Page 224 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Alora broke the barrier of darkness, sharpened branch in hand.

Scanning the field gleaming with blood-drenched bodies carefully—so carefully—while watching, listening. But it wasn’t until shivers thrummed down her spine that she glanced over her shoulder and stopped dead in the middle of the carnage.

Fingers and arms and wings. Blood so heavy she tasted iron.

Nothing else was there. Nothing in the trees or in the field.

Just those bodies. Food for the predators. Limbs for entertainment.

Alora raked over one of them. A faeling, perhaps no less than a century old, clung to another. That poor faeling’s eyes were open, staring into the glass dome above.

A faeling—a faeling. What would they have done to have warrantedthis?

She grabbed her twisting gut and retched. Cursing Ladomyr as she’d done a thousand times that day and a million more for every day they were in Kadamar. When the retching and the tears ceased, Alora gathered clothing scraps and draped them over the faeling, then with an ache in her spine, walked away.

In the forest, the scorching burn of her collar dropped her to her knees.

Alora panted, clasping her hands around the metal, and dropped onto her back seconds before glowing torches silhouetted the trees.

Then voices—snickering. Laughing.

Alive, but for how long until they fed an ally to a beast?

She’d been extremely lucky. A creature or a mutual understanding of survival had thwarted any encounter with a faerie so far. One look in a fellow female’s eyes, one quick nod, and a hasty step backward had been enough to show she wasn’t hostile. The few she’d met near a stream or crumbling corner of ruins were likewise motivated to not meet their end by each other’s fist or sharpened branch.

But she wasn’t foolish enough to imagine this group would be the same.

Not with the blood staining their arms.

Or the conniving to weed out who remained.

The burning pain of her collar stopped. For a fleeting moment, Alora thanked Silas, no matter the bastard he was. That collar had saved her life and allowed her to remain unharmed as they passed by.

When the glow of torchlights succumbed to darkness, Alora stood, clinging to her spear. The thrum of the crowd had fractured enough she didn’t need to peek through the trees to know spectators had filtered from their seats to find solace in their beds. Only the few that thrived in darkness remained, hoping for more bloodshed under the night sky.

She was halfway to the tower when those glowing torches flickered again, far in the distance, far enough away she wouldn’t be seen. Then a voice like drinking lifeblood drawled from above, “Most endeavor to thank me when I save their life.”

Alora warded off rolling her eyes and tightened her grip on the spear. Grinding her teeth, she spat, “Saved my life? You threw me in here.” Possiblyeveryonein there.

Silas leaned a lavishly ornate hip and elbow against the railing as the chattering of two royals passed him by. Alora scanned their immaculate, clean attire, imagining what a sight she was with mud and sweat and grime as he flicked a speck from his jacket and deepened a sigh. “Release your claw yet, Dragon?” Ignoring her outburst.

I will. And when I do, it’ll go right through your eye.Then again …

Why wait?

Before Silas could stop her, Alora reeled back and launched the spear. Whistling through the air as it careened toward the spymaster’s face. His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t move.

She tried not to look too thrilled the closer it flew. But when the wooden tip simply faded through Silas’s face as if he were a mirage, Alora tensed. Her spear plummeted to the other side, stabbing into the dirt.

What the hell?

Silas sighed. The crimson in his eyes tapered with unnerving focus before he said, “If that will be all, Your Highness. I do believe that tower is vacant and most of Ladomyr’s beasts havesought slumber.” Was hehelpingher? “Do not disappoint me tomorrow.”

As if she cared about disappointing Silas.

Alora wanted to say it but clenched her jaw to keep the snide retort from slipping from her tongue when Silas disappeared. Leaving her alone in the shadows that she missed terribly, which danced around her, pleaded for her to draw them near, to find their master.

Hitching a half-sobbing breath, Alora brushed her fingers through the darkness, catching a glimpse of whorling shadows in her ring, allowing liquid to line her eyes as she looked over her shoulder through the trees to the balcony. To her bloody mate on the wooden stake. And forced her feet forward while her heart remained behind.

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