you part with.” His lip curled in a murderous smile, baring sharpened teeth.

Garrik’s grin twisted as his boot tip lazily wandered to the king’s nose, and then he began pacing around him. “The Festival of Cullings opened your borders to Elysian’s dignitaries. Distributing the High Guard to patrol traveling routes instead of scouting the forests and slums of your cities. And because of this pathetic tradition, your efforts to serve our High King to the fullest extent of your piddling abilities have wavered. Your head stuck so far up your ass that you failed in anticipating my arrival to clean up your fucking incompetence.”

“High Prince?—”

“I am not finished.” Smokeshadows burst to the ceiling from Garrik’s shoulders. As ruthless as his roar between his pointed teeth. “Imagine my disappointment, and I assure you, it isunwise to disappoint me, when a Marked One crossed your border and disappeared into your mountains. The ones you boast so heavily that no Marked One can vanish within. You should imagine I do not take kindly to this negligence.”