Page 113 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Greeted by a foyer crafted of silver that envied Garrik’s polished eyes, spiral railings deigned two long staircases. Each rugged in deep purple, expensive fabric and embroidered in silver filigrees, they led to upper floors splitting into five hallways.

On the top level, a backdrop of arched windows stretched to the impeccably high ceilings, casting light from gardens carved within the mountain. Through the windows trimmed in deep brown wood, she browsed the numerous balconies and doorways up to the mountain’s peak, where turrets and spires nearly touched the bright afternoon sky.

One more staircase atop that extended to the ceiling, which dripped with crystal faelight chandeliers. And at the base of those railings, two considerately tall ravens perched as if watching over the castle’s doorway. Their piercing red eyes as ominous as those on the wooden doors, flanking a glimmering pool of water between the staircases.

Unlike Ladomyr’s castle, this foyer gleamed. Wooden floors in rich oak stained in an almond finish were polished so perfectly, and she wondered if anyone had ever graced the boards with their boots. Marbled walls held hanging weapons and tapestries of the sea and landscapes much like those in Zyllyryon—though Alora didn’t imagine Magnelis cared so much about the kingdom he’d usurped.

Garrik regarded the slight pinch of her brows and leaned close as he observed them, too. “My mother’s taste,” he said and cleared his throat, eyes flickering to the Kadamarian guards mere feet away on the bridge. “Magnelis has not visited since before her death.” Which meant Magnelis hadn’t removed and stolen these memories like he had in Castle Galdheir.

Alora’s heart dropped at the thought when her eyes drifted to Garrik’s face. That look of the ruthless Savage Prince had disappeared as he observed one particular painting. For only a moment, the silver in his eyes went glassy, his breathing uneven before darkness swirled inside. She saw the painting reflected in his stare as if mirrored crystal replaced his irises.

She’d never seen him before. Was never allowed inside the throne room when Kaine was summoned to Galdheir for lord’s business. Never laid her eyes on the usurper beast that haunted Elysian. But she knew, looking at how Garrik’s jaw tightened, how his grip crushed the pommel of his sword enough to crack the iron beneath until his knuckles blanched.

To anyone else, the painting was an endearing memory. Settled on the bottom level, between the stairs, directly in thecenter of the wall so guests welcomed into these halls first saw the royal family. High Queen Airathel cradled a faeling with perfect gray hair and glowing green eyes. Her long curls were so bright they resembled sunlight spilling like waves over a teal gown made of smooth silk and crystal gemstones as if she were the seas themselves.

It would’ve been a perfect painting …

If not for the dark-haired male claiming her shoulder from behind.

In all the portraits Alora had seen, his likeness resembled the brutal perfection of kingship. The stark exemplar of authority and unmatched power. No smile sat on his striking face; his eyes cast in a darkness that equaled his wicked heart—it was a wonder how the artist had painted the emotion so perfectly. A crown of amethyst and ruby jewels on spikes of iron parted his night-dark, straight hair falling below his chest, almost as beautiful as Storm’s mane.

Magnelis was as striking as all High Fae were, but she couldn’t imagine he resembled this beauty now. Not a creature so vile. Wickedness could change a heart, it could change a face, too, she supposed.

When her eyes drifted from the painting, leaving a chill as cold as Garrik’s skin settling deep into her bones, tormented eyes stared back.

A gentle caress brushed against her mind, parting her starflames enough that she happily accepted him in.

She would have loved you.Alora almost saw it then, an emerald flare in his eyes as he stared at his mother’s likeness.I wish…His voice was low, as broken as it was inside that winter’s barn.I wish you could have met her.

Sapphires studied the canvas, falling upon Magnelis’s young face, frowning. Airathel’s painted smile traded it for a soft grin when she turned to him and thought,I think I have.

Garrik pinched his brows in silent question, but Alora simply continued to smile.

You look like your mother. And I have seen that gentle, kind spirit the histories speak about her, in you.

Confusion melted from his features as his mouth drifted into a serene smile, as if the mere thought of being like his mother thawed some frigid part of him. He was every bit as thoughtful and selfless and loving as the artist painted her to be.

Alora stepped closer to the painting, scanning it and daring to face the monster that had stolen her parents so long ago. Then she felt Garrik’s hand brush against her own.

They were silent, standing there, hands nearly touching.

Garrik’s eyes were on Magnelis’s hand, and she wondered how many scars it had carved on his body. Perhaps Garrik relived a memory just the same because he shifted uncomfortably, plucking the fabric from his abdomen before he quivered.

But this wasn’t fear.

This was building disdain.

Beast Made for Magnelis.His voice scratched like talons inside her mind when she noticed his eyes now burning into the faeling. And she knew he didn’t only mean his ruthless title. He was born to be who Magnelis wanted him to be, like any son. Groomed from birth to carry out the sinister desires of the wicked male who raised him.

It didn’t matter what Elysian said, though. She knew Garrik as something different. Not who he was Made to be but who he wanted to be—who he already was.

I don’t see any likeness of Magnelis in you.

Without a moment of thought, Garrik quickly retorted,Nothing but his wickedness.

Not even that. Darkness, yes. But not Magnelis.

Behind, wooden doors latched and footsteps approached, drawing their attention to Thalon, Jade, and Aiden entering the grand parlor. Thalon’s eyes glowed brighter than his Earned before he nodded at them, dropping the pretense of the hardened, ruthless warriors.

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