Page 17 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

This monster is going to out me in front of the town I grew up in. Neighbors who clung to me with grateful tears when I saved their loved ones will cheer for my execution by the time the next sun rises.

Juniper’s sacrifices, Ferria’s dreams… They will all burn to ash because of me.

I trap the cry building in my throat behind clenched teeth as defeat creeps like cold poison through my limbs, rendering me immobile.

Then, abruptly, the Fae’s gaze slides away.

The invisible tether snaps, and my knees buckle. Lev catches my elbow, anchoring me against his side. My heart hammers against my ribs, and I suck in quick, desperate breaths.

“I did not expect such a welcome.” The paler Fae’s voice is a blade wrapped in velvet—smooth, deep, and deadly—as it travels over our heads.

A shiver races down my spine.

Elder Whitestone clears his throat and straightens, as if trying to salvage some semblance of dignity. The medallion hanging from his neck glints beneath the oil lamps, bearing Verdanthia’s crest—a rocky cliff behind a pair of crossed daggers. “You have arrived at an auspicious time, my lord. Our seasonal festival approaches, and Verdanthia will be hosting this year’s festivities.”

“Is that so?” The Fae tucks his hands behind his back, hidden by his long cloak. “How fortunate for us.”

The air thickens, heavy with fear and the cloying scent of too many bodies packed into a single room.

I glance at Ferria. Her eyes are wide, glassy. Anton’s hand grips her thigh like a restraint. I tilt my head, and her gaze darts between me and the Fae.

We’re thinking the same thing.

If things go bad, if it looks like the Fae will reveal our secret, we run. We will grab the emergency pack of clothes and essentials we keep tucked in the back of our closet and steal Giles from the barracks’ stable.

The stable hand on duty may question my right to take Lev’s stallion for a late-night stroll, but everyone knows about my relationship with Lev. If my smooth-talking doesn’t compel the unlucky soldier to let me take the horse, Ferria is more than prepared to resort to violence.

And I have no doubt her skills will make our escape a success.

After all these years, our plan has never changed… I just never thought we’d be forced to actually do it.

Holding my sister’s stare, I dip my chin.

Acceptance flickers across her face before she turns back to the stage. Anton leans closer to her, stony and silent, yet protective.

I force myself to shove aside my unease and listen to Elder Whitestone, who is still talking.

“The next shipment is due to leave tomorrow, but if King Marek needs it sooner, I’m sure we can⁠—”

“That will not be necessary,” the pale Fae cuts him off. “That is not why we are here.”

Whitestone falters. “It’s not?”

A ripple of unease threads through the crowd.

“No.” Cruel eyes sweep the room again. Bless the Gods, they pass over me like I’m nothing. “We have a more pressing matter to discuss with Verdanthia.”

“And what is that, my lord?” Elder Quarry asks, his voice hoarse.

The Fae pivots. I can’t see his face, but something in it makes Quarry recoil.

“There is a rebellion brewing.” The paler Fae sneers. “And my sources say it festers here, in your quaint little town.”

Gasps echo in my ears, sharp and disbelieving. Whispers follow, surging like a sudden gust of wind. Some clutch at sleeves; others sit stone still.

Whitestone’s face drains of color. “That is impossible. Verdanthia has been loyal for decades. We would never risk⁠—”

“And yet,” the Fae drawls, “rumors say otherwise.”