Page 195 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

Ferria and I stare, frozen, as the darkness hauls the prince up by the front of his tunic.

“We will speak again soon, sweet Elara,” he calls, laughter spilling out as the shadow drags him toward the tent flap.

A pulse of black radiates outward, then Darius is shoved out of the tent, his amusement still echoing in my ears while my uneasy stomach relaxes with his departure.

“Excuse me,” Anton huffs.

Without so much as a glance at us, he strides out after his prince.

Ferria and I remain staring at the parted fabric long after the shadow swallows them both.

Finally, Ferria mutters, “What just happened?”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. “No idea. But did he really call me…”

The word lodges like a thorn. Too ludicrous to say aloud.

“Yeah…he did.” A haunted flicker crosses her face as she looks at me, wary. “Is it true?”

My eyes widen. “How am I supposed to know?”

She shrugs. “You’ve been reading that Fae book. I thought maybe you read something about…that.”

“I don’t know anything about mates,” I snap, tugging the blanket tighter around my waist like armor.

“Oh.”

I bristle at the disappointed note in her voice and change the subject. “So…Anton is Fae.”

She exhales hard, frustration leaking into the sound. “Apparently so.”

“Did you have any idea?”

“None.” Her mouth hardens. “And I don’t know if I’m more furious at him for deceiving me…or at myself for being too blind to see it.”

Ferria and Anton worked side by side, hours on end, for years. He was her apprentice, but she considered him a friend. And after that dance at the Late King’s Festival…who knows? It could’ve been more.

But not now.

“Have you spoken to him about it?” I ask gently.

“No. And I don’t want to.” Her frown deepens as her eyes sweep over me. “I’m more concerned with what happened to you.”

My smile is brittle. “Which part?”

“Did Lev really lock you in a cell?”

Unease prickles hot down my spine.

I trace the blanket’s threads. “I don’t know if he was the one who put me there. But he didn’t free me, either.”

Her nostrils flare. “That bastard.”

“Yeah.” I snort, though it comes out shaky. “That’s what I said, too.”

She squeezes my hand, eyes shining with guilt. “I should have been there. I should have tried⁠—”

“No.” My gaze snaps up, and I grip her hand. “Anton was right to get you out. If you’d stayed, they’d have locked you up too.”