Page 187 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

I stiffen as every Fae soldier pivots as one, their faces angled toward us.

Then—snap.

With the meeting of Rian’s fingers, their bodies unravel. Smoke pours off them in thick curls. Their weapons vanish. Their armor dissolves.

A scream lodges in my throat.

Ferria gasps. “What the hells?”

Where over two dozen warriors stood moments ago, the clearing is now empty. Not a footprint mars the blood-soaked grass. Not a single dropped blade glints in the dim light.

Rian twists his wrist, palm up. The smoke surges, rushing across the clearing like a living tide. My breath snags. I brace for an attack, but the shadows flood straight into his outstretched hand. He closes his fingers. The last wisp disappears.

What. The. Hells.

The soldiers… Every silent, watchful figure who haunted my steps since the moment I entered their camp… They were shadows.

Memories slice through me. Waking to an empty camp. Wandering into Rian’s tent in confusion, searching for someone, anyone, to take me home.

I think of the soldiers’ eerie stillness. Their unnatural movements. The vacant stares.

They were never real. They were Rian’s creations. His shadows given flesh.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ferria’s voice cracks as sharp as a whip.

Anger is the shield she always uses when she’s afraid.

Me? I’m not angry…just terrified. Completely and undeniably terrified.

Because now I know that one single Fae can wield enough power to conjure an army from nothing. Rian, Jaxon, and Draven didn’t have to lift a finger to stop the humans’ attack. Rian’s power enabled him to end dozens of lives without breaking a sweat.

Tremors start in my hands, then crawl up my arms, spreading down into my legs. My knees weaken. I’m a breath away from collapsing when movement pulls my attention.

Draven.

Shadows coil over his black tunic as he strides toward me, eyes hard. I flinch, but he halts a foot away. Ferria presses to my side, clutching my hand.

Draven notices, and for the barest instant, something flickers in his gaze. Respect?

Then he says, voice deep and sharp, “If you cannot heal Darius, I will make it my personal mission to ensure that human boy suffers for it.”

Ferria’s grip tightens until my fingers ache, but I’m not affected by the threat. Fear of Rian’s power drowns out everything else.

“I understand.”

Respect glints again. He jerks his head. “Come.”

He spins on his heel, striding toward the opulent tent where rich blue fabric gleams in the newborn sunlight. The dark clouds shrouding the clearing have peeled away.

I draw a fortifying breath and follow. Ferria releases my arm but remains close.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she whispers.

Behind us, soft fabric rustles. Rian and Jaxon are moving, too. Listening.

“Yes,” I answer, though doubt snakes through me, twisting deep.

We reach Darius’s tent. Anticipation coils in my gut, vines tightening, squeezing. The shadows etched along my arms bristle at the emotion, prickling against my skin. My magic stirs in answer, sliding beneath them like cool water, settling their agitation.