Page 92 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

Emotion tightens my chest. “That’s my hope, too.”

It’s true. Day after day, watching Darius lie there, trapped in his own mind, forced to endure whatever nightmare—or dream—his subconscious drags him through. It’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Fae or not.

“I believe you.” He rolls back his shoulders.

Shadows recede from the tent, rolling down the fabric, across the floor, and seeping into his skin.

Gods, that’s unnerving…

Rian pushes through the tent flap and steps into the clearing without another word.

I hurry to follow after him, blinking against the brightness assaulting my eyes. In the distance, Ferria and Jaxon spar. She must’ve grown bored waiting for me. Before I can take a step in their direction, something thuds against the packed earth near my feet.

I jump back.

Draven saunters past without a backward glance. “Those are for you.”

I blink at the polished leather. “Boots?”

“I assume you know they go on your feet,” he calls over his shoulder.

I scoop them up and rush after him. “Why would you give me boots?”

“I’m tired of wasting my time, watching you struggle to keep your feet when we spar. With any luck, boots will help. Though I’m not holding my breath.” There’s an edge to his tone that’s meant to be belittling, but it can’t overshadow the thoughtfulness of this gesture.

My gaze flicks to Rian, spotting his broad back just before he ducks into his dark tent.

I frown. Well, that was abrupt.

Shaking off the rudeness of his departure, I crouch, slip off my flimsy flats, and pull on the boots.

A perfect fit.

I smile.

Boots are a rare commodity in Verdanthia, given to soldiers and miners and others whose occupation warrants them. A healer who treks across town several times a day doesn’t count.

“Elara.”

I look up. Ferria and Jaxon have stopped sparring. The latter speaks with Draven, their postures tense.

“Let’s go,” she calls.

“Coming!”

I tie the boots’ laces and stand, assessing the fit as I walk. My grin grows. They’re comfortable, as if they’ve already been broken in, but they look brand new.

Draven stomps away, and Jaxon and Ferria move toward the tree line. I pick up my pace, the damp earth barely muffling my heavy bootsteps. That’ll take getting used to.

“Nice boots,” Ferria quips as we step onto the paved path leading back to town.

Jaxon dropped us off on the western side this time, making our trek home just a little longer.

“Thanks.” I admire the pristine leather with a grin. “Think the Elders will try to confiscate them?”

“They can try, but something tells me the Fae who gifted them to you will have something to say about that.”

Good point.