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A double-sworded swing cleaved through the air.

Garrik cried out—a sound so excruciating that her own body rippled in phantom pain. Grabbing his right side covered by a dark tunic, his swords clanged to the dirt.

Wisps of breath panted from Alora’s lips in the cool air. Garrik panted alongside her, wedging his right knee mercilessly into the dirt, but his breath matched the air’s temperature, and nothing but wind left him.

“You should know by now that I am aware of when you follow me.” Garrik lifted one of the swords, face deathly, and thrust it into the ground. He held onto the hilt, still clutching his ribs with the other hand. “Show yourself!” he demanded.

Alora slowly walked into the annulus, palms raised in peaceful surrender. “I know. I wasn’t sure if you wanted the company,” she admitted and rubbed the back of her neck. “You’re wounded. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Garrik’s eyes shifted to hers, agitation burned in his cold voice, “I am fine.”

“Yeah, you lookfine,” she stabbed, matching his agitation as she stepped forward, reaching to his side. “Let me look.”

“Do not touch me.” Grimacing, he pushed off his knee and stood. Swirling ink began to fill his eyes.

“What? Are you afraid I’ll see your rippling body and instantly climb on top of you?” The attempt to make him smile failed.

“I am not in the mood.” Garrik growled through uneven breaths, clutching his side as he walked away and leaned against a tree.

A bad night, she reminded herself. A very bad night.

“Fine. I thought I’d come out here to be a distraction, but I can see that my presence is unwanted.” Alora started walking to the edge of the annulus. “Goodnight…”Mighty bastard.

“Stop.”

The command sent a shiver deep into her core.

“You know, you really are a prick!” Alora whipped her head around to glower at him. “We spent four days out of our minds, pleading to Maker of the Skies for you to return alive, only for you to completely shut us out. Not offering any explanation as to why you were thrown from a portal unconscious, and nowthis.” Gesturing with a finger to his side, arms tense, she balled her hand into an embered fist and stomped toward him.

“Shake off the façade of ‘I can never show weakness.’ Show you give a damn that your friends care about you and love you so much, they’d die for you. Let them into your darkened world for just a moment.

“Everyone breaks, mighty prince. Including you! And if you weren’t so arrogant, you’d come to realize that those around you want nothing more than to help you through whatever horrors you face.” She was steaming mad as she marched inches from him, daring to shove him back into the oak.

Before her hands could, Garrik grabbed her forearms. His face turned pale as snow. “You want to know what happened?” Viciously growling, he pushed off the tree, releasing her before his voice rose in rage. Silver succumbed to the deep, darkened abyss as if she were attacking him with sharpened iron.

Garrik ripped open his shirt.

Horrendous hues of deep amethyst, dark emerald, and onyx-navy painted his scarred skin. Across the right side of his body, the artwork, a barbarous masterpiece of searing pain, extended around his ribs, down into his pants line.

“Go ahead,” he growled, wincing at the movement, “take along,starsdamned look.”

That was a crack in his voice.

Alora’s heart sank.

Words came out in choked breaths. “Magnelis forced me to slaughter in front of his entire court and throne. When it was not bloody enough, when I instead stole deep into the cores of their tortured minds and melted everything they once were”—nostrils flared, he became a hint of a sharp toothed beast—“Magnelis ordered his soldiers to drag me down to my dungeon and remind me what a merciful hand would result.”

Breathing unevenly, Garrik prowled to a tree and slammed his fist into it, cracking his knuckles.

“That was night one.”

Alora shook, tears burning her eyes.

“I allowed them to imprison me in my cell, knowing if I resisted, Magnelis would do much more. If I shielded against the punishment, he would inflict pain on my Dragons instead. Another one of his tactics, giving me a fucking choice. And if I choose wrong…” Garrik shook his head. “Their war hammers collided against my side until my ribs cracked, and even after, they continued. And she…” His hand glided over his bruises and clamped his eyes shut.

“Night three, I was forced amongst the snickering and pathetic ilk of Magnelis’s court. He waited on his golden throne, expecting my obedience when his worthless hand gripped my throat, demanding proof I understood my current position. Otherwise, Nevilier would be tasked with killing half myentirelegion… Yet my reverence was not enough for his satisfaction.” Tormented eyes glanced up at the stars.

“A young, wailing male convulsed at my boots. Barely clothed, his flesh had been … flayed from his bones. The death mark ripped from his arm.” His breath sharpened with a quickshake of his head. “Andshewas there, watching, after she … in my cell.” Garrik lost his breath as his body trembled, brushing a hand against the scars on his abdomen and balled a fist. “Fuck.”