Page 116 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Alora spun on her heel and plummeted backward, falling to the plushness of pillows on her bed. She studied those two simple words, and with a taunting grin, murmured, “I hear there will be a dreadfully reserved High Prince there tonight. That all the courtiers will desire to dance with. I can’t possibly imagine why.”

She could’ve sworn she heard a sharp laugh seep through the ceiling.

He sounds quite charming. Mysterious. Perhaps I will dance with him, too.

So, so easy.

Alora rolled her lip between her teeth when he wrote again.

Though I am sure no one will be looking at him. Not with you in the room.

“Stop.”She blushed, eyes burning for a moment. The inside of her nose filled with pressure as she blinked away tears. Though she didn’t know why, or perhaps, refused to acknowledge why, they threatened to fall.

Save a dance for me? I will be the one wearing black.

“Of course you will…” And her blood emptied entirely.

Visions of a small ballroom flooded her memory. Expensive fabrics, mounds of gowns, and finery laced amassed with pompous tongues and scrutinizing eyes. A hard elbow for her hand to hold while she unnoticeably trembled. Music anddancing and laughter flowed around her perfectly poised and stiff body, which wasdisplayedagainst the outer walls.

Nothing but a trophy.

Alora’s throat constricted, and those tears molded into cursed longing and pain.

No.Her snarl commanded the tears to recede, threatening them to draw away.

She was no longer Kaine’s trophy. She was much more than that. No longer the lady of a lord who collected pain as pleasure. No longer the female in his shadow, the ornament for his status.

She was more.So much-starsdamned-more.

Alora gritted her teeth and allowed the single thought of a dance with Garrik to roll over her in a blissful wave and whispered to the parchment, “I can hardly wait to see you, too.”

A gentle knockhad her jolting upright, only to bite down a curse when she noticed how dim the afternoon sun had become. Hiding behind the peaks, it showcased precisely how much time had passed after her eyes had drifted closed.

Another knock.

Dinner.Starsdamnit.

That panic settled deep in her bones as she rushed to her door. Rich, glowing, golden eyes gleamed down at her, along with a pinched, confused expression.

Thalon rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “I came to escort you.” He stepped back. Had it not been for his voice, she wouldn’t have recognized him. The fine silverstitching of his dark gray waistcoat shimmered in the hallway’s faelights. His incredible shadow did, too.

Alora fought to remember there was a skilled warrior standing before her. Gaping at the tattoos combined with clothing fit for royalty. Scanning, and with considerable surprise, noticing no golden sword in a scabbard bound to his back.

“No one has tended to you?” Thalon asked, breaking her stare. Leaning forward into the threshold, he scanned the suite, confused.

“No I?—”

“My lady!” At a pace much quicker than Alora’s panicking heart, a brown-skinned female rushed down the hallway. Her pearly-white feathered wings were tucked in tight as long, tight teal curls bounced over her shoulders and her purple dress. “My deepest apologies. I should have been more insistent earlier. When I knocked, there was no answer. It was not my intention to make you late for dinner.”

Thalon gave her a long, considering scowl, then turned to Alora.

Odd.

“It’s okay,” she told the maidservant before glancing at Thalon. That critical glower still hadn’t receded before she spoke to him. “I’ll be just a minute.”

A nod from Thalon.

So, Alora returned to her suite, determined to grab the first gown she could find when his voice simmered with fury.

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