Page 100 of What Lies Within Blood & Heirs

With nothing but a nod, Garrik’s attention shifted over Thalon’s shoulder to Deimon.

“What happened?” Thalon asked.

“I do not know.” Garrik barely heard himself answer when Aiden stepped forward.

“Did Magnelis send them?”

Ice burned through Garrik’s veins at the thought. Surely if the High King knew of their treason, the entire expanse of Zyllyryon, border to border, would be cloaked with Ravens ravenous for war. It was unlikely, but even so, his answer was agitated, distant, and cold. “Ido notknow.”

Thalon pivoted to Aiden, then Garrik. “What was their intention?”

“I don’t fucking know!”Smokeshadows burst from his shoulders at the words. Misting into the air around them until they disappeared like a cloud in the wind.

Thalon turned to the soldiers slowly backing away, and ordered, “Get His Highness water.” Indicating to both of them before they bowed and rushed away. Thalon’s head swept back to Garrik with eyes of understanding while Garrik’s rippled with gratitude. He knew what Thalon was doing. Removing his soldiers in the likely event he was overcome again.

Amber eyes widened with a face that blanched. They had forgotten that Deimon remained ten steps back and waited in front of Garrik’s tent. Deimon’s throat bobbed as he dipped his chin to his chest, remaining silent.

The fear of the young soldier was enough to settle another ice shard ripping through Garrik’s veins. He relaxed his body and took another breath, saying, “It is alright, Deimon. You did your duty to protect this camp.” And meant it. His anger was not reserved for his Dragons. There was no fault within them. Only Garrik knew Alora by her scent alone. He would know herdeaf and blind. His Dragons were merely doing their duty as was expected of them.

Deimon’s head snapped up, eyes darting from their High Prince to Thalon and Aiden before a look of caution crossed his features and he genuinely asked, “Is she?—”

“Being tended to. You may go.” The mere mention of Alora made the blood in Garrik’s veins burn once more. He watched as Deimon dipped at his waist, his incredible wings catching the sunlight, and tossed Thalon a large leather bag, then walked from the Shadow Order’s firesite.

Thalon offered the leather bag to Garrik and gripped the winged pommel of his sword at his side. “We located the Raven’s camp.” Chin gesturing toward the bag Garrik was opening.

That blaring need to shatter the world returned when he saw the contents inside. Garrik glanced over his shoulder, feeling the pull to step inside Alora’s tent. Feeling the pride at what he had seen her do at that camp inside her mind. At this gloriously delicious vengeance waiting in his hand.

He closed his eyes. Searching. Asking. Waiting. Until the gaze of green eyes inside the tent opened as if they were his own, and he saw Alora on the bed under Jade’s careful watch. That steady rise and fall of her chest was there, and his knees almost buckled and fell to the dirt.

Breathing.

Alora was breathing.

And a breath-taking, porcelain glow had replaced that sheen of death on her skin.

She’ll live, Garrik.Jade’s voice filled his mind.Now go kill the fuckers who did this.

Then silver surrendered to blackened oblivion as he left Jade’s mind and speared Thalon with his gaze, wasting no time to form Smokeshadow wings on his back, and thundered, “Where?”

Abloodied, shadow-covered fist collided with the tiny bones of Arzen’s face. They heard a distinctive crack before blood streamed from his newly shaped nose.

It felt good.

More than good.

It was cosmicallyelectrifying. The vengeance of it was exactly what Garrik needed. When it was skin splitting skin andcrushing bones, there existed a simplicity in feeling what a body could endure and for how long until the screams started. Unlike his own misery, this Raven deserved every bit of pain and justice carried out in his inevitable death sentence.

Another fist.

Then another. Knocking Arzen to his side, into the pool of his blood.

“That’s going to hurt in the morning.” Thalon’s face twisted in disgust. Inked arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the iron bars of Aiden’s ship, deep below, inside the brig.

“If he lives that long.” Crouching, Aiden fisted Arzen’s hair and propped him against the ship’s wooden walls. “He now looks like something I drew with my right hand and that’s bloody well saying something. Positively the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Garrik ignored them, wiping his hands with a scrap of cloth that did little to clean them. It was too soaked in blood to make any difference.

Arzen’s fate had sealed the moment they lured Alora into the forest. And he was going to suffer for even the thought of it. Making him feel every starsdamned thing they put her through.

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