Page 10 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

The gleam in her eyes is a mix of amusement and warning. She reaches into her dress pocket, withdraws the object she rushed to pull from the fire, and unwraps the cloth.

My feet grind to a halt.

The thin, delicate circlet sitting in the palm of her hand captures my disbelieving stare. Tiny floral engravings adorn the shiny metal.

My heart thrums wildly. “What is that?”

“You know what it is.”

I whip my head from side to side, my loose updo coming undone from the movement. “No. Lev wouldn’t. Not without speaking to me first.”

“Relax.” Ferria closes her palm and tucks the bracelet back into her pocket. “It’s not a betrothal bracelet. At least not according to Lev.”

My gaze snaps back to hers, and I scowl. “Then why would you let me believe it was?”

And what the hells could it be otherwise? A gift?

Ridiculous.

Jewelry is a luxury in our impoverished town. Even as lovers, it wouldn’t make sense for him to gift me such an item.

“Because Lev could be lying to me,” she answers with a shrug. “And I know how you feel about marriage. I want you to be prepared if the conversation ever comes up.”

Ferria is a loyal sister, my best friend in the entire world. Lev had to know she would tell me he commissioned a bracelet from her.

Is that what he wanted?

It must be. He’s too smart to have not thought this through.

“Hey.” Ferria’s voice gentles. “It’s fine. Even if he brings it up, you can always say no.”

I wince. “Yeah, but it’s Lev.”

Our friendship is one of the very few I can count on—one of the only things that makes this colorless life bearable on the worst days. I don’t want things to change, but they undeniably will if Lev decides to give me that bracelet for its intended purpose.

He has to know that.

“Forget I said anything.” Ferria clears her throat.

She’s never been good at consoling someone when they’re upset. That’s my skill.

“What did you bring to sell? Your pack looks light.”

I don’t resist the subject change. “General pain tonics. Sleeping draughts. The usual.”

“Did Juniper give you anything to sell?” she asks, mentioning our adoptive mother.

I smirk and pitch my voice low despite the fact there’s no one around. “A new contraceptive tonic.”

Ferria smiles gleefully. “She did? That mischievous old woman. She likes to test the Elders, doesn’t she?”

“And let me bear the risk while she does,” I mumble.

Though I’m not really that put out by her actions.

Not only do I agree with Juniper’s efforts—women should not be forced to conceive children when they aren’t ready—but I owe Juniper so much for what she’s done for me and Ferria over the years. She saved us from a life spent begging for scraps and sleeping in the overcrowded, rundown southern shacks with the rest of the Kinless.

I can't not help her.