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There was that critical gaze again, like he was studying her. “Do you wish for me to punish you more severely? Perhaps for my barbarous side to inflict harm upon you? Cut off your hands for attempting to steal Ghost. Break your legs for running. Tie you to a tree, lash you a hundred times for Aiden’s injuries.”

The blood in her body drained.

“I am nothimanymore,” Garrik continued, deepening a long, slow breath, and lifted the bottle to his lips. “Your punishment fits. But if you wish to be punished more—” Setting the bottle on the ground beside him, Garrik moved to stand.

“No… No!” Alora repeated, her panic making him pause. Her voice breathy and words a jumbled mess of incomplete thoughts. “It’s only … I caused this—Aiden to be … I just expected something … more.”

The High Prince’s mouth twisted into a grin, amused. “Then my orders stand.”

There weredays that Alora would enter Kaine’s bedchamber, only to find his back turned as he removed the finery from his jacket sleeves.

His cold face would turn to hers. As if he’d been expecting her to attend to his perversions much sooner than her arrival. And when she wasn’t quick enough to please him. When his desires exceeded even his own awareness of them. When her feet had begged not to climb the staircase and go to him, those were the worst, most brutal days.

Alora dragged her feet until they stopped inches from Jade’s tent.

She imagined that standing outside this thin wall of fabric would feel much the same. A wooden door or canvas, it didn’t matter. Behind, a terrible storm was dawning.

Inside, Jade stiffened on a cot that was mounded with plush pillows to the right, and she continued sharpening her sword. The room was nearly a perfect reflection of how she expected it to be. Besides the clothing trunks, a cot-side table with a lantern held dancing, glowing orbs of light instead of flames—that was unexpected. Pelt rugs left not one inch of the dirt below, peppering the floor in her kills. And by no surprise, a weapons rack, filled with blades of all shapes and sizes, covered the length of the back wall. A wooden pillar in the middle held two nails; one supported a mirror and on the other hung a leather corded necklace with an ivory … bone? Alora couldn’t be sure. Whatever it was, Jade took notice of her stare and snarled, baring her teeth.

“Garrik said I couldn’t kill you. That doesn’t mean I won’t thrust my daggers into your hands for touching anything in this tent.” Jade slid a sharpening stone along the edge of her blade. “And don’t even think about bringing fire in here.”

Alora’s lips tightened, entertaining the idea to light her palms in flames just for the sake of pissing Jade off. But it wasn’t worth it. Not tonight. Not when she was exhausted and only wanted to crash her head into a pillow instead of starting a war—because that is exactly what it would be—a battle to the death.

She scanned the room. Pushed off to the left corner, in a wrinkled heap, laid Alora’s cot. Unassembled.Of course.Instead of breaking her resolve, she strode to a large trunk that sat in the way, glanced at Jade with a sarcastic baiting grin, and pushed it to the side. New spot chosen, Alora began setting up the cot.

Jade hissed, but she didn’t care.

When she had almost completed the setup, the lantern light darkened entirely, and Jade laid back on her cot. By the rustling of furs and blankets, Jade had settled. And to no surprise, her sword draped across her stomach, hand tightened around the hilt.

Alora lifted her eyes and shook her head as if she could see the night-dark sky.Maker of the Skies, give me the strength not to kill her.

Before long, the cot was shoved against the tent wall and her obsidian dagger was pulled from her waist and nestled between the frame and mattress. The leather hilt jutted just enough that the crystal gemstone would gleam in the light—if there was any—and was easily accessible if she needed to counter an attack.

With warm hands, Alora tapped around for a blanket. Her eyes focused enough that she could see there was none there.

Fighting the urge to remove the dagger and embed it into her new tent mate, she twisted to her feet.She must have left it back in my old tent.

With a frustrated sigh, Alora moved to exit but hesitated.

The only thing that calmed the bite on her tongue was the fact that Jade, comfortably settled on her cot, would have to get out to follow. “I need my blanket.”

“And, so?”

“You’re to accompany me everywhere I go. Too bad youforgotmy blanket.” That felt good. So. Damn. Good.

Jade twisted onto her side, facing away. “I’m in bed. I’m not getting back up for you.”

“Suit yourself.” Alora pushed through the opening and was greeted by the smoky night.

The fire had died down and that lonely candle cast silhouettes against the High Prince’s tent. As she walked out around the fire toward her old resting place, two hardened and sharp male voices were arguing inside.

“Look at you. You can barely stand now…” Thalon returned with a sharpened bite of something final in his tone, and the sound rattled down her spine. “No, Garrik, I won’t do it.” That …thatwas panic in his voice.

“You must. You are the only one I trust to do so.”

“Garrik, don’t make me do this.”

Jade’s hand grabbed Alora’s shoulder and spun her around. “Spying on the High Prince?Cursed Flames,” she swore. “I should run you through this instant.” She scowled and pushed Alora forward. “Get the starsdamn blanket before we’re both in shit again.”