Page 56 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

She dropped her plate on the pile of discarded dishes, moved toward her tent, and banded her arms around her ribs while her mind raced.

About what had happened in the barn.

About the new ache in her heart.

About Garrik—where he was and what might be happening to him.

‘Are you worried about me, clever girl?’

Tears threatened her eyes. She took another step toward her tent, imagining his words, how they’d fall from his lips. Imagining the profound relief from a simple smile, a simple breath of his true voice.

Alora’s boot dug into the ground, scraping loose stones and dirt.Say it again. Let me hear it again.Let it be real this time.

But Silence. Cold, crushing silence.

She watched darkness scatter around her feet. Slow tendrils that didn’t come from the fire, and almost misstepped when her head whipped up.

By the hitched horses outside of the amber glow?—

A figure emerged from whirling smoke and shadows. A glimmering white hue quietly stepped forward. Ghost’s mane flowed, disturbed by the cool breeze from the north. A shimmer radiated across her forehead, but Alora ignored it because in four more steps …

Muddy-gray irises found her.

And she shuddered.

Thatsomething is wrongfeeling—it was plastered across his face.

Garrik, half-unbalanced, swung his leg over the saddle and hit the ground with his knees nearly buckling at Ghost’s side, but he recovered by adjusting his armor.

Alora wondered if anyone else had seen how his leg faintly stumbled in his next step before he placed a glove-covered palm on the mare’s forehead.

Alora watched him. Saw his plagued, exhausted eyes.

Their warrior High Prince had returned but … at what cost?

Stroking Ghost’s mane before he dropped his forehead to hers, his lips moved, yet his voice was too low to hear.

Ghost seemed to understand and took a step closer to him, nudging her nose into his chest. Knocking him slightly off center before the corner of his mouth twitched.

The encounter took only seconds before Garrik unbridled her, and star-gilded shadows removed the saddle as she walked into the darkness.

Something inside Alora screamed to draw near at his approach. She extended a wary hand but withdrew it the moment she saw the anguished planes of his face. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

He hesitated.

Pale.So pale.

White knuckled around his sword pommel, muddy-gray eyes scanned his Shadow Order, entirely oblivious to his return. Garrik’s stare washaunting, straining a smile he only used when he adorned his High Prince mask.

Then his voice hoarsely cracked, “Never better.”

The moment Garrik’s tent closed behind him, he released a devastating shield and vomited violently on top of the furs.

He had barely been able to keep it contained as he suffered through the firesite, only enough to allow his Shadow Order to see he had returned. If it were not for them, he would have dawned directly into his tent.

But they needed to see him. Needed to know of his return.

His breath was excruciatingly painful. Everything that touched him, unbearable.

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