Page 87 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

He crosses his arms. “Well, all except the nobles’ daughters.”

“There it is.” Ferria snorts. “Only peasants are expendable.”

“The nobles’ daughters are trained to lead,” Jaxon says. “Females rule alongside the males. We do not belittle them.”

“Then why do you have a king?” She steps forward in challenge. “Where’s the queen?”

I grab her arm and yank her back with a fierce glare.

What in the hells is she doing?

It’s one thing to banter back and forth with the semi-good-natured Fae. It’s another thing to provoke him.

“Our queen died a long time ago.” Jaxon’s shadows whip around him. “And our world has been a dark place without her.”

Another bolt of lightning cracks.

I stare at Jaxon with wide eyes. Is that his doing?

Ferria “humphs” and looks away, but she chews her bottom lip, seeming unsettled by his heartfelt declaration.

“Can you go check on Darius so we can leave?” she asks me. “I have work to do at the forge.”

I don’t waste a second.

“Of course.” I pick up my disheveled skirts and hurry away from the training yard, eager to leave behind the tension brewing between those two.

They’re either going to fight or fuck. I don’t want to witness either.

I weave through the unlit firepits, stepping over leather sacks and bedrolls in canvas covers. Strings on my frayed skirt brush along the ground. I glance at the soldiers I pass, but they make a point to avoid my gaze.

I’m wondering at their ever-consistent silence when I duck into the opulent tent, releasing a relieved sigh when I find I’m alone. Well…except for Darius.

The unconscious Fae lies in the same position as always. Cotton blanket drawn over his muscular torso, his elbows bent so his palms rest at his sides. His tunic, however, is different. Instead of the usual midnight black all the Fae wear, this one is dark blue, like the deepest depths of the Astlorian Sea.

“Hello, Darius.” My flats pad against the plush carpet as I cross the space to kneel at his side. “How are you today?”

His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.

I reach for the broth on the nightstand and scoop up a small spoonful. Despite Draven criticizing me for feeding his friend, the nutritious liquid has been on the nightstand every time I’ve come to treat Darius.

And I may be delusional, but I swear, his gray pallor is a little less…well…gray.

I drip the broth past his lips, then lower the bowl, move to the washbasin, wring out a cloth, and lay the cool fabric over his brow.

I sit back on my heels and watch his breaths for a few seconds, mentally noting they’re the same pace as earlier today, then draw out my satchel from where I tucked it under the cot.

I hug the thick tome to my chest, my shoulders falling with an exhale.

Ferria and I finally sat down to study the book last night, and her optimism about figuring out a way to read it was squashed the moment she saw the intricate glyphs and sigils that compose the Fae alphabet. It looks like I’m stuck trying to make sense of pictures for now.

I turn the thick pages slowly, scanning each of the elaborate drawings. A vial with bubbling liquid. The thorns of a flower resembling the hydralilies that float across lakes in the eastern territory. And a symbol that I’ve seen several times, the selmary rose embossed on a golden circlet.

Frustration gnaws at me. This is pointless. Fae magic isn’t an option. Mine should be sufficient if only I could⁠—

Wait.

My eyes snap up to the sleeping Fae, my heart racing.