Page 39 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

“Very well.” Whitestone clears his throat. “Complete the Fae’s task, Elara. And Verdanthia will be in your debt.”

I suppress a grimace. “I will do my best.”

The other Elders mutter their approval.

“Let us retire,” Elder Whitestone says. “It’s been a trying day for us all.”

The others don’t waste a moment. They rise and move to the sides of the stage, splitting into two groups. Captain Stormsword goes with one, and Steelvice goes with the other.

General Ironheart moves to follow Whitestone but pauses and looks at Lev. “I trust you to see Elara home.”

“Of course, General.” Lev tugs my hand, and I don’t hesitate to let him lead me out of the hall, through the market, down the dim streets that take us toward my quiet, dark cottage located just off the main road—one of the few with a plot of land to permit me to grow herbs needed for my trade.

I step inside, surprised to find it empty. I expected Ferria to be here, waiting for my return.

Unless she did something stupid…like go after me.

“Ferria is at the forge,” Lev says, as if reading my mind.

I mumble, “Oh.”

Working is how Ferria processes her emotions. The forge’s heat steadies her, and the hum of astlerium in her grasp soothes her as she uses her magic to mold both metal and the storm inside her.

While I am blessed with the gift of healing, Ferria has been gifted with the ability to manipulate fire. Just as using my power fills me with a sense of purpose, Ferria’s does the same.

Even so…I thought she’d be here.

Lev sets his lantern on my worktable, the smudged glass casting flickering patterns across my scattered notebooks and half-dozen medicinal vials. Then he turns the knob on the lamp in the corner of my sitting area.

My footsteps echo against the worn floorboards. A bowl of uneaten oatmeal sits on the kitchen counter where I left it to cool this morning, the faint scent of cinnamon lingering, forgotten when I noted the time and rushed to meet Ferria to prepare for the market.

I wonder if she’ll be up for overseeing our stall alone at the market tomorrow…if the Elders hold true and allow it to go on.

I hope they do. We desperately need that money. Even more so if I fail the Fae and we need to make a run for it.

Stop it.

I shake away the negative thought. I told myself I’ll try to fulfill my deal with the Fae. I need to focus my energy on doing just that.

Lev’s voice disrupts the quiet. “Are you all right?”

I lean against the wall next to my paint-chipped bedroom door, feeling the cool wood beneath my shoulders, and sigh. “As good as I can be, given the circumstances.”

His lips turn down as he moves closer. The lantern light dances across the planes of his face, shadows sharpening the line of his jaw.

His fingers brush the base of my throat, and his gaze trails down to my arms. “I want to kill them.”

“Don’t.” I take his hand and press it to my chest. “I’m fine. I will be fine.”

If I say the words enough, maybe I’ll believe them.

The muscle in his jaw tics. Shadows from the lamp in the sitting room deepen the hollows of his handsome cheeks. “Do you want me to stay?”

The offer is tempting. My fingers itch to lace with his, to revel in the delicious press of his body between my legs until the storm inside me quiets. Even for a moment, I want to forget the deal, the Fae, the danger gnawing at the edges of every thought.

But there’s something I need to do. With this power coiling around my throat, ready to punish me anytime I come close to revealing anything about my deal, it’s reckless to let him be here.

I can’t risk letting desire—or comfort—cloud my focus. Not when every inch of me screams that one misstep could undo everything.