Page 86 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

“No.” Shadows creep across Jaxon’s face, curling like smoke from an unseen fire. “About your town. Are you saying males mistreat their females?”

Both Ferria and I stiffen at the possessive phrase, but she holds back most of the irritation from her reply when she says, “Yes.”

“And it is allowed?” His voice cuts like a blade.

Ferria’s scowl falters, wariness flickering across her expression. “Uh…in so many words, yes.”

A thunderous crack splits the air. Lightning tears through the cloudless sky in a blinding arc. I flinch so hard my head smashes against Ferria’s chin.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” I breathe, whipping my gaze frantically across the tree line, searching for something—anything—that could explain the impossible. “What the hells was that!?”

“Nothing.” Jaxon’s gaze drifts past us, over the rough stretch of trampled earth, toward the opulent tent gleaming at the camp’s center. His frown deepens. “Someone needs to relax.”

I frown. What?

His focus snaps back, voice hard. “How common is it for males to harm females in Verdanthia?”

Ferria’s brow arches as she glances my way, silently passing the question to me.

I exhale, the sound heavy with resignation. “Common enough.”

As the town healer, I’ve seen more than I wish. Bruises hastily covered with cosmetics, split lips explained away with flimsy lies about accidents and falls. Too many women come to me bleeding, but they never confess the cause of their injuries.

“And Brother Fief is the most recent culprit,” Ferria cuts in, spewing the man’s name like a curse. “I don’t see why Jaslyn stays with that brute.”

I press my lips together. Jaslyn must be Fief’s wife.

I’ve seen and heard enough to know better than to judge another woman’s choices. I don’t know why Jaslyn stays with Fief, but I won’t criticize her for it. Our leaders should protect her and Rolf. They are the ones I judge.

“That is outrageous,” Jaxon growls.

Ferria’s eyes narrow into slits. “Are you saying Fae males don’t abuse those weaker than them?”

“Never.” The snarl rips from his throat with such conviction, it startles me.

Our doubt must be plain on our faces, because he continues. “If such a crime occurs in Eranthia, those males are punished. Females are valued. No honorable male would stand by and allow harm from the one who is meant to protect them.”

Valued.

Like the prized mares in the barracks—bred for strength, used for war, discarded when they’re no longer useful.

“Please.” Ferria rises with a huff. She slides her arms beneath mine and hauls me to my feet. “I don’t believe you. Your king is a murderous tyrant.”

Jaxon stiffens. Even the shadows clinging to him freeze, still as death.

His jaw grinds before he forces his next words out, clipped and sharp. “Not every male follows our king’s example.”

My brows lift despite myself. They don’t?

“But despite the Shadow King’s ruthless ways,” Jaxon continues, voice low, “females are treated far better in Eranthia than what I’ve witnessed among you humans.”

“How so?” I ask, eager to glean as much information about the Fae as his loose lips will allow.

“Well, for one, they are trained to fight.”

Ferria’s eyes shine at that. “All of them?”