Page 182 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Slowly, so so slowly, they turned to the voice and two figures casting shadows of finery down the hallway.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to release my beasts from their cages.” A twisted grin captured Ladomyr’s face. Another on his general, Kyrell’s. “What a delight to see you’ve finally taken an interest in our traditions. And to havecaught yourself a Dragon, no less. You can leave now. I will take her from here.”

Some part of her screamed to stab Soulstryker into the male’s skull. But Ezander’s arm carefully glided in front of her, cupped her side, and drew her behind him as he stepped forward. Risking a threat in one word, “Father?—”

“We can skip the dramatics, son. This plaything is mine. Move.” Their stares locked. Ezander didn’t budge. Ladomyr’s gaze darkened to something insidious, and cruel, as he snarled like the bears on Kadamar’s crest. “You defy your sovereign,boy?”

“Might I remind the king of the High Prince’s instruction regarding?—”

“I remember everythingquitewell.” Malice pierced Alora over Ezander’s shoulder. She curled her lip, baring her canines at Ladomyr when he spoke. “How I was made to play the fool on my knees in front ofmycourt,twice.” He prowled forward, but Ezander’s hand fell to his sword as Kyrell’s fell to his.

The king narrowed on the movement and cocked his bald head. “What are you going to do with that? Kill your king?” It seemed more of a challenge than anything.

Alora was certain she would witness the death of an heir, and, before she could stop herself, placed her hand on Ezander’s.

His grip loosened, falling from the hilt to tuck their hands behind his back.

“Do not make me command you again, Ezander.” An outright warning. But Ladomyr’s words… They began to slow, almost slurred, as slow as the faelights flickers had fallen. “You will surrender her to me.” The words required a full minute to understand.

Ezander’s finger was moving—pointing—behind his back. So slow. So trance-like.

Every movement felt as if she were swimming underwater. Rippling through the hallway as she watched Zander’s finger point straight and then draw back to gesture left. Over and over, he repeated it. And she knew this was him giving her a chance to escape.

As if wading through thick mud, Alora ran.

Restrained by time enough she could see every grain in the wooden doors and speck of dust floating in the air. Ran to the end of the hallway and squelched around the left corner and continued running until time slammed into her.

Something cracked behind her.

But Alora kept running.

She didn’t stop. Not until she met the throne room doors.

Thalon paced under the cloak of moonlight while Garrik and Aiden stood stiff, talking. Their words, though hushed and calm, carried a weight dancing along the garden trees until they met Alora on an iron-wrought bench.

In the solace of Garrik’s shield, each syllable, each troubling word stabbed another wound in her heart as Aiden explained the vault he had opened left them with nothing yet again.

Somewhere inside the gardens, metal met metal. Jade had been granted leave to train with Deimon while the rest of them left the throne room. Alora hadn’t yet explained what’d happened with Ezander, but the time would come.

And now, sitting under the stars, she didn’t feel any better than when she’d left the throne room to search Erissa’s chambers.

Now, she felt worse.

Wrapping her arms around her knees, Alora clung to her ballgown. Hating the excessive amount of fabric, the golden swirls of gemstones like sun rays, the color red. If she never had to see that color again, she’d be happy.

Bloodwas red. Endlessly taunting them when their efforts so far were futile.

Alora’s eyes had fallen near vacant when something cold slipped beside her. She only needed to blink to realize her males had moved. Aiden and Thalon strode away, flexing their biceps and knocking into each other’s chest, when Garrik’s warm voice spoke.

“They are going to spar if you wish to join.”

She wouldn’t mind. Maybe it would release the frustration. But when Garrik sat beside her and draped his arm along the back of the bench, she decided to remain there. Alora flexed her numb fingers that held her gown tightly and let her bare feet drop to the grass, leaning back to feel his cold arm soothing her neck.

Aiden and Thalon squared off inside the center of shrubbery landscaped in a circle, creating a makeshift sparring ring—enough she could see from their knees up. Despite the chilly night and mountain air, Thalon unbuttoned his tunic and tossed it over the foliage while Aiden followed the same.

Garrik settled his attention on the first swing of Aiden’s fist.

But Alora’s attention was more fixed on the way their tattoos moved in the moonlight. How their muscles tightened and flexed under incredible strength and reflexes. The hardened curves of their biceps and flinching abs. The V of muscles extending down into their waistlines. How sweat dripped along the creatures inked into both their skin.

---