Page 148 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

I don’t beg for mercy. My pleas would only invigorate a man like Fief. When I crack my eyelids to track his movement and see the bulge in front of his pants, I want to vomit.

He’s a sick, twisted man. How could Lev leave me with him? I’ll never forgive him.

What about Ferria? Surely my sister will notice I’m missing.

Then again…she’s busy with the forge. And I haven’t had the chance to tell her the Fae are leaving.

If she notices my absence, she could think I’m in the forest treating Darius. And Juniper rarely leaves her cottage.

No one will care to find me.

I’m on my own.

Hopelessness tries to take root in the back of my mind, festering alongside the horrific pain wreaking havoc in my body.

Fief bends down and grabs my hand. I don’t have time to process what’s happening before⁠—

Snap.

A scream tears from my throat, and my misshapen finger burns with agony.

But it seems, finally, one of the Gods has decided to take pity on me.

My vision narrows into pinpricks of dim light. Then there’s only black.

“Light magic reigns supreme. It chases away the dark, ensnares shadows in its bright rays. Ailments of the mind and body fade into nothing in its presence.”

Pristine, thick parchment flips. The pages of the Fae text flutter from the touch of invisible hands until it lands on a page adorned with the same selmary rose embroidered in Darius’s tent.

“The most notable menders all derive their gifts from The Mother’s divine blessing, basking in the warmth of her illumination, sharing the bounty of her love with the rest of the world through the manifestations of⁠—”

“Wake up, girl!”

The shouted words yank me out of the dream of reading the Fae text. I hover on the brink of consciousness, all too aware of the pain lingering throughout my body, debating if I should just fall back into the dream rather than⁠—

A splash of moisture hits me in the face, ripping the choice from my hands.

I cough and sputter, my eyes fluttering open, blinking rapidly as my vision readjusts to the dark cell.

“Thank The Mother,” a stranger’s voice sighs. “I was beginning to think you were dead.”

I take a breath and nearly weep with relief when the sharpest pains from Fief’s assault have dulled to a faint thrum of discomfort.

My magic nestles against my skin like a kitten cuddled against my side, still weakened from whatever powder my abductor threw in my face, but strong enough to have alleviated the worst of my injuries. The powder’s effects are dulling.

Thank you.

The magic swirls in a slow, gentle circle.

“Please tell me you can hear me, and I’m not imagining you.”

My eyes dart to the other side of the cell and widen. The human rebel sits upright, leaning against the wall where his chains anchor him in place. The light from the hall falls over the side of his face, revealing the whites of his eyes as he watches me.

“Can you hear me?” he asks.

I lick my dry lips, wincing when I touch the cut splitting my skin. “Yes.”

His shoulders lower with another heavy sigh. “Blessings to The Mother.”