Page 25 of Prince of Darkness and Deceit

The tan Fae’s eyes dip down my body, his nostrils flaring as he takes in my shin. “Can you walk?”

“Yes,” I lie between clenched teeth.

His eyes narrow when they meet mine. Then he turns around and disappears into a thicket of bushes. Draven follows. Jaxon remains where he is and holds out an arm. I rear back.

“Come on,” he says. “I know you’ll need help.”

I debate disagreeing, but the truth will become apparent the moment I take a step.

With a huff, I wrap my hand around his forearm. The shadowy ropes flicker around my arm, but they don’t tug as I gingerly hobble after the terrifying Fae.

Jaxon holds back a section of bush and guides me forward. I brace for twigs and leaves to slap my face, but a brush of cool air hits my cheeks instead.

I stare, slack-jawed, at the clearing in front of me.

Grass cushions my feet. Stars twinkle brightly through the open canopy. Trees pack the perimeter. And a dozen tents are spread throughout the clearing, with several stone firepits illuminating the night.

My heartbeat races when I take in the dozens of Fae soldiers staring back at me. Their expressions are blank, their eyes empty. Charcoal-gray chest plates hug their massive torsos. Matching vambraces adorn their arms, glinting under the firelight. The details of the designs embossed in the armor are too far away to see.

I gulp.

One Fae can destroy Verdanthia. This many can decimate the entire southern region.

“This way,” the tan Fae calls.

The shadows, once again, tug at my arms.

Jaxon stays at my side, carrying more of my weight than I’m proud to admit, and helps me to the center of the encampment. We approach the largest tent made of rich blue fabric that stands in contrast to the others’ murky brown and taupe colors.

An aromatic, spicy scent fills my nostrils the moment I duck inside. Three lanterns hang from wood posts, illuminating the heavy wood desk littered with papers and a thick, ornate carpet laid over the ground.

My forehead creases.

Who travels with these accommodations? It screams wealth.

My jaw tightens as I take in the finery, silently cursing the Fae who steal human riches and leave us scraping by for every necessity.

But the negative emotions are forgotten the moment my gaze lands on the oversized cot tucked along the side of the tent, more than twice the width of my own. More specifically, the sleeping man on top.

Without looking to the Fae for permission, I hobble across the tent and lean over the man.

Tapered ears reveal I’m wrong. He’s not a man.

The Fae in front of me shares the same features as the ones hovering behind me. Dark hair. Flawless skin. Sharp jawline. Masculine beauty that screams unnatural. But then I note the gray hue of his flesh. His shallow breaths.

He’s sick.

Magic warms my palms.

“Is this my patient?” I fist my hands and whirl around, choking down my fearful cry when I find the olive-skinned Fae standing less than a foot away.

My pulse flutters when his eyes zero in on my fists before rising to hold my gaze. He dips his chin.

I step back, wincing when I shift onto my injured leg, but thankful that my power has already diminished the pain enough for me to bear weight. “What’s wrong with him?”

Shadows swirl. “That’s what you’re here to find out.”

I frown and turn back to assess the male. “He wasn’t injured?”