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Rolling her eyes and scoffing, she took a measured step forward, forcing their Captain back a step. With a stiff finger, she pressed it to Aiden’s chest. An enticing grin dominated her features. “I thinkI’d much rathercomein our High Prince’s. His is much bigger.” She winked. “Much more to enjoy.” And she slapped his chest.

“Is that so?”

That enticing grin misted away.

She turned—slowly.

Garrik leaned on the tent post, arms folded and an ankle crossed over the other, towering over her with pure, primal male eyes.

And suddenly, Alora could only think about the scorching heat in her cheeks … a different heat than that in his eyes. “How long have you been standing there?”

Garrik’s answering smirk was brighter than her white flames. “Longer than you would like.” Then he gestured with his head, summoning the remainder of his Shadow Order inside.

The war tentwas filled more often than the arena that day, as it always was the day before the army would move. The generals were quick to argue, and Garrik usually allowed them to discuss. But today, an urgency settled in her High Prince’s eyes.

Once he spoke, his word was final.

She sat across from Garrik at the table, not against the canvas wall. Each time she entered, the seat had been empty, waiting for her.

His silver caught her sapphires more times than she could count. Each time, reminding her of the heaviness she’d seen the night before.

He looked tremendously exhausted.

Yet no one noticed. Or no one dared to say anything.

You should go rest. Surely these meetings can wait until tomorrow?

Garrik’s eyes flickered to hers, but his voice didn’t enter her mind.

Alora quickly closed her eyes and checked if her wall of flames was too high. It wasn’t.

Should I start feeling myself to get your attention?she toyed, eyes narrowing on him.

Not even a twitch, accompanied by perfect silence.

Come on, play with me, say something, she thought to herself.

But he still remained silent.

Every meeting that followed, he remained the same, if not worse. And as the evening progressed, his eyes found hers fewer times. When she had the audacity, according to a thick blond bearded male six seats down, to speak out, Garrik’s hand only rested on the map and tapped almost unnoticeably, as if in a daze which probably saved the generals life. His eyes burned into the table, concentrating on something until her bootaccidentallyknocked into his.

Brows pinched and lips pressed in a thin line, Alora shrugged and shook her head in silent question. Something was eating at him. Vexing him into an evasive state.

Her boot stirred him enough that he shifted his posture from lounging back in his chair to standing, towering over the room. “That is enough for today. General Realmpiercer expects you at first light,” he ordered, nodding at Thalon to his direct right. “I require your full compliance to his orders in any absence of my own. Is that understood?”

The room erupted in nods and words of their fealty before Garrik dismissed them.

Alora hesitated and sat waiting for the room to clear. When the last disappeared through the canvas doors, Garrik reclined back in his chair, kingdoms away.

“Go to dinner. Rest early tonight, tomorrow will be a … tiring day.”

Tomorrow.The memory made her body viciously shudder.

“Is Nevilier?—”

“No.” There was a bite to the word. “Please, Alora. Go.” Smokeshadows whirled in front of him and misted away atop asmall pile of blank parchments. A quill and ink jar rested beside them.

Garrik didn’t look up at her. He only danced the fingers of his right hand over the armrest as the quill lifted and began scratching dark lines into the first sheet with a tendril of shadows.