Page 196 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

Even imagining it threatens to tear my heart to shreds.

Her fingers tighten, tears brimming. “How did you escape?”

I sigh and tug her so she sits on the edge of the cot. Then I tell her about Silas. About Anton breaking the shackles. About healing Dian.

I don’t speak of the torture. Her eyes flick to my throat, to my wrists, lingering too long. Maybe she knows. Maybe she doesn’t. Either way, I won’t burden her with confirmation.

“So it’s true, then,” she murmurs, her shoulders falling ever so slightly. “We won’t be able to go back to our old lives.”

The ache in her words pierces me. Both Ferria and I worked hard to establish lives for ourselves. We overcame the odds and proved everyone who doubted Kinless children could ever amount to anything wrong.

We stood tall and took every insult thrown our way. Every prejudice. Every judgment. And now we have to leave it all behind.

We both knew there was a chance our magic would be discovered and we’d have to run, but we certainly never thought Fae would come into town and our neighbors would turn against us. And that’s without even knowing about our powers.

Ferria sighs. Then, her voice sharpens. “I can’t believe those assholes lied about the astlerium. My entire life’s work—nothing but a lie.”

I slide my arm around her shoulder and draw her into my side. The cot creaks under us. “I’m sorry.”

There’s nothing else to say. No vague optimism or encouragement will be enough to erase the tragic truth of what’s transpired in Verdanthia.

The Elders ordered men and boys into those mines to harvest a metal they hoped to use as weapons against Fae. The men who were supposed to have the town’s best interests in mind actively endangered everything anyone has ever built. And now they’re not even in power.

General Ironheart and his lackeys may have lost a considerable number of their fighting men, but I have no doubt they will hold on to their new leadership positions. Verdanthians are docile. Submissive. They won’t stand against a man they respect as highly as the general.

“We have to tell everyone,” Ferria says suddenly, her voice alight with conviction.

I blink. “What?”

She pulls away, meeting my gaze. “We have to tell everyone the astlerium shipments are a lie—that our leaders were planning to start a war with Fae this entire time. People deserve to know.”

She’s right. Of course she is. But⁠—

“Ferria.” I speak softly. I don’t want to upset her further, but there’s no way around it. “No one will believe us.”

“Then we make them believe us.” Crimson flashes in her gaze.

I jolt.

Ferria presses on, oblivious to her slip of power. “We cannot stand by. We know the truth. We must tell it.”

A low voice cuts like a blade. “You are naive.”

Our heads snap toward the tent flap.

Rian stands there, shadows flowing off him like water, smooth and graceful, pooling at his feet. Gone are his agitation and anger from when he dealt with Lev. He’s once more the stoic, composed Fae I’ve come to know.

Darius and Jaxon stand on either side of him, arms crossed with blank expressions, though Jaxon’s eyes trail over Ferria for a prolonged moment before he turns his attention to Rian.

I force myself not to look at Darius. The memory of his preposterous claim is too fresh.

“What did you say?” Ferria snaps.

Her eyes flash, but thankfully they’re no longer red. Her power is under control. For now.

Rian’s smoky gaze fixes on my sister. “No citizen of Verdanthia will believe you. Not without proof.”

She bristles. “You don’t know that⁠—”