Page 194 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

I glance between him and my sister. Neither meets the other’s eyes. Tension crackles in the air.

I clear my throat. “Where are the others?”

“Debriefing Darius on everything that’s happened since he fell unconscious,” Anton says. Then, after a pause, he adds, “Except Silas. He’s off scouting, determined to find out all he can about the humans who attacked us and how far their network stretches.”

My stomach knots. So much blood spilled today, and I have no doubt that it’s only the beginning. Ferria and I need to get far away from this region before things escalate.

I look around the tent, my sight slowly clearing after the unusual vision. “Why am I here?”

Anton’s forehead furrows. “Don’t you remember? You used your magic to heal Darius, and then⁠—”

“No,” I interrupt. “Why am I here? In Darius’s tent?”

“Oh.” He blinks. “Well, technically, it’s⁠—”

“Because my friends couldn’t very well leave the magnificent creature who saved my life to recover from her efforts while lying on the ground,” a new, rich, masculine voice cuts in.

My eyes shift and find a tall, lean figure standing in the tent opening. Lantern light flickers across the side of his face, casting his features half in shadow.

When he steps fully into the glow of the scattered lanterns in the tent, my breath catches.

Not because Darius is handsome—even ill, his sculpted features were striking.

No. I am stunned because he looks healthy. Whole. Smooth, pale skin similar to Draven’s has replaced his gray pallor. His dark eyes are wide and bright, outshone only by his dazzling white smile. He looks perfect, fully restored.

The thick rug muffles his boots as he closes the distance between us. I blink as he kneels beside Ferria, forcing my sister to shift or press against his toned arm.

My thoughts stutter when he takes my hand, his touch deliberate, his gaze unyielding. He lifts it slowly and brushes his lips across my skin.

“Hello at last, my beautiful mate.”

39

Every nerve in my body short-circuits. A tidal wave’s roar fills my ears, so loud it drowns out thought.

I gape at the kneeling Fae in front of me, my mouth dry, struggling to convince myself I misheard him.

But Darius doesn’t twitch. Doesn’t so much as shift his weight. He meets my stare head-on, calm confidence radiating off him like heat. His eyes gleam with knowing and amusement.

A prickle crawls along my skin, as if the air itself has soured. My stomach knots, twisting tighter with each breath.

This is wrong… I think I’m going to be sick.

“What the hells did you just say?” Ferria’s shout rips through the nauseating haze.

The sound snaps my mind back into place. I wrench my hand out of Darius’s grasp. He lets go easily.

“Don’t answer that, Darius,” Anton growls as his eyes narrow on his prince’s back. “You’re lucky he didn’t hear you joking around like that.”

A glimmer of mischief sparks in Darius’s gaze. “Are you sure about that?”

Before I can blink, a shadow whips into the tent, cutting the air with an icy whoosh. I stumble back as the dark form halts over the cot, its sheer mass flickering black and gray like smoke over embers.

Then it dives for Darius.

I shriek.

Darius laughs.