Page 71 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Silence.

She peered over her shoulder, knowing the crystal would be steamed enough that if he faced her, she wouldn’t see him bare. What she didn’t expect was a reduced, shrunken mass sitting on the shower floor.

Alora rushed to the glass, placed her hand on the door, and hissed.

Hot—scalding hot.A match to her starfire on her worst day.

Through the fog and steam, she determined he was in the middle.

Water pelted his back and arms, which were draped over his bent knees. His forearms rested over them, hands limp out front. Garrik’s neck was arched, bowing his head low, chin to chest, and drenched darkened gray hair stuck to his face.

A fallen warrior.

Smokeshadows crept under the door, finding her hand hovering near the steamed crystal. They pulled at her, as they had inside her tent. Guiding her hand to the door handle.

Shecouldn’tinvade his privacy.

But they only urged her harder until a tendril appeared and danced over the steam coating the door. Velvety smooth shadows, like silk brushing against freshly cleaned skin, curled over the glass, tracing smooth lines in the fog until they formed words on the surface.

He is giving up.

Alora blinked. Incredulous, she imagined living shadowswritingto her.

The screams are too loud tonight,they wrote.

Panic rippled across Alora’s body. It was real.

He needs you. We cannot help him.The shadows around her hand wrapped around the door handle, pulling the crystal open.

Garrik’s skin, his scars, blazed in a furious scarlet hue. Sporadic burned flesh, straight cuts, and tally marks from years of cruel weapons brutally laid on his back and shoulders, steamed in wrathful tendrils of smoke-like vapor. The merciless burn of the water streamed in liquid pathways across his mutilated death mark.

He is almost lost to us,the shadows warned on the crystal.

Her quiet, concerned whisper broke between the water pelting the stones, “If you can hear me, I’m stepping inside.”

But Garrik didn’t move. Didn’t so much as twitch as she did so.

The scalding water peppered her shoulders.

Alora hissed and moved over Garrik to shield him from the torture. She extended her arm and adjusted the temperature, wondering how he withstood such an extreme heat only to realize he suffered the water being so hot because the last one who touched him was frigidly cold.

Garrik’s voice echoed in her mind, almost feeling him pressing her palm to his chest as he had a short time ago. ‘I can hardly stand the air that touches me. But your touch … hers is … so cold.’

He still hadn’t moved as she dropped to her knees behind him, allowing the rain to soak her, too. She was so close, hands hovering near his shoulders, but didn’t dare to touch as she asked, “Can—can I touch you?”

Silence.

The shadows drew her attention.Hurry. He is almost lost.

Such urgency moved her to action. “It’s me. Alora.” The warmth of her arms wrapped around his strong shoulders. Alorapulled him against her with such gentleness he couldn’t mistake who was touching him.

It was effortless. Like every bone in his body had liquefied. He failed to resist as she drew him close. The hardened dips and swells of his muscles rested on her chest as her back drifted to the stones behind them. Garrik’s head remained bowed, eyes closed.

The High Prince of Elysian—a mere shell. Uncaring. Neglectful. Dismissive. Wholly submitting to the actions inflicted upon him. Exposed and vulnerable, surrendering to anything and anyone, allowing his life to be handled however they saw fit.

A puppet bending to the will of a master.

She’d never seen him like this. Utterly broken. Forsaking complete control.

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