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“Undoubtedly, I was not summoned here to be informed of the latest activities inside your bedchamber.”Or tofucking witness them.

Seething, Garrik pressed his hand onto the map strewn across the table, his throat working at the lingering memory and touch of hands. He squeezed his abdomen under the armor and focused on the trade routes of Zyllyryon until they reached the shores of Galdheir.

Soft purrs and pleased mewls tainted the air behind him. A never-ending reminder of…

Garrik bit back the nausea rising. If it were not for his own powers rendered null on Brennus, he could simply steal into that repulsive mind and obtain the reason for this summons. But Brennus was conniving. The High King, resourceful.

By Garrik’s … unwilling participation so many years ago, Magnelis discovered a foothold, a way to subdue and protect his own mind from his, inincrediblyloose terms, son. A drug was formulated. One that left Garrik’s powers of the mind whollyuseless on those who were deemed vital enough to savor its effects. And Brennus, being the second-most powerful High Fae in Elysian, was one of them.

Without fail, Brennus never missed a dose.

When a strangled moan reverberated through the tent, Garrik slammed his fist on the table, rattling his glass. “What of Telldaira last night?”

Brennus’s breathy chuckle was enough to send Garrik over the edge, but he stood from his chair, pushing his females aside, and circled the table while fastening the belt of his robe. “My Ravens seized one Marked One in the north. When questioned, his demeanor shifted, and we determined an attempt to protect someone.” He collected the glass Garrik had not emptied and threw it to his lips, grimacing at the burn. “Telldaira was ripped apart until we were satisfied that she was gone.”

Garrik forced himself not to smile. “She? Did he surrender a name?”

“No. Your snake and Malik administered the pre-washing on him. But it was determined he would be more compliant in Galdheir’s dungeons. My Ravens departed with him for the castle a few hours ago and should arrive within two weeks. I require your abilities to locate her.”

Gazing at the map as if it held every answer, Garrik traced his fingers along the shores of Castle Galdheir, across the trade routes to Telldaira, over mountain ranges, swirling vast rivers, and forests. The Kingdom of Zyllyryon—his mother’s kingdom—his birthright—was the largest in the realm. Double to the three kingdoms that occupied this piece of land. No High Fae, save for himself and his dawning powers, could cross it in less than five months.

“I will require time. The moment my powers locate her, you will be informed.” Garrik wrenched himself from the table,pivoting fast enough that his cloak caught the wind before storming toward the entrance.

“You were not dismissed,boy.” Brennus adjusted his robe and slumped back on his throne.

Garrik bore his gaze into the furs on the ground, lifted his head, and sighed, which went unnoticed. “By all means, do go on.” Annoyance filled his tone. He turned back, facing Brennus.

“I have a tent waiting for your quiet reflection. You will find the Marked One here within my camp and then you can leave. I am certain we can find something for your,” he said, pausing, “gutter rats to do in the meantime.” Brennus lifted his finger. “Guards!”

Four Ravens entered and stood at attention in the doorway.

“See that theprinceis comfortable in his accommodations for the afternoon.”

One guard outstretched his arm, gesturing for Garrik to walk through the exit. Jade and Thalon were waiting, arms crossed and faces taut. Upon seeing his return, they both walked toward him and met by his side.

“Sire? Are we returning to camp?” Jade questioned.

The guards flooded around Garrik, ushering him along until they stopped at a nearby tent. His new make-shift prison was fit for a servant.

“Brennus commands the use of my powers for a missing Marked One. Wait here. I will collect you once I find her.”

Jade and Thalon exchanged knowing glances before nodding.

Garrik bent at his waist, entering the obvious display of blatant disregard for who he was. Inside, a small, rickety chair sat against the wall, and a table with a map waited.

He leaned back through the canvas, giving the order, “Do not disturb me.” And ducked low, vanishing inside.

Two hours passed. No one witnessed Garrik retire from the tent.

And they would not have. Simply because he had not been there since he sealed the tent with his powers and dawned away in a cloud of Smokeshadows.

A tap outside rippled through his mind, calling across the kingdom from where he had stolen away to, alerting him to the unwanted intrusion.

A voice, muffled inside his mind, echoed, “Brennus grows impatient. He summons you.”

Then another voice, one who knew of his absence. One who knew a diversion was needed until he transformed into his shadows and misted back inside the tent…

Thalon’s voice cut in, “Sire. Show some starsdamned respect.”