Page 53 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

“Garrik,” Thalon warned, eyes widened like the light was nothing but a dull shadow.

“I saw it too.” Garrik’s eyes darkened as he sheathed the dagger in Alora’s belt, snuffing out Life’s glow, and snarled,“Fucking Kerimkhar.”

Thalon stiffened—and that unusual shadow behind him brightened. “The symbol of Land and Growth. Do you suppose …”

Garrik nodded. “Blood is in Kadamar.” A muscle ticked in his cheek. “A ruby. I should have known.” He stepped forward, stretching his arms to his sides as Smokeshadows stormed around them.

In the midst of ash and tendrils of darkness, their bodies became nothingness, weightless, like the very air itself as her High Prince began dawning them from that place.

Then Alora’s voice called out as spring turned to darkened night, “What’s so terrible about Kadamar?”

“Ladomyr is Magnelis’s closest ally,”Garrik said, pacing the Shadow Order’s firesite. “Theonlyking remaining in power over his kingdom since Magnelis’s ascension to the throne. Ladomyr is lavished with Galdheir’s finest exports in return for his impressive fealty. Brennus’s Ravens specifically trained his armies. They are every bit as ruthless and skilled as the High King’s elite.”

“Not to mention his fuckingHunt,” Jade hissed and thrust a sword into a tree nearby. “And we’ll be walking into his Festival of Cullings.” Bark splintered as Jade pushed her boot into the trunk, wrenching the blade away.

Garrik palmed her shoulder. “We will not stay long enough for that.”

Jade’s jaw tightened as she tore a dagger from its sheath. With flawless skill, she launched it into the tree before grabbing two more. They sliced through the air, striking either side of the first dagger, all within a hair from each blade like three perfect bullseyes.

Spewing venom in a heated rant, Jade loosened her tongue and stretched beyond the common language with words from another world. Temper rising as hot as the color of her hair.

Alora recognized a few words. ‘Ladomyr’ and a repeated word she determined as ‘fuck’ until Aiden stormed forward and grabbed her shoulders with a harsh shake.

“Bloody hells! Stop speaking Torgalian. We have to leave on another gloriously heroic adventure, and none of us speak Torgalian.”

She shoved Aiden away and tore another dagger from her thigh. “Ladomyr designed his disgusting traditions from texts about my world—the fighting pits of Torgal. He uses his kingdom’s magic to create beasts and manipulate land like clay. This is a monumentallyfuckedidea.”

Garrik stepped beside Aiden. “You can remain here, Jade, if?—”

“Not a chance in Firekeeper-filled-hell,” Jade snarled, turned, and ripped her daggers from the tree. Fuming a bright shade of scarlet, she blew through camp like a hurricane and vanished into her tent. If it wasn’t for the chilled breeze from the north, steam would’ve flowed from the tops of her canvas.

Alora had been on the bad side of that temper too many times to know to stay out.

Beside Garrik’s tent, steps approached.

Sentries adorned in scaled leathers hastened their way between the canvases before Deimon, a black-haired faerie withnight-dark feathered wings, pulled forward and extended a missive. “Sire. A raven arrived outside the shield two mornings past, carrying this.”

Garrik stiffened. His attention snapped to a rolled parchment in Deimon’s hand. Purple wax, pressed in a circle with the High King’s crest, sealed it.

Outstretching his palm to the male, Garrik ripped the seal and unrolled it. Scanning deliberately, jaw tightening with each pass of the ink.

Alora’s heart thundered, and an ache settled deep into her fingertips remembering the last time Garrik received a missive like this. When Nevilier had summoned him—Magnelis’s half-skeletal, abnormally large raven. When he was unsure if he’d ever return to them alive.

She almost stepped forward to grip his shoulder. But to stop him, deny him from leaving, or to plead that he stay? She wasn’t sure which.

Garrik deepened a sigh—and she wondered if that missive demanded him away.

But he shook his head and crumbled the paper before Smokeshadows ripped it apart, turning it to dust and flakes of dried ink. “Brennus,” he growled. “Demands my presence in the east.” His jaw set tight, threatening to crack teeth when he added,“Immediately.”

Deimon nervously shifted, and those incredible wings flared. “Orders, sire?”

“We will dawn to Kadamar’s border within the week. Alert the generals.” Garrik then said to Thalon, who unsheathed his familial, runed sword from his back, “Prepare for Ladomyr’s defenses in the meantime. It has been some time since we trained in Kadamar’s tactics. I want every soldier and Mystic prepared if our efforts there are futile.”

Thalon stepped forward. That usually bright voice shifted to something sharp, unnerving her. “I’m going with you. Brennus won’t be happy you kept him waiting for two days.”

Garrik squared his shoulders, took on that quality of authority only his High Prince mask executed, and rumbled, “I am perfectly capable of handling Brennus. Your leadership is required here.”

Something unspoken burned in Thalon’s eyes, but Garrik’s darkened in warning. Their Guardian released a heavy sigh, carefully pleading, “Garrik … Jade and Aiden?—”

---