Page 115 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Cut between the walls of the castles, royal gardens waited far below her marbled balcony. She could smell the aroma of sweet spices, the mastery of hybrid florals, a richness like wine blooming from the maze of shrubbery and vines. Leaning over the smooth balustrade, Alora glimpsed granite pillars, winding streams with pillowed benches by its side, and walkways between impeccably sculpted and towering trees. Moving among it all, small figures of High Fae nobility and dignitaries promenaded in the afternoon sun.

But inside … it was even more of a dream.

The bedroom was an extension of the castle, overhanging the mountain so the skylight above the bed would allow the stars to caress her to sleep. Surrounded by windows allowing her to see in three directions, golden ribbon gathered sheer white curtains and the hems tickled plush white furs covering a gray-washed stone floor. Beneath the windows, lamps and chaises waited. Each one practically begged to be curled up under fleece with a book in hand.

Alora imagined she would spend much time doing just that if given the chance.

Andthe bed.

Practically covered in a fresh cloud. Fluffy with glistening specks resembling raindrops sparkled across the blankets. And the pillows … like the foam of the sea. Perfectly white, perfectly soft and plump, and so many that she saw no end.

Across the bedroom, across the seating area to entertain guests, beyond the full-room closets and armoires and vanities, passed overflowing bookshelves and the coziest fireplace she’d ever seen, a soothing, constant splash drew her attention until she stood in the bathing room, gaping at?—

A waterfall.

A waterfall that flowed straight from the mountain wall and collected in a hot spring pool. Steam misted from the crystal-clear water, dancing in tendrils across the rippling surface. All the way to the far side of the room, where it escaped over the open edge of the mountain and collected in a river far below.

She couldn’t decide whether to leap onto the bed made of clouds or to sink into the steaming springfirst.

According to Garrik, dinner was in four hours, which left plenty of time to bathe away the stench of camp and deep condition her hair—a luxury she quickly missed once spotting vials of citrus-scented soaps peppering the ledge of the pool. And it was also more than enough time to rest before she’d need to prepare her attire.

Battle leathers groaning in the movement, Alora decided to choose her expected fashion before jumping into the steaming waters. Her mind settled on entering the full-roomed closet that, upon a careful glance, was littered with long fabrics and tabletops overflowing with jewelry and shoes, when something on the bedside table captured her attention.

Sealed, folded parchment with a hint of lettering in black ink. A single name written on top.

It hadn’t been there before walking into the bath. There was no mistaking who it was from because, as she inched forward, her heart fluttering expectantly, shadows coiled above it.

The scratch of the paper reminded her of cold, calloused hands.

She cracked and unfurled it. And for a moment pictured him standing there,wishinghe was.

Someone told me that a stunning white-haired queen will grace dinner tonight.

Alora scoffed but found herself smiling, tracing her thumb over the perfectly elegant penmanship.

Before her eyes, the ink faded with a lick of Smokeshadows. Perfect lines and alluring curves appeared, written as if aninvisible quill scratched at the surface. As if Garrik was there, writing beside her.

I can hardly contain my excitement.

She studied the ink. Imagining all the curves and lines and dots where his hand may have shaken. Where he could’ve hesitated, retracing his thoughts under uncertainty. But there were no blotches where the ink could have pooled. Garrik meant it. Every word.

Something warm tickled low in her belly, a flutter as she thought,Excited for dinner or?—

The ink instantly disappeared, stopping her thought before she finished.

That is not even a question.

The writing paused for a few breaths. Her heart quickened when ink continued on, filling the parchment.

Dinner, obviously.

She snorted a laugh and imagined slapping his chest. “I hate you.”

In the depths of her mind, Garrik’s dark chuckle echoed, sending more heat through her belly when the parchment went blank and filled once more.

I know.

Too easy. This was too easy. Almost dangerous.

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