Page 38 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

Beside me, Lev vibrates with his own fury.

I squeeze his hand. “It’s okay.”

His nostrils flare. “Nothing about this is okay.”

“Elara?” Elder Whitestone calls. Compassion flickers in his gaze, yet resolve sharpens its edges. “Think carefully. Is there any information you are able to share?”

I press my lips together. I run through several phrases and dismiss the ones that trigger the burning.

“The Fae gave me a task.” Sweat beads on my forehead, but my skin remains cool. “It’s…it’s part of the deal I made. Once it’s done…they will leave.”

I want to add what will happen when I inevitably fail, but the burn flares in warning.

“Then you must complete the task.” Bakersmith punctuates the words with a sharp slap to his chair’s arm.

Quarry adds, “As soon as possible.”

“Before they wreak havoc on innocents,” Elder Gorge huffs.

I wince as the added pressure falls on my shoulders.

“Elara?” Whitestone’s forehead furrows. “Is completing the task possible?”

Anticipation weighs heavily as all of the men in the room focus their loaded stares on me. Beside me, Lev’s body ripples with tension. I take a deep breath and think.

Is it?

I have no knowledge of Fae curses, no experience dealing with magic other than my own. And after what happened when I touched the injured Fae, I doubt I’ll be able to use my power to help him, even if I could.

I want to tell the Elders that the task is a fool’s errand, that failure is imminent.

But something stops me.

Pride?

The aversion to giving up?

Stubbornness?

Now that I’m not surrounded by Fae with their formidable, terror-inducing shadows, with stories of their cruelty racing through my mind, I consider another option.

Draven asked me to slow the decay, to buy them time. For what? I don’t know. I honestly don’t care.

But what if I can do it? What if I can find a way to help the Fae, as much as a mortal healer can?

What if I can slow down the disease's progression the tiniest amount, enough to free me from the deal and save Verdanthia from the Fae’s wrath?

For the first time since the Fae stomped into the meeting hall, the hope flickering in my heart doesn’t immediately blow out. I stoke it into a fire, one strong enough to rival the flames that burn me anytime I try to speak of the Fae’s secrets.

I’m not sure I can actually help the ailing Fae, but I’ll be damned if I don’t try.

“Elara?” Lev murmurs.

I whip my head up and blink until my vision clears.

“Yes.” I nod. “There’s a chance I can complete the task.”

The relief around the room is palpable. Even the formidable general’s head tilts forward.