Page 27 of A Thief Among Fae

I’ve heard nothing but terrible things about vows with the fae. The stories say mortals are given their wildest dreams in exchange for a cost that seems mundane in the moment, only for it to later rip everything away from them. Their friends, wealth, status. Nothing is safe.

“I’ll make it a fair vow,” he continues, his voice low and husky. “All I want is assurance that you will not betray my life.”

I pause, trying to find a loophole or a hidden meaning in it. “That’s it?”

“And you must aid me in reaching King Olin’s tomb by the next full moon. You can have everything inside of it, except for the one relic I’m after.”

The lunar cycle began with the full moon on Evie’s birthday, which means the next full moon will be in less than four weeks. This is the first time he’s mentioned a deadline. Is that date what Prince Eldon meant by ‘Until the moon’?

“What are you after?” I gaze up at him and see something dark and sinister storming across his face, a determination to get what he wants at any cost.

A sudden draft stirs the hearth’s flames, spitting crimson sparks into the air. His hazel eyes reflect them like dancing wildfire as he looks down at me. “Another question, foolishly used. That isn’t for you to know.”

Fine, I suppose I don’t need to know every detail. “What happens if I betray you?”

He smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. No, that smile is as warm as winter frost. When he shrugs, a shiver creeps down my spine. This must be the fae guile I’ve been warned about.

“Do you plan to betray me?” he asks.

“No,” I quickly answer. Not when he’s offering me everything I’ve wanted, the wealth I need to support my family. And I doubt I’d walk away from betraying the Prince of Death. No one ever would hear from me again.

“Then you have nothing to be worried about.” His thumb absently rubs the back of my hand. I stiffen, alarmed yet exhilarated by the intimacy of that touch. “What will it be?” he murmurs. “Will you return home and explain to your family why you left them in the middle of the night? Or will you come with me and in four weeks, bring them Olin’s treasure?”

I can’t go home. I don’t know how I’d face them. Especially Evie, when I ignored her screaming my name. “And I have to vow it?”

He nods.

Surprisingly, the terms do sound clear and fair. Everything except for his reluctance to tell me about the relic. My gut still screams Don’t make deals with fae.

I ignore it. “Let’s get it over with.”

His cold smirk vanishes, replaced with a sinister stillness. “Do you swear to bind yourself to me, and me to you, until the terms of this vow are met? You will not betray my life, and you will help me reach the treasure chamber in King Olin’s tomb by the full moon. In exchange, you keep the treasure, except for one item of my choosing.”

A warm, pulsing energy thrums through his hand into mine. It whispers through my body, weakening my knees. Saying yes should be easy; it’s just one little word, but my breath catches in my throat.

“Cynthia,” Desmond murmurs, his voice low and imploring. The callused pads of his fingers are warm compared to the cold bands of his rings. He leans over me, the open collar of his tunic falling open to reveal his chiseled chest.

I try to calm the weightlessness in my stomach. Hearing him say my name like that, his unsettling good looks, and his hand squeezing mine. . . If he were a suitor in Nettlerock, it might be romantic. But he’s a dangerous fae prince, and the last thing on our minds is our hearts. No, this is about our lives.

I steady myself before answering. “Yes. I swear it.”

Now he smirks, but it’s dark and foreboding. “This might hurt.”

Pain sears through my wrist like he pressed a fire poker to my skin. I gasp and try to pull away. He doesn’t let me. Shimmering gold ink blooms on my skin. It curves into a crescent over the veins on the inside of my right wrist. “What is that?” I demand.

“A moon, like your name.” He lets go, and I wrench my hand away.

“No, you ass!” I press our bodies flush, so no one sees when I unsheathe my dagger. I hold it against his spine, underneath his cloak. “What does it—” I pause to reframe my words. “Tell me what it does.”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “It’s a bit of fae magic, a pact that binds your life to mine for the duration of the quest. I wouldn’t push that blade in if I were you.” He extends his left arm, revealing an identical crescent on his wrist.

“Undo it,” I demand.

Desmond tuts. “Even if I could, where would be the fun in that?”

“You didn’t tell me that the price is my death!” I huff, and it shifts my chest against his, so that I feel its steady rise and fall. Our faces are so close, I smell peppermint on his breath. “You’re despicable,” I tell him.

“You’re staring,” he says back.