Page 2 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

“Lev…”

“What?” He props himself up on the elbow of his uninjured arm, turning his torso toward me. “Would you rather I not defend your honor?”

I snort. “Everyone in this village knows you’re the one who sullied it in the first place.”

Somewhere between running through the foreboding forest as children and sneaking out past curfew in adolescence, our friendship paved the way to affection. And affection to lust. And lust to…casual partnership?

Lev’s mock outrage morphs into sheepish humor. “Yes, well…that doesn’t mean Dian can make jokes about you.”

“He’s your cousin. Practically your brother.” I scoot forward and resume cleaning his angry wound. “His life’s purpose is to give you a hard time.”

“Even so, he doesn’t get to speak about your beauty to me. Or about how perfectly round your ass is underneath those skir⁠—”

“Lev!” I snap my gaze over my shoulder, confirming we’re still alone in the aged healing quarters attached to the soldiers’ barracks. “Be quiet.”

“What? Are you ashamed of me now?”

Hardly. Lev Ironheart is arguably the most eligible bachelor in town.

And me?

I’m one of the fortunate young women not forced into a match to help replenish our population after the Shadow Wars. But that doesn’t stop me and Lev from practicing whenever the opportunity arises.

Thank the Gods for thistleweed tonics.

“Healer! Healer Stonebloom?” A panicked shout travels through the half-open wooden shutters behind me. “I’m looking for Elara Stonebloom!”

Ah, there it is.

The reason I’m exempt from the deplorable breeding expectation imposed on all womankind.

I jump to my feet, swing my satchel over my shoulder, and rush across the creaky floor.

The thud of Lev’s boots follows.

I grab the weathered bronze handle and throw open the door just as a man covered in ash-gray dirt stumbles, catching himself on the splintered doorframe.

He’s young. Unfamiliar. He must’ve just become eligible to work in the mines—mines that provide us safety from the Fae overlords up north.

“Healer Stonebloom,” he huffs, his slim shoulders rising and falling with rapid breaths.

My foot is already on the dusty ground outside. “What’s happened?”

“Cavern collapse.” The young man turns and runs through the well-worn training yard, heading toward the market square. “Come quick.”

Shit.

I lift my skirts and hurry to catch up. Lev’s steady footfalls remain close behind, keeping pace with me.

“How many are injured?” I call out between shallow breaths, cursing the fact that my profession rarely demands physical endurance.

“Just one,” he shouts over his shoulder, skirting around a cart of delicate, hand-painted seashells. “Rolf. We got him out, but he’s hurt. Bad.”

I dodge a woman carrying a pile of faded celebratory banners. “Where is he?”

“We carried him to his parents’ home.”

Damn it.