Page 59 of What Whispers in the Dark
How many times had he fully succumbed to serpent magic against his will? How many times did he wake alone? Dazed and confused and sustaining injuries he could not recall. Blood on his hands that was not his own.Terrifiedof himself. Adorning a mask of perfection and strength when he was forced to walk in the silence of his screams.Damninghimself for what he could not control. For what they had left him with.
Ruined, he’d said—ruined.
And she couldn’t help but think… Where all he could see was ruin, she saw beauty.
Alora sank into the cushions, not stopping her fingers from pulsing warmth into his body as she surveyed the mostbreathtaking male she had ever seen—inside and out. Engraving every fine detail about him to memory, knowing that one day …one dayhe would be free.
Even if she had to become indebted to Darkness himself.
For Garrik, she would make certain of it.
Alora didn’t know quite what to expect. She had only been in front of Kadamar’s court twice now. Once, as invaders bursting through their perfectly polished and glamoured doors, and the second, under the frigid violence of her High Prince claiming Ladomyr’s throne before dinner.
And now … now they waited for yet another stormy arrival. Where at any moment those doors would burst open, and under a veil of whispering night and clouds of shadow, Garrik would preside over whatever sleazy and sordid dealings the king of Kadamar had conjured for them.
In this extensionof Chapter Thirty-nine, we see a glimpse into what Alora, the Shadow Order, and Kadamar’s court did while awaiting the arrival of the Savage Prince after he met with his spymaster, and then presided over the fate of a fake Marked One.
Alora thought the last time she would see Ezander was on the cliffside. He surely wasn’t foolish enough to show his face in front of her High Prince again. She was wrong.
Judging by the expressions worn by each member of the court, crowded in the confines of the throne room, this gathering was far from routine. Rather a midday interruption to whatever pleasantries the privileged were enjoying. And if she hadn’t scanned the grandeur the eve before at dinner, perhaps Alora would have marveled at the architecture. But like any courtier or noble, she schooled her face into a look of boredomamongst the towering pillars and ceilings made of whitewashed wood and gold. Didn’t so much as flicker her eyes to the chandeliers dripping with diamonds and twinkling under the faelights.
But that didn’t stop her from trailing her gaze along the crimson rugs, up the endless expanse of stairs, to the tribute waiting for her High Prince.
A black onyx dragon throne. Awaiting its master. One even more deadly than the sharpened teeth of its muzzle, open to spit out its flames on anyone who so much as looked at it wrong.
She almost wished it did. Almost wished Garrik was there at that moment to command it to do so as if the thing could come to life at his simple whim. After all, this kingdom—no.Thiscastleand all the nobles within it deserved it after what she’d learned in the library. After knowing of the king’s vile Hunt … and what he did to faeries for the sake of depraved entertainment.
From below that perch, a wicked frown etched lines into the weathered face of Kadamar’s king. Atop that bald head, a golden circlet draped in rubies looked as if it would fall over his face and collar his neck at any moment. If only that gold would melt and burn into his skin, collaring him like the very souls he had caged behind his mountain.
But for now, Garrik’s throne would do. A leash of sorts. One Ladomyr couldn’t break so long as Garrik was his master.
Alora was tempted to sneer at the king as those damning thoughts for bloodshed made her skin burn hotter. The only thing that contained her hatred lay within that look of pure disgust and disdain athisthrone, reformed for another to reign over his own kingdom before he exited the room.
Like they were threatened under life and limb, servants scurried amongst the crowd. Their eyes downcast, the circles under them as dark and bruising as Ladomyr’s shackle wounds on their wrists. Glasses of amber, and scarlet, and buttery liquidfilled the palms of females whilst their males’ possessive arms pulled them close. And as if the display of finery wasn’t enough to cause nausea to burn her throat, their boasted words of their riches were. Not only coin … but … but those were boasts of owning lives too.
The Lord’s Markets.
She’d heard of them last night—and in the forest with Rune and his scoundrels not but a few weeks ago.
A phantom ache pulsed through her shoulder. Long since healed after Arzen had stabbed her with his blade. After they had planned to sell her to Silas. After Arzen vowed to hand her over to Magnelis. Instead, Alora had offered him to thegentlehand of her Savage Prince.
Along the wall of untouched banquet tables littered with silver platters full of warm, crusty bread, roasted foul drizzling with honey glaze, and layers upon layers of berried pastries, a crimson-haired High Fae male struck conversation with four others. All dressed in garb fine enough to enter the Stars Eternal. One waft of the male’s pompous voice and Alora had stopped listening. From Jade’s expression near the dais, she had, too.
Tempted to ask herwhyexactly court had been called, Alora thought better of it. Jade appeared as if the next flash of teeth from between a male’s lips would have the entire room covered in a tribute to her dagger skills and smelling of liquid iron for centuries to come.
And without Garrik here to stop it …
I was pulled out of training … forthis?
Alora blinked and furrowed her brows. Her eyes shifted, recognizing that gravelly female voiceinsideher mind.
Garrik must have linked them again. Hearing each other’s thoughts as if they were directly beside one another.
Jade suffered a long sigh and crossed her arms, somehow making her seemmoreunapproachable as if the line of daggersdraped along her thigh, peeking through her long-sleeved black gown slit, had been no more of a threat than a parchment cut on the finger.
Your facial expressions need to use their inside voice.Aiden now, draped on six steps of the dais, and cleaning his nail with a small blade. Jade made a sound equal to a damning threat, but Aiden continued,I had much better things todothan this.She didn’t miss as his smile widened toward a group of olive-skinned females raising their brows and giggling in his direction.
Alora cut in,Does anyone know what’s going on?And then, to herself,Where’s Garrik?—
