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But Alora didn’t move. Her gaze fell on a darkened ring under the fading sunlight instead. Tracing from that ring acrosshis broad hand that simply hovered there, waiting for her to take it.

Still, she didn’t move.

If the High Prince was impatient, he didn’t show it. Garrik’s face softened as he watched her exploration and urged with a reassuring grin, “Trust me.”

That hesitation fed into her hammering heartbeat.

Alora scoffed quietly and pushed herself up, refusing his hand, earning her another amused chuckle.

Then, in an explosion of Smokeshadows, unfurling from Garrik’s back in whorls, the night itself transcended. Incredible, daunting wings of darkness extended wide across the dock.

The shadows reflected off the water, snuffing out the sunlight that was soon to be engulfed by the darkened night. And as much as she wanted to admit it, there was something enchanting about seeing Garrik adorned in a mighty manifestation of his magic. An extension of his unearthly power, rippling in tendrils and whorls, submitting to his every command—every whim.

The true Lord of Darkness. Wielding the shadows at his simple breath. Using them for everything from the creation of a smooth, perfect petal to the destruction and leveling of an entire village.

An unnatural shudder shot lightning down Alora’s spine as she stumbled backward a step, her heel pressing the edge of the dock.

Off balanced, she slipped enough that she began to fall toward the water when Garrik’s palm gripped her wrist and the other flattened against the small of her back. Pulling her close to him, close enough that she flattened her palm to the dip of his solid chest.

Garrik’s wings tucked in tight behind him and the silver of his eyes glistened, reflecting the lake like flawless crystal.

“Easy,” he breathed, and she felt it like a feather across her cheek. Cold and … far too dangerous to be this close to him. “Am I truly that terrifying that you would fall into the lake just to be away from me?”

She blinked, feeling the absence of his hand. An icy chill resonated in its place. Unable to feel her heartbeat as he steadied her on the dock and stepped away.

Garrik stretched his wings wide. Rolling the tension from his neck and shoulders before he again stretched out his hand and peered at the sky.

Her eyes widened until the whites glowed, and she was certain her face had blanched just as white. “You’re joking.”

Darkness whorled around his hand and danced toward her. Garrik side-eyed it, smirking when it escaped his hand completely and swirled around hers before it misted away. “Is there anything about me that ever suggests that I am joking?”

Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, noting Garrik’s critical stare, Alora’s eyes flashed to the sky, then back to his hand. Sapphires bright as they took in his wings of darkness, then the glowing, beaming silver of his.

This is stupid. Irrevocably foolish and dumb and?—

—exhilarating.

Heart in her throat, Alora blurted, “Don’t you dare drop me.” Rolling her eyes at her own loss of sanity and the death wish beyond the one marked on her arm.

Again, silver beamed impossibly bright. “I would not dream of it.”

And before she could react, Garrik effortlessly scooped her into his arms, lifting around her shoulders and under her knees.

Instinctively, she buried her face in his chest, feeling the unusual rhythm of his heart before the ground dropped from beneath them. One magnificent beat of his wings was all it tookbefore he lifted her as though she were nothing more than air and soared into the sky like a strike of lightning.

She had no time to feel the bite of the cold wind. No time to watch as they joined the sky. Alora cried out, tightening her arms around his frigid neck. And then it was his voice, not the wind that had her hair whirling around, that danced across her ears.

Garrik’s voice reverberated from his chest to her cheek as he whispered, “Apologies.” There was something sincere there, but she was too busy worrying about falling to focus.

Cold hands gripped her a little tighter, thumb lazily brushing a reassuring circle over her shoulder. He truly sounded as if he meant it. Like their ascent had even surprised him.

“You did that on purpose,” Alora whimpered, sinking her fingers into the muscles of his shoulders enough that she hoped it hurt.

“Not entirely,” he retorted with an uncomfortable grunt, and his smile could be heard lifting in the words, “but I will say, the results are quite enjoyable.” Corded arms emphasized hispleasurewith a tight squeeze, pulling her even closer.

Please—please don’t drop me.Something warm dripped down her cheek, soaking into his tunic.

How could she have thought she could do this? Flying was this unobtainable—unimaginable—thing, only available to those with wings. To those who were born with the desire to hurl themselves thousands of feet into the sky and not give plummeting to death a second thought.