Page 258 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Ezander said, “He was a terrible father. A terrible ruler. And now my sister sits on his throne, and she is worse than he was.”

From the hallway, male voices carried. Alora could’ve kissed them for the distraction. Ezander certainly needed it.

Garrik’s voice echoed around the door. Then she saw that silken gray hair and the enchanting eyes of her High Prince as he said, “When I return, we will speak with Nikolouse. It is time to call on Elysian’s armies. Magnelis’s time is at its end.”

Ezander folded his arms over his chest and called across the room, “Not all of my father’s soldiers were loyal. We will have support from deserters in Kadamar when the call arises. My sister may be falsely ruling, but they will know who the kingdom chose as its sovereign.”

“Try not to boast too much,old friend,” Garrik taunted as he and Thalon crossed the floor and stood at the bottom of the bridge. Ezander only smirked as Garrik offered his hand to Alora. Smokeshadows coiled around it, and with a smile as bright as starlight, asked, “Ready, my love?”

With a quick nod, creeping darkness tendriled from his shoulders—from hers too. That ring on her finger danced wildly inside the crystal, and she felt Garrik’s powers ebb a little. Engulfed in whorling shadows and misting ash, Alora managedwith a little help from her mate to turn them into nothingness inside the Dawnspace and dawn to camp.

Garrik’s tent, to her surprise, was still standing. The entire camp was. She had imagined when Thalon and their Shadow Order portaled to the border of Zyllyryon and the Blackstone Mountains last night, that not a speck of dust or footprint would remain.

Despite the rain, Alora noticed a few belongings in open canvases as her boot sunk in mud. Tents were fluttering open,soaked from the storm. Fires drenched, hitching lines broken, weapon racks emptied.

Before they ducked inside his tent, Smokeshadows dawned the Shadow Order’s canvases away. No doubt erected in Dellisaerin. Aiden and Eldacar were sure to be thrilled as soon as they saw their precious books and bounty returned.

Thunder rattled the ground.

She listened to rain pebbling on the canvas while Garrik rustled through maps and correspondence on his table, dawning the stacks away to … she never knew where exactly.

Thalon had decided on searching tents for the remaining Dragons while Aiden and Jade retained their duties in Dellisaerin, overseeing the new camp settlement with Eldacar and Ezander by their side.

Alora sunk into Garrik’s pillows, content to listen to the thunderstorm, and pulled Soulstryker from its sheath. Twisting the tip on her finger, marveling at the whorls and embellishments, at the handle and empty setting waiting for Blood and Death.

The bed dipped, and she may have taken a little longer to meet his eyes. If she looked inside, not a trace of serpent darkness would stir—not since walking the steps inside his mind that morning. Her gaze raked over the sword by his side, his muscles, up those solid arms and chest.

Garrik gave her that irritating—irresistible—smirk and held out his hand, motioning for Soulstryker. When the serrated obsidian blade balanced in his palm, Garrik produced the gemstone they had suffered for and cautiously held it over the empty teardrop setting.

“It won’t be like last time,” Alora murmured as he hesitated, settling her chin on his shoulder.

Garrik loosened a deep sigh. His thumb traced the cut of the stone, the rigid edges and point, the curve of the bottom.The stone met leather as Garrik vowed, “One step closer to Magnelis’s death.” He swallowed hard, and clenching his eyes, settled Blood in place.

Lightning cast a crimson hue across the canvas. Thunder cracked, rattling the furniture.

Pearlescent light gleamed along the canvas walls first. Alora could’ve sworn she heard a female voice humming like the first breath of life. Then a rich ruby glow sparkled along with it. It illuminated Garrik’s tent in shards of red, pulsing like a flawless heartbeat.

It didn’t stop—the light show. Continuing as if inviting another to join.

But when nothing did, the humming and pulsing died.

Alora imagined heartbreak. As if stones could feel an empty loss. Pain.

She brushed her finger along the hilt. Along the empty coffin setting. Feeling the sister stones’ grief.

“Kerimkhar said that perhaps these stones can lead to the last,” Garrik confessed and handed Soulstryker to her. He stood, offered his hand, and pulled her to her feet. Frigid hands cupped her waist, adding, “Aiden’s book might provide instruction.”

“We’ll find it,” Alora promised, voice stern. “Then once Soulstryker is complete, devise a plan for who in Galdheir deserves death by wielding it. Even if we have to force them to.” As Aiden had planned to do, avenging his best friend—his sister’s husband.

Garrik’s face paled before his attention snapped to the entrance. For a heartbeat, his eyes went distant. When he turned to her, he smiled as shadows caressed her mind, dancing past her wall of flames until Thalon’s voice began.

Our missing Dragons have returned. We’re waiting outside. So, whatever you two are doing…That warm voice carried something like judgment, but it was more of a tease thananything.Wrap it up if it isn’t already. It’s miserable out here, and my tent is gone.

Alora snorted.Wecankeep our hands off each other, you know.

Garrik smirked, squeezing her hip bones.

She shot him a glare.

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