Page 218 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Hour after hour,Erissa got her wish.

Jade’s hands never stopped squeezing hers.

I’m with you. I’m with you. I’m with you.

Alora’s head was angled over her shoulder, eyes sealed as she trembled and leaned her tear-stained cheek against whatever part of Jade she could reach. She focused on Jade’s starfire ring, rolling it with her thumb as Jade did the same to Garrik’s Smokeshadow ring when a lord scraped a dull skewer dripping with juices of fire-roasted beef across Alora’s mate mark.

A male in an iridescent moonstone suit and amethyst tie said to Silas, “Seems to take well to pain. Perhaps a decent bid.” That voice … seemed familiar.

Silas revealed nothing, his face a work of cut stone, wholly bored.

“Come now, Silas. Are you not bidding this Hunt?” The male mused as others strolled around the platforms like they were window shopping for a new dress.

That bloodlust landed on a stream of crimson, which slowly disappeared inside Alora’s stained robe. “This crop intrigues me little,” was all Silas said before his attention faded. Cupping his hands behind him, the spymaster strolled along the offerings, to which most were claimed.

Alora trembled, taking in the rain-kissed celosia scent of Jade’s hair and another squeeze of her hand when Ladomyr announced, “Fortune has it that I am feeling charitable. A second Culling is yours for bidding.” Clapping stabbed her senses, causing her to wince as the throne room doors opened. Ladomyr continued, “My beasts for your consideration!”

Whimpers from the platforms were enough to imagine what terrible creatures—males—arrived. Snarls and animalistic shrieks tore through the room, but Alora didn’t carry the strength to open her eyes. She’d see them on the battlegrounds soon enough.

But Jade’s thrashing started again. The murderous growls from her throat worse than the beasts entering the roombeckoned Alora to peer through slits at the metal cages passing by.

Something wrathful returned energy to her body. She wasn’t sure how the pillar withstood the force as she pulled and pulled and pulled against the chains, gaining as little as an inch.

That knife was still embedded in his shoulder, not allowing it to heal. He looked half-gone.

Alora screamed—screamedso terribly it tore her throat raw.

Garrik’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and lifeless.

She screamed again. Not for her own pain, but for his.

The cold clang of metal bounced over every bar of his cage. Ladomyr trailed the tip of a sword across each spindle as he circled, standing behind her mate slumped against it, tunic glistening with blood.

A golden wolf the size of a reike snarled the moment Ladomyr fisted Garrik’s hair, slamming his head back into the bars.

Garrik barely made a sound.

Then Ladomyr said, “I do love watching Magnelis’s son suffer by my hand.” The king slid his attention to Silas, who had appeared at the caged wolf’s side. “Spymaster, what beast shall I deem him to be?”

The corner of Silas’s lip curled upward, then melted to perfect calm. “Perhaps the High King would wish his heir to be returned to the castle instead of risking a merciful death. A spear to his neck doesn’t seem to suffice, wouldn’t the king agree?”

Far to the back of the room, a bestiary shriek of a nightdiver and the deafening screech of a griffin rattled the chandeliers while females whimpered.

The king frowned like a precious trinket had been taken away. He flicked Garrik’s head to the side, dropping him to the floor in a heap before wiping blood on Silas’s shoulder, who grimaced in disgust.

Ladomyr sighed. “Must you ruin my fun?” the king growled and began to walk away when movement in the cage stirred him to a stop.

“Listen very carefully, Ladomyr.” Even slurring, Garrik’s voice was edged with damnation. That thing of nightmares prowled just under the surface, demanding to be unleashed the moment his magic returned. “I will kill you. But before I do, I will ensure you suffer unimaginable pain. You willbegfor death.” Garrik’s head pivoted on the blood-soaked floor, meeting the russet eyes of the pacing wolf before staring at Alora. For a moment, his dulled silver scanned the blood—and the crisp lines cut down her underarms and crisscrossed on her chest, on the mark that belonged to him.

Ladomyr merely snorted.

The thing of nightmares… It awakened.

Garrik slammed into the iron bars and crushed the king’s throat.

Weapons slipped from their sheaths as High Guardsmen swarmed.

Her mate’s hold tightened. Ladomyr scratched and clawed at shackle-scarred wrists.

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