Page 14 of What Whispers in the Dark
Garrik cupped Aiden’s sweat-slicked forehead, brushing his thumb over the blazing-hot skin before reclining in his chair. His eyes burned, bobbing as he held Aiden’s hand like an anchor in the silence.
But his mind was barely in that bedchamber.
Across the city, across the fields and rivers and meadows, over purple tents spread like parasites on the land and into a forest where the shards of crystal and bones of a downed beast lay, Garrik thought of Aiden. How he felt the moment his brother stopped breathing. The way his eyes rolled back. Jade’s panic. The blood. The pain on Aiden’s face. Thalon’s horror.
And Alora…
All because of him.
If he had not left. If he had not failed so astoundingly at schooling Alora as to why she needed to remain in camp. If onlyhe had a moment to truly speak to her in Telldaira instead of stealing her in the night.
This. This washisdoing.
Aiden should not be the one lying there. It should be him.Him?—
Warmth cupped his shoulder.
Garrik jolted, sitting upright as he whipped his head around the room to find the elder male’s eyes on him, on the sweat dripping from his hairline. The way his chest heaved, panting before he swallowed hard to calm himself.
“Apologies, Your Highness,” came that soothing voice as Ozrin whispered with a sad smile, outstretching a glass of clear liquid that Garrik respectfully declined. “Whatever you’re thinking…” He offered a knowing expression.
Of course, Ozrin knew Garrik’s mental tendencies. He was the male who had kept him tethered to life for so long when all Garrik could do was lie on cold, bloody stones beneath the castle, begging for the stars to end his pathetic existence. Ozrin had often heard his cries while he tended to him, his confessions, and knew Garrik like the son he never had.
Swiping a glance at Aiden, Garrik ran a hand down his face and deepened his breath. “I must go,” he said, leaned forward, and brushed ebony hair from Aiden’s forehead while squeezing his seemingly lifeless hand one more time.
Ozrin was a male of few words, but Garrik could feel them filling the quiet between them as he stood. Requiring nothing more than a simple thought, Smokeshadows braided around his battle leather-clad body, transforming him into mist and darkness, entirely weightless as he nodded at Ozrin, catching the healer’s soft smile, before endless oblivion dawned him across the city.
Not seconds later, Garrik parted the whorls of his powers and stepped into a royal garden that seemed more of a graveyardthan the place of affection and solace he once knew. Dried and decayed in endless rows of raised beds, six decades of dead pearlseas rested.
Like memories frozen in time, Garrik ran his finger along a dried stem, snapping it to dust the moment his finger moved away.
“She truly had the most beautiful gardens in all of Elysian.”
Garrik did not flinch at the fading voice in his mother’s gardens.
Turning, silver eyes pierced crimson ones as a cloaked male drifted from the castle wall into the moonlight. “The healer?” Garrik asked in way of greeting.
His spymaster adjusted his cloak hood over his pin-straight black hair with inked hands and pooled it on his shoulders.
Garrik continued, “He is safe?”
Those blood-colored eyes met his stare, and he inhaled the night’s decayed breeze as if he were smoking a mellowherb roll. “Safe,” he answered. Then added with a tilt of his head, “But as for the other matter, there are … complications.”
“Complications,” Garrik repeated. He had enough complications for one day; his mind reeled with them. Starting with Jade’s temper inside the arena leading to Alora’s panic and injury, then that infuriating female jumping into the starsdamned competition where he almost ripped his own soldiers’ heads off. But Garrik allowed nothing but calm, calculated grace to show on his face.
The spymaster merely studied the castle walls and up to a balcony with candlelight flickering in the text-keeper’s wing, and explained, “The swamplands. I should have answers soon.”
Garrik did not doubt that, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement drew the male’s attention in time to see his sharp nod. “I require further assistance.”
Smokeshadows whorled in his palm. They misted away just as fast, revealing rolled parchment, which was sealed with his Dragon insignia. “There is no evidence she still exists, but Zayn is certain his shifter’s heart still beats.” He swallowed, warring off a memory of a floating city … and a bloody throne room as he handed the missive over. “I am not so sure what he believes is truth.”
Unrolling the parchment, crimson scanned the ink. Those eyes widened and snapped to his High Prince.
Another nod was Garrik’s response.
“You think Magnelis fooled?—”
“I am not certain. When I was done with her … her head … I only remember my blade falling. The drugs coursing through my veins at the time … the magic-washing … I—” Garrik shook his head, gritting his teeth to the point of pain. “Find the truth, spymaster. Zayn’s next decision lies within it.”
