Page 217 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

He lifted a hand, though it took much longer than Garrik’s sovereignty to silence the court. When Erissa climbed the dais and took her seat beside her father all stilled, and Ladomyr addressed them, “My subjects. It has been a harrowing week under the false rule of a traitor.”

Shocked gasps and murmurs of confusion waved over the court.

Erissa flashed her canines, silencing them as her father continued, “By my daughter’s careful eye, she has released us from the High Prince and his?—”

Alora stopped listening. Caring not about his false narration and the flowery bullshit he spewed to exult him higher. She fisted her hands in front of her, testing the strength of the chains when Ladomyr’s sinister laugh bit deep into her bones.

“—High Guardsmen dispatched to hunt down his Dragon encampment?—”

Alora’s blood drained.No.Her throat tightened.Eldacar. Deimon. Calla. Draven.All her Dragons.

“—and the traitorous bastard will be returned to Galdheir for his father’s judgment at the end of the festival. May he and all those who march with him be damned to Firekeeper for this act of treason and our kingdom enriched by bringing them to meet the High King’s fair hand.”

The court clanged their crystal glasses, stabbing Alora’s ears like sharpened blades.

Ladomyr’s smile brightened with malicious glee. “Enough misfortune casting darkness over our traditions.” He turned to the princess, extending his hand to usher her from his throne and urged, “Daughter.”

Erissa beamed brighter than the crown of rubies staining her golden waves, collecting the blood-red skirt in her hand as she stepped forward. With graceful fluttering lashes, it appeared shesought to become the epitome of purity. “By my divine right, I welcome you to the Festival of Cullings.”

Ladomyr stalked forward, stretched his hands to his side?—

The floor trembled, cracking marble in symmetrical locations marked with square painted lines. Those squares crumbled, creating darkened holes. Alora hitched a breath the moment Ladomyr closed his fists and wooden pillars ascended.

On those pillars … squirming and flailing … chained to the squared platforms …

Females—not a male in sight.

Like pyres waiting to burn faeries at the stake.

Alora meant to survey each face. Not only High Fae but the countless forms of faeries shackled … but fear gripped her so critically because … because the core pillar …

No.

Fiery red hair and a glare that stole souls burned into Ladomyr.

Jade.

Adorned in battle-black leathers and her crimson cloak, she writhed in bonds shackling her arms above her head. Gaged, groaning the wooden stake behind her as a deathly growl shuddered from her chest.

Alora’s body screamed to run to her, but the shackles on her wrists and ankles prevented that. Maybe—maybeshe could have, but she didn’t have time to consider it.

Armored arms snaked around her waist and lifted her from the floor. Alora thrashed like a beast to wrap the chains around his neck, but another guardsman ripped them down, stopping her. Their movements were too fast—too swift—and in mere seconds, she was shackled to the other side of Jade’s pillar.

Jade mumbled something. Alora couldn’t decipher it but opened her mouth to speak when a cloth was shoved into hers.The warmth of Jade’s finger grasped Alora’s, interlocking them before Jade squeezed.

Alora squeezed back. Repeating the words she knew Jade couldn’t hear but hoped she could feel,I’m with you.

“My honored guests.”

Alora wanted to rip out Ladomyr’s throat—and she would. Shewould.

“I have lifted the decades-old decree. Tonight, enjoy yourselves in any way you please. Examine my crop however suits you best—touch, taste, bleed. Place your bid before nightfall and at dawn … we Hunt.” His sniveling voice halted as the court erupted in a display of repulsive exhilaration. Alora knew his attention had settled on her and Jade before he continued, “Be certain to give special attention to these two as our traitorous High Prince favored them above all else.”

Alora imagined theirattentionwould be more than calculating eyes and snickering.

As if she heard Alora’s thoughts, Erissa, cold-heartedly sneered, “The white-haired … His Highness’s Marked Onemate.” The word sounded like hot coals burning her tongue—good. “Who can demonstrate how she bleeds?”

Jade thrashed, drawing her chains taut, and unleashed what Alora knew was a flood of curses behind her gag.

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