Page 61

In doing so, Thalon’s dark horse swatted its tail, cracking like a whip into the younger sentry as they passed by.

Jade amusingly grinned, murmuring, “Aren’t animals lovely?” And patted her horse on its dark chestnut neck.

Garrik’s smile half twitched at the corners, draping Smokeshadows from his shoulders and flowing them behind him like a cape as he pulled forward, leading them through the checkpoint, and leaving the sentries all but pissing in their armor behind.

To the right side of the dusty road, the Ravens that had summoned Garrik outside his camp that morning impatiently sulked by a small purple tent. And with little pleasantries, the Ravens escorted them through a labyrinth much like their own.

Ten guards greeted them first as they rounded a corner, standing alert outside a massive structure’s entrance. Their spear ends cratered in the dirt as five more soldiers reclined by a fire, cooking what smelled to be decaying fish that had boiled in the blaring heat for a week on a blackstone. And they did it all under the blistering sun of a rainless desert.

Fucking repulsing.

This campsite sat in the middle of camp, and the canvas they were guided to was equal in size to Eldacar’s library. Purple canvas was plastered with the High King’s crest so large it could be determined from the sky. A red-eyed, black raven, outlined in flakes of gold.

Another pathetic display ofdisillusionedpower.

Brennus can shove it up his?—

A female figure parted the ten guards, walking their way, and stopping Garrik’s thoughts like a fortress crafted of crystal. No one else would notice the pulse of his unusual heartbeat begin to thunder or the way his body stiffened, forgetting to breathe. Or the way his fist trembled, illusioned by something malicious in his twisted face.

She was dressed unlike the rest.

In the smoke-filled breeze, a floor-length, sleeveless, black gown accentuated the swells of her chest and curves, as the silken fabric fluttered with every slithering step. A slit rose up to the hip, revealing toned, pale legs that he wanted nothing more than to devastate and snap and break.

And where he imagined his hand around her throat, gripping and denying air to her lungs, a caged, black necklace, waving likea nest of serpents, wrapped the length of her defined neck and connected at the chest of the gown.

Garrik gritted his teeth, tightening his jaw at the sight of her. A vicious growl escaped his lips. He smelled her… Smelled the sickly sweet and venomous aroma carrying in the breeze from the long waves of raven-black hair cascading down shoulders that he never wanted to touch again.

And those eyes.

Serpent-like, wholly inked like an abyss, stalking his movements and every labored breath.

Jade loosened a vicious hiss as Thalon bounded off his horse, hand steady on his golden sword. Ready—waiting—with focused intensity.

The High Prince dismounted too, speaking softly for only Ghost to hear before her nose nuzzled against his hand, and he turned to Thalon.

“Wait here, tend to Ghost.”

But Thalon’s face burned with something lethal, taking a step to settle himself between the female and his High Prince, the grip on his hilt tightening enough that the leather groaned.

One brutal flash of Garrik’s eyes was enough to convey a simple command, and Thalon pressed his boot a step back, nodding ever so unwillingly, and submitted.

Watching the female slither closer, Jade’s face was much the same. Tension rolling in waves from her shoulders until it reached her toes, the contorted snarl from her lips perfectly displayed her virulent disapproval. Jade’s palm fell to the hilt of her sword, half unsheathing it as the raven-haired female snaked closer, and the twirling dagger between her fingers sat motionless, perfectly positioned to glide through the air with brutal accuracy.

His Shadow Order’s loyalty would not save him today. It never could. Not from?—

Garrik pivoted, facing the serpent, who locked black eyes on his figure. A growl as deadly as the depths of Firekeeper’s realm reverberated from his soul, slicing the thickening air between them.

If a name could freeze the flames of Firekeeper’s realm … hers was the one. But he would not give her the satisfaction of that poison from his tongue. Noteveragain.

The female stopped at his side, displaying a wry, graceful wave. She scratched her nails, sharpened like the edge of a sword, and fingertips covered in ombré black until it faded at the knuckles, onto the chest of Garrik’s armor. A slithering darkness snaked down her fingers like venom and then danced in the air around her hand.

“My pet.” The voice, sensual and as deadly as poison, carried memories of dark rooms, endless screams, and bloodied skin. Oblivion for eyes, lust playfully flickered, following her outstretched nails tracing down the muscled planes of his body. “So nice tofeelyou again.”

That touch…

The dagger-nailed hand instantly crushed in his unrelenting grip as a shivering growl seethed through the air.

Garrik’s eyes turned cold as death. “Do not fucking touch me.” His threat lingered heavily in the air as he stared forward, refusing her the satisfaction of his attention. Not after all she had done. Not after she…