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“You almost ripped them to shreds just to protect me?” Alora’s arms loosened around herself.

He was silent before plucking a small white flower growing through the bark. “For that reason, I have never joined the games.” With his thumb, he popped the head from its stem. “So I do not rip anyone’s head off. Training at night is safe. No one to try and invite themselves to cross my blade.” Garrik’s voice dropped to something like a whisper as if he never intended to say it out loud. “Plus, it passes the time when nightmares threaten my sleep.”

“How often do you have nightmares?”

Silver found the stars again, and she was unsure if he would even answer, but, instead, Garrik’s cautioned voice painfully admitted, “Every time I close my eyes.” Then silence, all but the night-bugs sang through the forest. “Any more burning questions? Seems I am an open book tonight.” He relaxed against the tree behind him and interlaced his fingers behind his head, closing his eyes again.

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Perhaps I enjoy the company, for once. No one watching my every move or waiting for an order. No one calling me ‘Your Highness’ or ‘sire.’ Even if I do get called abastardorprick.” His eyes shifted to her, smirking before they closed once more.

Alora grinned slightly. She really did enjoy calling him those names. But a question lingered like an unquenchable thirst. She’d been wanting to ask him for days. “What are they? Your … Smokeshadows?”

A chuckle released from his lips as he opened his palm and shadows whirled inside. They blew away, leaving the same white flower, now fully restored, lying inside. He tenderly dawned it onto her lap, Smokeshadows fading on a phantom breeze once it’d settled.

“Darkness and shadows are guardians.” Tendrils danced around his fingers. “You should not be afraid of the shadows, buthear me when I say, be mindful of the light.Thatis where real monsters hide.”

The flower was in her hand, twirling between her fingers while examining the stem. “And you command them?All of them?”

Garrik closed his palm as Smokeshadows diminished inside his fist. “The darkness lives inside me. Makes me cold to the touch—among other things.” He leaned back against the tree and rested a hand on his chest. “One day, maybe I will be able to explain it to even myself.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the creatures of the night, the soft chilling breeze rustling the leaves in the canopy above.

“I am glad you decided to stay, for now. Even if you still do not trust me completely, I hope you do soon.” He stood and extended his hand.

Alora observed it, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth but didn’t take it.

Garrik’s eyes darkened and flickered to the flower still dangling in her hand. He said, “Let’s head back to camp. You need sleep,” and paused as a baiting smile crossed his face. Alora grabbed his outstretched hand before he countered, “Unless you want to stay and kiss me again?”

She would have scoffed if not for the minor tug from his powerful arms to pull her to her feet. She went tumbling close to his chest, steadying herself against the hardened muscles there.

With cool breath fanning against her cheek so impossibly close, he added, “I take that as a yes.”

Alora scowled, slipped from his lax hands, shoved his shoulder to step behind him, and sent a withering glare over her retreating shoulder. “You’reastoundinglyimpossible.”

Garrik’s elated expression lit up the dark forest. His head tilted to the opposite of her path. “Camp isthatway.”

Golden shards of sunlight basked the valley in warm light. Camp teemed with the stirring of wooden carts moving through firesites, horses stomping in the cold dirt, and soldiers’ feet prowling the grounds, preparing to move out. Their shouts of orders filled the valley, echoing across the lake. The symphony of sounds indicated the deconstruction of camp, which, luckily enough for her, the Shadow Order was the last tobe torn down and the first to be constructed when settled at a new location. And thanks to Jade’s loose position, Alora was able to enjoy such luxuries.

She awoke to the luscious smell of pork fat and eggs sieging the canvas. Jade was gone that morning. Either she hadn’t attempted to wake Alora, or by some unlikely miracle, allowed her to sleep longer.

But after the events of the night before, Alora happily rested in elated gratitude at the small mercy.

The phantom touch of Garrik’s icy kiss against her lips still remained as she brushed her warm finger across, shuddering—smiling—at the memory as morning light washed away the cool darkness of the night before. To Alora’s shock, Garrik hadn’t chastised her. There were no words of punishment, no scolding, or the swift slap of a hand. Only a delicate, short goodnight as she’d entered and crawled into a mound of woolen blankets and lush pillows.

It felt like breaking through a water’s surface. Coming up for fresh air.

Easing from underneath the blankets and brushing her feet across the soft furs on the floor, Alora noticed something new sat folded on her bedside table, beside her Blazebloom, and illuminated in its dancing starlight glow.

Scaled, perfectly flawless, Dragon armor and a white flower rested on top.

Unlike her training leathers, the thick, night-dark battle leathers were adorned with silver flourishes, metal clasps, and buckles. Black pants sat folded beside it, with leather leg guards and thigh straps for daggers.

She would appear as one of them by midday.

The thought stirred her heart into a jolting panic.

One of them.