Chapter 32
R are black sapphire gems served as buttons on Garrik’s onyx jacket sleeve. The vision of masculine power. But indecision clouded his features as he debated whether to sit and wait or lean against the gold-stained wooden railing at the base of Ladomyr’s main staircase.
So, he paced instead. Silently grumbling about the added fabric constricting his movements.
He would much rather wear a simple tunic and pants. But there was something even more threatening about a beast in a suit of finery. Knowing that inside the pristine jacket, decorated with swirls of matte smoke-like embellishments, a dormant monster itched to release his talons.
And he would.
Tonight would just be the start.
After all, a blade in its sheath still poses as much of a threat as one drawn.
Trees that broke through the mountain skylights shaded Aiden, who leaned against one of ten considerable oaks growing within the blackstone walls. And settled against the staircase railing, Thalon’s critical stare followed Garrik’s pacing, even when he stopped to glower at a portrait of a blond male adorned in Kadamarian armor, crowned with a golden circlet.
“Might I make a suggestion?” It was Thalon’s voice echoing through the chaos of servants rushing by. Carrying plates of food or drink, some with table decorations or over-extravagant flower arrangements, others with linens, plates, or dinnerware.
“No,” Garrik answered, still glowering at the painting. At those russet eyes.
“An observation then?”
Garrik sighed and gestured vaguely. It was not a yes but also not a no.
“You’re nervous.”
Silently scoffing, Garrik turned, dropped his back against the wall, and crossed his arms in Thalon’s direction. “Of course not.”
Thalon’s answering smile was all-knowing, stealing a glance with Aiden as his baiting grin turned menacing.
Garrik leveled them a threatening glare.
“I think perhaps a certain fe?—”
“Finish that sentence, Thalon, and I will order you to guard the doors instead of dinner.” Garrik’s voice took on a sportive quality of warning, and Thalon dared … actually dared to open his mouth to speak, but instead, wisely, only shook his head with a sly grin.
Whether Garrik could admit it or not, Thalon was right.
Why in Firekeeper-filled-hell was he so nervous?
He had fought in battles of far greater risk than walking into a throne room for dinner, but none of them made his heart race quite like this.
Aiden pulled a golden watch from his captain’s black dress coat and checked it for the fourth time. “Twenty minutes late.” The watch snapped shut, and he pocketed it, disturbing the brass buttons, and dramatically sighed.
“Somewhere important to be?” Garrik arched a brow and mindlessly dawned his belt and sword sheath to his palm, and as he was beginning to guide it through his belt loops, Aiden’s shale eyes rolled in theatrical agony.
Shoulder-length ebony hair flattened against the tree, and Aiden closed his eyes with another drawn-out grumble. “I’m bloody hungry,” he whined.
The corners of Garrik’s mouth twisted, and he may have admitted to himself how much he had missed Aiden all those months.
Smokeshadows whorled in his palm. This time, the leather pommel of his sword groaned in his grip before he maneuvered it to be sheathed when he turned his gaze to their Guardian to say?—
A figure atop the staircase stole the air from Garrik’s lungs.
Followed by a loud clang on the floor.
The sword Garrik had moved to sheath … was at his feet.
Just laying there like a soldier on their first day of training; too young, too na?ve, too inexperienced to wield a blade.
And the High Prince of Elysian’s sword— his starsdamned sword —was laying there.
Like a damned fool.
He suddenly realized why he was so nervous.
Because descending that staircase … she was a Stars Eternal dream.
White hair glowing with ethereal beauty was sculpted in a crown of braids. Loose curls spilled over the dark silk draped around her shoulders. Breath-taking beauty swept across her face, those incredible eyes, and he had to battle the vicious urge not to drop to his knees in surrender.
This was an urge far greater than keeping the serpent darkness at bay, this … this was impossible.
He almost forgot who he was. Almost forgot his starsdamned name or where he stood?—
“I’ve never seen you drop your sword. Not once,” Thalon interrupted.
But still Garrik could not speak. Unable to form anything but her name.
Alora.
She descended the staircase in front of Jade. Time seemed to be this distant, enduring thing. A moment long-lived as his gaze slowly swept over her. From her bare feet on the crimson rugs, up the smooth silk of onyx fitted tight to her curves. Over the gemstones scattered like stars in the night, the flowing scarf draped delicately around the curve of her shoulders.
Garrik’s dilated eyes fell on the plummeting neckline caressing the swell of her breasts and stopped above her navel.
Curse the stars . Garrik’s sanity almost escaped him.
But he felt her then. Sensed something like panic rippling through her mind when he noticed the terror she desperately attempted to hide. A terror he had seen so many times, knowing exactly why her knees were shaking. Why her knuckles whitened around the railing and the torment caused her skin to blanch with each trembling step.
He stepped forward. Fuck. He should have met her upstairs. Silver burned into her, and those eyes like gemstones found his when he called to her across their tether, You are staring. It is making me quite uncomfortable.
There she was, those sapphires widening when she heard his voice.
How could I not? she retorted. You take up the entire room. Hard to look at anything else.
In such a short time, she descended ten more steps, never faltering. Thinking about my body, clever girl? You scandalize me so.
Five more. Only eight steps from the bottom now. He stepped closer to the base.
She scoffed, but her cheeks swelled with that gorgeous smile that always brightened her eyes. In your damned dreams. I should light your ass aflame for that remark.
So, it is my ass you are thinking of? If you want it that badly, you need only ask.
Three more steps remaining.
I know what you’re doing.
Oh? Garrik hummed in wicked satisfaction as he extended his palm, waiting for the moment her soft skin met the calluses of his.
Alora’s palm found his, and he tightened his grip, ushering her to the rugs below as she said, “Thank you.” Alora’s smile beamed.
He regarded her slight hesitation—and how her lips rolled between her teeth and her gaze flickered to his cheek as if to kiss it. Later, he intended to remind her what that little gesture did to him.
Garrik warded off the urge to adjust his buckle. Warded off lifting his thumb to run it across her lips as he drawled, “I have no idea whatever for.” Tightening his jaw to keep from grinning, the silver in his eyes darkened, raking over her. And for a moment, the only thing he focused on was her breath. The near-silent sound she made when his thumb brushed the back of her hand.
Alora released his palm and rolled her lips between her teeth, nervously—and he needed her to stop doing that.
“I didn’t want to fall. It’s been a while,” she said.
The shoes, he noted, clattered together as they hung from the straps in her hand.
She breathed a nervous chuckle as scarlet warmed her cheeks. “And training boots wouldn’t flatter this ridiculous dress.”
Starsdamn. That color. He needed to focus but could not possibly bring himself to. “It would not matter what you wore.” His voice came out so breathy he hardly recognized it. “Anything, even nothing at all, would look beautiful on you. I am certainly jealous.”
That scarlet brightened more when she looked at Thalon, close enough to hear Garrik. “Why?” she asked.
“Because.” Garrik stepped closer. Close enough to feel her incredible warmth through his jacket. “It has the pleasure of touching you all night.” The back of his palm lifted, and a finger brushed down her neck. He watched her skin pebble as his icy touch drifted lower, lower, lower until it found smooth silk.
Alora’s breath hitched.
“Speaking of.” Garrik curled his fingers around the hem of her scarf and eased it from her shoulders, but she snatched his wrist so fast, he did not anticipate it.
“ What are you doing ?” she snapped, her sapphires so wide the whites glowed. Then she lowered her voice to whisper, “My death mark.”
Garrik smirked and carefully removed her hand from his scarred wrist. “Yes, Thalon mentioned that little detail.” His eyes narrowed, feeling the shift in his powers as he pictured blaring-white flames in her mind. Alora was protected from all else, including him, and he patiently waited at the walls of starfire while his shadows begged for permission. “Take a look, darling.”
Those flames sputtered, knowing she felt his shadowy caress inside her mind. And when a door opened, his darkness took form in the likeness of his hand and guided her to his mind.
Into his vision, seeing herself as he saw her now. Vibrant when all else lacked luster. The dress, her hair, her eyes … her upper arm. Where her curse of Mystics once inked on her arm, now porcelain, unmarked skin laid.
Alora’s eyes widened as he released her into her mind, watching her blink and scan her skin, mystified.
His thumb brushed the empty spot. “You are safe, clever girl. No one can see.”
“I tried to tell her,” a gravelly female voice called from above.
A shadow moved to Garrik’s right as Jade found the bottom step. The high slit at her thigh revealed a dagger sheath as she leaned her elbow and an emerald-silken hip against the railing. Folding her long-sleeved arms across her chest, fidgeting with her coin and spine necklace as she warned, “If any of you idiots say a word about this”—she gestured to her gown with a nod—“I will cut your tongues out.”
That figure stepped forward. Aiden’s eyes marveled, much like Garrik’s own, and his mouth gaped. “You look like … a female !” His eyes darkened as his gaze swept to the daggers on her thigh. “It’s a bloody wonder there’s any room in that for a knife.”
Before anyone could say a word, a dagger unsheathed and the cold kiss of iron found the skin of Aiden’s neck. Jade’s reptilian grin shot fire in her green eyes when she pressed the metal tighter, pulling a grunt from his lips. “Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to practice drawing one before dinner.”
“Parley … parley ,” Aiden growled between his teeth. In the dim faelight, those shale-colored eyes darkened as if he took pleasure in it.
Twirling the knife between her fingers, Jade sheathed the dagger at her thigh before sarcastically smiling at Aiden. She lightly tapped his cheek twice and grinned before adjusting the fabric over her leg.
It was silent for mere breaths. Everyone glanced at each other.
Then roars of laughter exploded and echoed across the grand hall. Even Garrik’s smile twitched at the corners of his mouth as Thalon roared, and Alora covered her mouth, giggling until her shoulders bounced.
Aiden’s glare was as fiery as Jade’s hair, as scorching as Alora’s starfire. Rubbing his neck, he complained, “Damned to the depths with the lot of you.”
“She did warn you.”Garrik’s smirk met his eye, and he patted Aiden’s shoulder.
Alora shuffled to a nearby chaise tucked away in the corner of the room, leaving the Shadow Order to taunt and tease each other. She twirled around, sat on the ruby-colored cushion, and propped her leg over a knee.
Garrik slipped in front of her. “Allow me, Your Majesty.” Before she could protest, he dropped to a knee and took the crystal-embellished heel beside her.
Slowly, Garrik’s hand cradled her calf muscle. Tracing his fingertips over her flesh while the others made conversation behind them. He scanned up from the floor, noticing her pulse quickening … how she bit her lip.
“I cannot seem to stop falling on my knees before you.” Garrik slipped the heel on, lacing the straps in a crisscross pattern as Alora’s cheeks scarleted and sent a wave of ice singing through his veins.
She said nothing. Nothing but bit her starsdamned lip again .
The decision was made. He would remind her how that affected him.
Garrik finished and gestured for her other foot, repeating the same steps until his palm lowered her heel to the ground and gripped her ankles.
“That flush.” He paused, tightening his abdomen. “Imagining my death, clever girl?” Garrik rose and trailed his palms up the smooth skin of her legs, wrinkling the fabric at her knees before ushering her to her feet—so close their bodies touched. “Or … perhaps.” Silver glanced at the others over his shoulder. “My tongue.”
That pleasing shade of scarlet flushed brighter. “You shouldn’t do that,” Alora breathed, her gaze flickering around the room, uncertain.
A grin twisted on his face before he brushed a strand of white hair over her shoulder and squeezed her waist. “Do what?” he taunted.
“Kneel to me. Especially here.” As if the stars were scheming, a servant rushed by, carrying a vase of white flowers, and disappeared up the staircase and to the hallways beyond. “What if someone sees?”
“What if they do?”
She raised her brow with a pointed glare.
Garrik sighed. “The moment anyone leaves this room, the memory will be forfeit.”
Realization crossed her face, Alora thought, The Lord of Minds. He must have secured a shield or something ? —
Something, he agreed, and she frowned.
“Even so. The High Prince of Elysian doesn’t kneel to anyone.”
Garrik raked his eyes over her, circling his thumb on her hipbone. “The act of kneeling has never been more appealing than that of recently.” Ravenous eyes assessed the onyx fabric across her breasts again—and how it caressed her skin like dancing flames up the swells.
Alora shifted her weight, rubbing her thighs together before meeting his dark focus.
For a moment, they only stared.
The flecks of embers in her eyes resembled the stars her magic was born from. And when her smooth hands lifted, he did not stiffen. Did not flinch but found himself desiring to be touched. To feel only Alora’s touch.
Those hands sensuously curled around his lapels, straightening and smoothing them along his racing chest. “A High Prince needs to look fully presentable.”
He scoffed. “Quite so.” The words were laced with sarcasm. “Would not want the court gossiping about my disarrayed collar instead of this.” A flash of the beast inside him rippled across his face like rain on a lake, reminding all who could see of the sharpened cheekbones and razor-tipped teeth lurking beneath the surface.
She did not pull away.Her grip only tightened as a gleam settled in her eyes.
“First you kneel to me and now show me your pretty face?” She smirked, folded her arms across her chest, and cocked her hip slightly. “ Mighty prince , if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to impress me.”
A rapacious grin twisted up his face. “Is it working?”
Alora simply hummed and strode around him, brushing her hip along his leg and tracing her finger across his chest in the effort.
Garrik watched her every step. Body aching at each inch that stretched between them. Smokeshadows swirled around his hands, his shoulders, until he blinked, remembering where he was. With whom he was surrounded by—not only his Shadow Order but the entire treasonous court of Kadamar and Ladomyr’s out-of-kingdom guests.
He watched his Shadow Order’s faces beam. Listened to their laughs, their short, inviting embrace of Alora, safe to be themselves within his mind-bending shield.
Garrik pushed away the thought of rubbing his hand over the ache in his chest at the pure joy of it. At the magnificent thundering of Thalon’s deep laugh as he fastened his golden sword to his side. The wrinkles beside Aiden’s eyes in the midst of Jade’s enjoyment veiled by false irritation. Alora’s warm smile … the one she displayed when she felt purely elated and content—true happiness.
His palm flinched, begging him to brush across his chest and soothe the uncomfortable ache.
Then again, what would be so terrible for such a display? Allowing himself to truly feel it, all of it, the same delight and happiness they felt gathered together.
You do not deserve this happiness. The scars on his abdomen burned.
Thalon threw him a grin, unknowing of the voice in Garrik’s head, and subtly gestured, disturbing his Earned, with a quick flick of his head.
But Garrik stood there, observing. Ignoring that voice, ignoring the pain of his scars. Both of his brutalization and of his brutality to Elysian souls. Ignored the pain in his heart, that longing for?—
It did not matter.
That was not what he was here for. This joy. This happiness they felt.
Savage beasts do not deserve luxuries such as this contentment. This hope for a future when he held a duty to the realm.
‘ And at the end of it all, a shallow grave.’ His back stiffened to the point he could not possibly bring himself to smile as they did.
A tightness settled in Garrik’s throat.
After the war with Magnelis was over, after Elysian was restored, the beast could be slain. He could be slain. They could be free?—
Free of him.
Something like glimmering shards of sunlight tore through his magic. No—it did not tear. It shot through the opening he allowed only for them, his family.
Come join us, brother. Thalon’s voice echoed so clearly as if it could guide the voices—the screams—away.
Very well. He had left Ladomyr’s court to cower in unease long enough.
Garrik stepped forward until his boots stopped inches from his Shadow Order. They turned, and each one seemed to know what he would say before he did so.
Aiden offered his arm to Alora. A small hint of disappointment but understanding stirred across her features as she found Garrik, and he nodded.
He would not be escorting her, not anyone.
Alora looped her arm around Aiden’s as Thalon flattened his palm over the neck-high back of Jade’s dress and escorted her forward.
“Shall we, lady Alora?” Aiden beamed and puffed his chest, wiggling his shoulders as if he could not possibly stand still in his excitement.
Alora rolled her eyes. “ Not lady,” she corrected.
“Right, then. Shall we, not-lady Alora?” Aiden winked.
Garrik suppressed the urge to smile.
Then his skin rippled as every vein from his fingertips to his chest and neck formed like lighting branches, including those around his eyes. His vision swirled into shades of a grayscale as oblivion took hold. The dagger-like points of his teeth slicked across his tongue as his facial bones melded to sharpened points.
Garrik’s voice, like the terrible monster he was Made to be, ripped along the grandeur and flecked into every polished surface as each one of his Shadow Order’s eyes went as ravenous as his.
He turned to the hallway. The pitiful ilk deep inside laughing, raising glasses, unaware that ruthless fury and a starving hunger of bloodlust prowled their halls.
The Savage Prince stalked to the edge of the hallway. Smokeshadows crawled across the floor in front of him like an ominous fog as, one by one, the gleaming faelights along the walls snuffed out with darkness.
Ladomyr’s court was about to play his game, whether they wanted to or not.