Page 88 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

The last time I tried to use my magic on Darius, whatever curse ails him attacked my power. There are times even now, five days later, when I feel evidence of the damage it caused. I haven’t tried using my power on him since. I haven’t touched him since.

But…something’s different now. I drop my gaze to my palms. A smile pulls at my lips.

Why didn’t I think of this sooner?

I grin like a maniac, shoot a quick look over my shoulder, and listen. I don’t know how long I’ll be alone. Better to try this out now.

I close the book and set it aside, then scoot closer to Darius and shut my eyes. With a deep breath, I hold out my hands and let them hover over his body.

I think of the attack outside the forge. How my power seemed to come alive when I cried out for its help—how it wanted to help me.

I channel that same desperation now. Verdanthia won’t be safe until I help Darius. I won’t be safe. I need my magic to reach out to heal the male in front of me.

Tingles pepper my fingertips. Warmth spreads through my hands and up my arms.

Shadows slither over my forearms, but I ignore them. I focus on my magic—on the entity that has been borderline dismissive of my requests my entire life, but has changed so much in just a few days.

I’d be a fool if I didn’t suspect the presence of Fae had to do with the change. But if their arrival means I can do this…that I can use my Gods’ given power to not only mend human flesh, but rid a powerful being of a ravaging curse…the possibilities of what I can do are endless. Breathtaking.

I can do this. I know I can.

The tingles turn into sharp sparks. Still, I keep my eyes closed.

The last time my power burst from my body, it was over before I could see it. But now, I dwell in the moment. I memorize every sensation. How the hair on the back of my neck rises. How an electric charge simmers in the air. How I feel…strong.

The sparks turn into a solid stream. My eyes fly open, and I gasp with delight.

Bright-white magic dances along my fingertips—the manifestation of the power in my veins is beautiful. Perfect.

This is it. This is how I fulfill my deal with the Fae. This is how I help Darius and keep Verdanthia safe.

I take a breath and reluctantly tear my eyes off my stunning power.

My pulse accelerates as I lean closer to the cot, careful to move slowly as I extend my arms over Darius’s chest, afraid my delicate power will decide to stop playing nice and retreat into my body, never to be called forth again.

But before I can lay a hand on Darius, a snarl cracks through the air like a whip. “What in The Mother’s name do you think you’re doing?”

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My power stutters and blinks out of sight.

No!

I try to call it back, desperate to hold the stunning light in my hands. But my magic has retreated deep into my chest, refusing to return to the surface.

I whirl around, and my body seizes as I take in Rian’s menacing expression.

Even though my power is gone, he glares at my palm as if he can still see the bright light. But whereas I was awed by the manifestation of my magic, he looks infuriated.

The lanterns in the tent flicker. Shadows in the corner of the tent creep up the fabric, blocking out the soft glow of sunlight that seeps into the space.

“What”—he steps inside. A smoky tendril flows from his arm and coils around the knots holding the tent flap open. The fabric falls, and my stomach plummets along with it—“did you just do?”

Shit.

Reality hits me.

“P-please.” I hold up shaking hands. “Please, have mercy.”