Page 87

Walls of thick canvas began to swallow him. Suffocating like he was drowning underwater, starving for air.

The borders of his vision darkened. The threat: an endless abyss of terror.

His world sunk deeper … into a dark dream—a memory—the horrific place he wished was long forgotten by time instead of the slow, terrible death he had been forced to endure.

That blood dripping from his back did not soak into the soft furs beneath his feet but on graystones stained by endless years of throat-tearing screams and unimaginable suffering. And those breaths ripping the lashes open with each excruciating inhale were cries for mercy under ceaseless pleas bound by shackles and chains and …

Garrik’s legs buckled as he forced his eyes open, almost dropping to his knees.

Part of him wondered how he could be such a starsdamned fool. How he had not anticipated what they planned so long ago in Magnelis’s war room when they?—

Another wave of agony pulsed across his flesh, and he realized that his complexion had blanched.

These visions were prone to getting painfully physical. Having power over him until he inevitably was thrown into the depths of his personal hell. Preying on him with something as simple as a brush of the wind.

Like a sharpened blade, they cut deep and slow. And the scars on his back … they were nothing compared to the ones lurking under the surface.

Even so, he deserved the consequences he had willingly suffered today.

Every last stripe.

Feel it, starsdamnit. Feel what you have done.

Thalon could have cleaved him in two. It still would not be enough to cover his sins. To purge even the outer layers of his immorality.

Garrik gnashed his teeth together, willing himself to remain upright.

After some time—which wouldneverbe enough—Garrik braced himself on the table with a trembling arm and dunked a washcloth into the clean, cold water. He nearly groaned at the relief when he lifted it over his shoulder and squeezed. Allowing it to flow down his flesh, forming rapid streams of crimson that poured from the wounds. Over and over he repeated, feeling the water cool his boiling flesh and soak his pants.

He did not turn when the sound of fury-filled footsteps burst through the door. There was no point in turning. He already sensed who entered as he stiffened into an illusion of strength,because anyone seeing him with such weakness was wholly unbearable and unacceptable.

“You bastard!”

Garrik forced his eyes closed and unamusingly sighed. “Try that again,” he growled, tensing at what his voice and breaths felt like.

“No,bastardis exactly what I meant.”

A low growl reverberated through his chest, and he splashed the washcloth down, returning that hand to grip the table. Garrik managed to tilt his head over his shoulder, spearing her with his unfocused stare.

“What is on your mind, Alora?” he asked. But what he really meant was,I amnotin the fucking mood.

“What in Firekeeper-filled-hell was that? You tell me last night that my punishment was a loss of my freedom and today dothis?”

His grip tightened, deepening a nerve-settling breath. Otherwise, he would snap. “You are angry … because you stood in the comfort of your own unharmed body … while I was ripped to shreds in front of my Dragons by my brother’s hand? Bold of you.” Garrik’s vision returned to the water, almost emptied, housing a revolting crimson hue.

Behind him, Alora fumed. Only by the small use of his powers did he see those sapphires blaring to whitened embers, staring at his bleeding back.

“You did this to punish me!” she accused, and it took every last shred of his sanity not to bite back.

Garrik slammed his fist on the tabletop, thankful his Smokeshadows were subdued by the drug Thalon administered, causing Alora to flinch.

“Punishyou?” He scoffed, twisting to her and ignoring the sharp pain. “Forgive me. I did not realize that these lashes fell upon your back.”

With the last bit of his strength, Garrik swung an open palm, barreling into the water basin, sending it whirling across the room with a metal clang.

“Take your punishment andget out.” The words, the pain, they were too much. He stumbled onto the pillar as it collided with his chest and shoulder.

Alora lunged forward. Catching—stopping—his feverish body from plummeting to the ground.