Page 172 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

“The tree line is up ahead!” Silas shouts.

Hyde, the midnight stallion beneath him, eats up the road, his beautiful body rippling with strength. He’s the finest horse in Verdanthia, and he’s also General Ironheart’s.

If I weren’t so terrified, I’d laugh and imagine the general’s fury when he finds his prized stallion stolen. As it is, I can’t do more than smirk, the subtle amusement fading the moment Silas turns in his saddle and locks me in his stare.

“Once we’re in the forest,” he says, voice hard as steel, “keep your head down and trust the horse to follow a safe path.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. His jaw tightens with his assessing stare before he finally turns back around.

I release the breath I’ve been holding. I wish Anton were leading me to the camp.

He may have deceived everyone about his true nature, but the hints of regret I glimpsed back in the cell were real. I still trust him…for the most part.

But Anton isn’t with us. He’s escorting Juniper to safety. Then he claims he has something to do before he can join us in the clearing.

So, here I am, following the human rebel who’s actually a Fae in disguise, praying to the Goddess Olyra that she will weave fate in our favor, and that we aren’t too late to stop the tragedy that’s about to unfold.

What in the hells am I doing?

I’m not sure anymore. But it’s too late to turn back now.

I duck my head low, and we crash into the trees. I tense, prepared for Moonlight to balk at the forest’s cursed scent, but she plunges after Hyde without hesitation, hooves drumming the earth.

Branches scratch my face. My filthy nightgown snags and tears. Blood trickles into my eyes. I blink over and over, too afraid of releasing the reins to wipe the stinging liquid away.

Magic stirs, rising to my skin, clotting and smoothing the scratches along my face.

Thank you.

The power gives a little swirl over my cheek, then dives back into my chest and cools.

Silas rides with easy grace, turning, weaving, leading us deeper and deeper into the frightening forest. I hang on for dear life, refusing to think of the velcrin or the klarv. The natchling or the Onyx Wraith. Not with a Fae in front of me.

Just like with Jaxon, the monsters won’t come out to play when a stronger predator is present. I hope.

Clang.

The metallic scream reverberates through the trees. Shouts. Cries.

Please, no.

Silas kicks his heels into Hyde’s flank. The general’s steed takes off. Moonlight bolts after him, nearly unseating me. I fold over her mane, eyes squeezed shut and grip tight, whispering desperate prayers that we aren’t too late.

When the trees thin, blinding sunlight erupts across my vision. Moonlight slows to a trot, and I lift my head⁠—

And gasp.

The clearing is a massacre.

Bloodied bodies litter the ground. Swords stick out of chests, and broken bows and arrows are spread amongst the carnage.

The red scarves of Nalderall and thick, black leather belts of Hammond’s fighting men reveal it’s not just Verdanthian soldiers who decided to undertake this foolish mission. Dozens of them lay butchered, carpeting the earth.

We’re too late.

My stomach twists. I think of the families they’ve left behind. Of wives who are denied work because of sexist ideals. Of children who won’t be able to eat.

But there’s no time to mourn.