Page 13 of What Whispers in the Dark
But Thalon tapped it right back.
“Must we do this rigmarole every time we meet?” Voice clipped, unamused.
“We are all loyal to the High King.” Jade knew the words felt like burning coals to Thalon’s lips, but their ruse must remain. “That doesn’t mean we have to get along.”
“Quite so. How dreadfully boring that would be.” His eyes flicked down to the tip resting on his chest, so close it could scrape his knuckles, keeping him from bleeding out. At the gleam of gold against the morning sunlight, as Thalon’s red cloak swayed in the smoky breeze. Scanning the intricate detailsof ancient runes, the words engraved of his house, to the unfurled wings on the pommel. “If you wish to harm me, find a real weapon. Perhaps your female can lend you one.”
An entirely different set of footsteps approached from the south end of Brennus’s firesite. Six Ravens with distinctive differences in their identical insignia parted the shadows between the purple tents, each with a black viper curled around the engraved raven’s neck on their armor. Even their purple cloaks had serpents slithering over their shoulders.
One advanced forward from the gathered.
Tension rippled in the air as the male broke the silence, “Sir, the mistress…” he spoke hervilename, “requires your attention.”
A low sound, harsh and rumbling, growled from Malik’s chest. He didn’t move. Only seared his attention into the Guardian in front of him, who brandished a smirk.
Movement, so subtle, had Jade looking downward.
Malik’s fist was shaking. He almost looked pained the longer he stood there.
The male Raven kept his stare pointed, almost as if he were the true authority among them, but still addressed Malik as, “Sir.” The remaining five Ravens shuffled uneasily like they would be subject to a lashing by the bitch as he insisted, “Telldairan prisoners… Marked Ones’ witnesses… Your mistress requires?—”
“As amusing as this has been…” Malik turned from Thalon’s blade without a care that it was now poised at his back.
“Run back to your master,” Thalon spat, and Malik paused. That hand began shaking once more.
With one last look at Jade, he rolled his shoulders back, stiffening them into a position of superiority, and led the soldiers away, disappearing between the tents.
He could never banish the image from his head; Aiden’s blood staining the ground. And for the first time in years, Garrik felt true terror. Panic. Dread… It coiled in his veins, deep into the marrow of his bones, watching Thalon portal him away.
A step inside a quiet home nestled inside the High City of Galdheir, Garrik faced the real possibility of losing one of the few people who had never looked at him with fear.
With one look at Aiden, he thought the worst had passed.
Only to find out after …
He was wrong.
This isa POV shift from Chapter Thirty when Garrik dawned to Galdheir after seeing Alora back to the Shadow Order’s firesite at the conclusion of the competition. What was he doing in Galdheir? Why did it take him an entire day to return, only for Alora to follow him into that first annulus?
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
This is a verytough chapter to read. Garrik’s POV was not shown much in Book One, so we did not truly know his unimaginable suffering until Book Two. With that being said, please be warned that this is a dark and trauma-filled chapter. We are seeing into his fractured and broken soul before light and life and warmth began cradling him in the form of a family who refused to give up on him and one head-strong female.
I hope you leave this chapter remembering his journey through to the end of Book Two and can see how his heart, soul, and mind were healing.
There aretrigger warnings for both parts of this chapter.
Aheavy stillness hung in the air as night broke over Galdheir’s streets; only the damp chill and the scent of woodsmoke lingered. Not many preferred to be out of the false security of their homes when dusk settled. Though unlikely, the High City lived under the impression that Magnelis’s greed and cruelty worsened when the sun fell. Where one step onto the pristine streets could draw the High King’sattention and condemn an unlucky bastard to the castle for his barbarous entertainment—and only because the moon was out…
Little did they know he was just as sadistic when the sun warmed the skies.
Perhaps worse.
Admittedly, Garrik appreciated the quiet at this moment. There he sat at Aiden’s bedside in the home he had gifted Ozrin—his healer—decades past. Perhaps one of the few safe places in the High City, with one of Garrik’s shields permanently in place to keep the treasonous eyes of Ravens or their loose mouths to themselves.
Light pools of sky-blue hid beneath Aiden’s eyelids, though Garrik imagined they would be muddy and dull now.
Each time Ozrin lifted a lid to examine his half-human brother, Garrik could barely slice his attention away from Aiden’s hardly moving chest. Only during those moments of examination had his eyes opened since the gamroara attack.
