Page 95 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

Then he could cry.

Out of the tree line, their steps slowed. She wanted to scream, call to the sentries she knew were shadowed at the top of the hill. But nothing more than a whisper escaped her dried lips.

Arzen tugged the rope connected to his shackles, pulling her backward, refusing another inch.

If she had the strength, she’d send her fist directly between his eyes.

They had made it far enough. All she needed to do was climb the hill. The Dragons could attend to the rest.

But he slammed himself down to his knees. Twisting a devilish smile around the purple cloth gag that she’d forced on him because of his incessant protests.

Alora’s veins filled with screaming pricks of pain as she balled her fist. Not entirely sure if any blow she could musterwould do anything at all other than sting him. But before she reeled her arm back and slammed into his nose?—

Shouts—beautiful, alarming, deadly shouts.

Thank the stars.

Rushing footsteps tore from behind them. From the hill.

Relief bubbled in her chest, overwhelming her enough that she almost lost her breath completely in a choked-off sob. Whorling, the realm continued to spin when she stopped and stumbled forward.

Alora expected to see the sentries rushing to her. Expected to see swords drawn and battle-black armor siege the Raven in silver armor and purple cloak.

What she didn’t expect was the blade atherthroat.

Deimon, one of Garrik’s personal guards, kicked the back of her knees and forced her to the ground with a pained grunt. “Identify yourself in the name of the High Prince,” his roughened voice demanded.

Resisting unconsciousness from the sudden change in air pressure, her lungs protested. Still, she choked out, “Alor?—”

“Ravens!” someone shouted behind her before a hand fisted her blood-soaked hair.

They didn’t recognize her.

Not with all the blood.

Deimon dipped his face inches from her clouded vision and pulled her chin high in an iron grip. His amber eyes lit to crimson. Rage filled his stunning face. “Why are you here? Who sent you?”

Chaos erupted, swirling around her as she fought to remain upright. Footsteps thundered over the hill. Shouting, screaming, carrying torches to light the hill and the valley.

Alora whimpered, trying to focus, to tell them who she was, but her body decided she had traveled far enough—and she haddoneenough.But of course, now it betrayed her.

What if they secured her somewhere in camp? She hadn’t been privy to any interrogations and had never once seen prisoners there. Didn’t know who conducted such things. The risk of war and Magnelis discovering them was so high. Surely no one would believe her when she told them who she was. She wouldn’t be dismissed so easily.

That sword at her throat pinched harder. She hissed at its bite and the trickle of warmth dripping down her skin. “Speak or I swear, we only need one of you to talk.”

Someone laughed—snickeredbehind her. Arzen. The prick was still awake.

Deimon’s sword pressed harder.

Above the chaos, she heard flapping wings and blinked away the hallucination that she’d seen pearly-white feathers shoot from the night sky, licked by beaming rays of lightning before the ground shook. And then their owner landed atop the hill.

No one in camp had feathery white wings.

Then a familiar voice roared with brimstoned fury, “Get the prisoners gagged and bound until His Highness returns.”

Her heart leapt and fell all the same.

Garrik wasn’t there.

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