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He stopped, nearly crouching fully to the ground feet later. Observing a pearl petaled flower much like the one he’d been twirling. Grasping its stem, Garrik plucked it from the tuft of greenery it grew in and turned to her, outstretching his hand, beckoning her to take it.

She accepted it with a faint smile.

“I miss walks with her. From a faeling until the morning she died, I never tired of them. My mother was at such peace when her fingers brushed the petals and,stars, how her eyes ignited when I would pick one and offer it to her. Swirling teal and turquoise so bright in her eyes that outshined a glistening sea. My flowers, she said, were her truest treasures. Though her hands tended them, it was mine that considered which would be the honored chosen one. I would find perfection in the petals, one that reminded me of her vibrant and loving and kind spirit.

“What she did not know was that the flowers were where I felt at peace, too. Where I only found peace—with her. With something as simple as a flower. And she kept every one of them. Her rooms are overflowing. Each preserved like the day they were plucked. Vases overwhelm any surface they can rest on. When I am summoned to Galdheir, it is her wing where I find rest because mine holds too many painful memories. I feel her presence like she never was stolen from me. There, she still lives.”

Alora deepened a breath. The sweet and tranquil aroma of the meadow pleasing to her senses. They walked, stopping a few times when her High Prince would survey a flower and leave it attached to its stem. She followed him in silence, surely teeming with the memories of his mother as he strolled.

But when the edge of the meadow released its last glistening rows, he leaned against a darkened tree, arms crossed and face taut once more.

“I need you to stay here.”

“That’s funny. I thought I heard you say that I need to stay here.” Alora smirked and moved toward a clearing in the trees, ignoring him. Before she could pass through, Garrik’s arm stretched across, gripping his broad hand into the bark, stopping her path.

From his stern expression, she stepped back.

“Not this time, Alora. The thing in these woods … I cannot risk you falling to its schemes.”

“And you can?”

A smile twisted across his face. “Are you worried about me, clever girl?”

“In your dreams.”

Garrik breathed a laugh, crossing his arms before his head dropped low. “How could I expect anything else?” His smile pleasingly grew.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe from all that blood loss. You’re going mad. I can’t trust any of your decisions. Delirium and all.” She smiled and fell back against the tree, facing him.

But Garrik’s smile faded. That same muddy, dull look surfaced when his eyes roamed into the darkness beside them. Few heartbeats later, he stiffened, and his face transformed into one she’d seen many times. His High Prince face. The one that commanded armies. The one that gave orders and sat across a table from her making battle plans.

His voice was low. Severe. It carried authority and warning all the same. “There is one more story I must tell you,” he cautioned and shifted against the tree.

“Kerimkhar once lived as a being who offered great gifts of mercy to the weak and powerless. Alongside his twin brother, suffering Elysian souls were presented a new life with little price simply because he thought they were deserving. His gift came with a knowledge of the past. While his brother, Allseeah, possessed a knowledge of the future.

“Those who long-suffered illnesses but still exuded kindness would die with grace. Others wronged and maliciously left for dead, clinging to the hope that they would be spared. And they might have been, too. It was Kerimkhar’s greatest joy, his acts of mercy, his treasured gift for as long as Elysian has lived.” Garrik’s eyes drifted to the sky, the silver glistening in a far-off world.

“Allseeah dealt in destinies because heisDestiny. But he was far more knowing than Kerimkhar. His gift protected the balance of the future. Kerimkhar’s mercies altered that.

“Five hundred years ago, Allseeah was approached by a young king by marriage alone. Not by noble blood. And he deemed the king’s request unworthy.

“Kings hundreds of years prior were merely seen as someone who could seed a bloodline for a beloved princess. To offer anheir to her father’s throne. This young guardsman was groomed his entire life for a duty such as this. Only a pawn in a game. The young princess fell in love with the male, convinced her father that royalty is not by blood alone but by heart.

“They married, and not long after, the king died, and the princess ascended her throne. But the young king felt weak, powerless. No one would bow to his empty blood—not a drop of true royalty within him. So the young king sought out Kerimkhar.

“Kerimkhar saw his past, saw the cruelty, and extended a generous gift of mercy. A wish he would regret. One wish that left him turned into a creature against his kind nature, imprisoned to this mountain for eternity by his brother for upsetting the balance.”

Garrik speared her with a critical gaze.

“I do not want you following me, Alora. Kerimkhar demands cruelty as payment for his deals. Where once he flattered painless death, now he holds your soul for eternity. Your past will haunt you until he deems enough suffering as payment. Forever alone and locked inside this mountain. Faces are stolen and eyes are controlled to see what he cannot see. His trickery will find you wanting, digging his claws deep into your desires until you have offered him everything, even your own life.”

Alora inhaled deep, extending her lungs to the pain point.

“I go alone.” Garrik’s hand fell to his sword. “I made a promise that I must keep.”

“I can help?—”

“You will be a distraction.”