Page 125 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Away from Magnelis’s throne.

Garrik scanned the crowd until his malevolent expression drifted over the king’s wives, then snapped to Ladomyr hiding within them. Looking down on Ladomyr as if the mere sight of him was offensive, Garrik straightened his sleeves and took extra care to run his thumb over the black sapphire buttons.

Then a voice that summoned nightmares danced at the very edge of death as he said, “I hope you do not mind.” A touch of malice twisted his wicked face. “The guest list needed some”—Garrik snapped his fingers; a lord’s neck snapped—“adjustments.”

Whimpers undulated, which caused the Savage Prince’s eyes to darken more in delight.

Shadows fell off his shoulders and tendriled around him, boots entirely hidden by a Smokeshadow veil. That fog crept down the steps and crawled up Ladomyr’s legs like damned souls attempting to escape Firekeeper’s pits. They forced him to stumble forward onto the open floor between the court and dais.

Garrik ran his tongue along his razor-sharp teeth as he surveyed a beautifully crafted wooden crown; gold was melted into the grain and covered in gemstones of reds, greens, and yellows that were set into polished tree branches stemming from it. A timeless symbol of Land and Growth.

The room fell colder.

Chandeliers rattled as the Savage Prince growled, “Youdareto wear a crown in my presence?” The power of Death Triumphant devastated the air and surged through the room. Every shaking breath turned to clouded vapor.

Smokeshadows tendriled up Ladomyr, gathering around his crown.

A breath later, it was gone.

Reclining, his face a work of perfect stone, Garrik widened his legs as he lazily twisted his palm upright. Shadows whorled around his finger and faded away, revealing the millennia-old crown of Kadamar …

Now hanging on the Heir of Zyllyryon’s black-veined finger.

Shadows slowly engulfed it as if to draw out pain. Curling like a disease as Garrik’s unmoving gaze pierced Ladomyr’s. And as the king deepened a breath of contempt through gnashed teeth, the crown misted to dust. Falling to the marbled steps below Garrik’s polished boots.

Ladomyr fisted his hands at his side, face tightening in a silent snarl.

“What a shame…” Snickering, Garrik brushed a fleck of dust from his shoulder, then inspected his fingernails without regarding the court. “That seemed like it meant something to you.” And without a care, turned his darkened eyes to the king. A flicker of all-ending power swept lethal warning over the court. “Never wear a crown in my presence again.”

The king said nothing. Only, his scorching glare radiated the unspoken.

“I did not hear you, Ladomyr. Was there something you meant to say?” Garrik scanned his fingernails once more as sharpened claws began growing.

“Yes,” Ladomyr hissed between his teeth.

Garrik barked a wicked laugh. “Yes?” He paused and cocked his head with animalistic prowess. “Yeswhat,kingling? Do speak up. I believemycourt cannot hear you.”

At the insult, Ladomyr’s face heated, but he managed to sneer, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Below the dais, movement in the crowd caught Alora’s attention.

One of the wives … wassmiling. Her downcast gaze raked to Alora before that smile went rigid. Instead of acknowledging it, Alora scanned the court, the scowling faces. Many held a look of petrified abandon while most appeared to want to crawl into the deepest hole they could find to escape the Savage Prince’s attention.

She almost wished Kaine had been invited so she could stand above him, reveling in him submitting on his knees before true nobility.What a sight that would be.

“Dine. Before I grow bored and select someone for my entertainment.” Garrik lazily flicked his wrist, dismissing the court.

But no one moved, too foolish or terrified to.

Annoyance rippled across Garrik’s face. He needed nothing more than the slow, menacing quirk of his brow for servants to begin warily moving.

The gleam from the faelight chandeliers returned and beamed off their perfectly polished silver trays as they weaved through the multitude of finery.

A deep chuckle brushed like velvet on the walls of Alora’s mind.

She pulled her attention from a female dressed in a ballgown as hideous as the ones Kaine used to dress her in and glanced up the dais steps before thinking,What could possibly be so amusing?

Her vision shifted. From high above, seeing through Garrik’s eyes, everything darkened. Every bright surface dulled to grayscale. The purple rug was cast in a dark gray while the threads decorating it were now white. Not one gown or suit held color.

---