Page 21 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

Bile rises in my throat.

I reach out to assess the extent of the injury, but the dark tendrils press into my skin. They don’t pierce flesh, but the unspoken threat is there.

“Come,” the pale Fae commands.

The power yanks me toward the stage. I cry out and dig my heels into the floor, only to nearly fall on my face when the tendrils pull me with increased force. I stumble forward, then lean back to keep my feet under me.

“My lord, there’s been a misunderstanding,” Lev shouts from close behind. A glance confirms he’s keeping pace with me. “She doesn’t know the ways of Fae. She doesn’t understand what it means to make a deal.”

The Fae releases a deep, humorless laugh. “And whose fault is that?”

“Please, my lord.” Lev throws himself in front of my path, trying but failing to stop my forward progress with his body. “This is not right!”

My stomach drops at the darkness that overcomes the Fae’s face.

“Are you lecturing me, human?”

“Stand down, soldier,” General Ironheart booms.

Lev stiffens, but he doesn’t move. The tug on my arms pauses, as if intrigued to see how this plays out.

Lev’s father stomps over. His furious eyes flick to me before they focus on his son. “Move, soldier.”

Lev’s body shakes. “You cannot let them take her. The town needs her.”

Oh, Lev…

“I said…” Ironheart grabs his shirt and throws him to the side. “Stand down.”

Lev doesn’t fight his father’s grip, though he could. He’s no longer the lanky teen the general struck down whenever he displeased him.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes at Lev’s defeated posture, but when our gazes lock, I exhale a tiny sigh of relief at the strength burning in his brown eyes.

I force a reassuring smile before I’m once again tugged toward the stage.

I do my best to hold my head high, pretending I don’t hear the pitying whispers and grateful murmurs of those I pass. I can’t look at them. I’ll lose my nerve if I do. Because with each step I take, I realize I messed up.

Lev’s right. I don’t know the ways of Fae. And clearly I’ve made a mistake by speaking up. But it’s too late now. I need to focus. To listen.

I need to learn what the hell I’ve gotten myself into so I can get out of it.

I focus on the stage, avoiding the shadowed eyes of the three Fae burning into me.

The Elders watch me with varying expressions. Unease. Confusion. Relief.

The only one who appears concerned is Whitestone. His thick white brows are drawn over sad, apologetic eyes.

Emotion clogs my throat.

I turn away and scan the crowd, relieved when I don’t see a familiar head of red hair. Anton got Ferria out.

Good.

My impulsive sister wouldn’t hesitate to throw herself into danger to save me. Just like I’m doing now.

The tugging stops. My head snaps forward. I gasp and lean back. Instead of the pale Fae, I stand before the one with sun-kissed skin.

The Fae’s dark, swirling eyes capture mine, like living smoke with a mind of its own, conveying emotion that’s otherwise hidden by his stoic features. Emotion I still can’t decipher.