Page 11 of The Tricksters Deception

Luca comes running toward me with Bella, he’s got an arrow strung up and ready to shoot at Corvu.

“Wait!” Bella yells, grabbing her husband's elbow, “He helped us fight them off.”

“You mean cut them down to size?” One of the twins laughed maniacally. Things were clearly very different here. I didn’t feel right about what I did, but what choice did I have? Corvu was trying to save me and he needed help. And technically, I didn’t kill him, the fall backward did. I’m pretty sure if I was home I’d be done for manslaughter. I feel queasy. Gecko stays by my side.

“Hush you two, why did you help us?” Bella questions. Corvu dusts himself off in a nonchalant manner and points his thumb over his shoulder at me.

“I was helping her.” He states simply.

Luca steps forward to face Corvu head to head. The exchange looked menacing. Recalling what Corvu said, never anger a Clawhop, made me worry. “Your kind usually doesn’t help anyone.” He stares blankly. His kind? It hadn’t occurred to me that Corvu’s status as a Daemonaria might be cause for concern.

“I’m not exactly what you call a normal Trickster.” Trickster? It was something I’d have to make a mental note to ask about later. Luca nods and leans back,

“Well, I owe you for your assistance nonetheless. I’m Luca.” Corvu and the others exchange greetings as everyone gathers to continue moving in the dark, searching for a place to make camp away from the mess we left behind.

I am surprised at the speed in which I learn. After setting up rocks and gathering certain twigs and wood pieces I was able to successfully make a campfire as the others prepared places to sleep or make dinner, even if it did take me an exceedingly long time to spark the rocks onto the wood. The horses were removed from the carriage and given water, then tied to a nearby tree. Gecko helps me by collecting more wood.

“Look, I'm Satyr.” He laughs, putting two sticks to the top of his head to resemble horns. I laugh in response as Corvu approaches, completely ignoring and even bumping into Gecko on the way to sit beside me. “Hey!”

“What?” He snaps, but Gecko just pokes a tongue at him. “Go fly home or something, kid.” But Gecko ignores him and sits on the opposite side of the now healthy fire.

“That wasn’t nice.” I mumble under my breath.

“He’s a Pixie, I’m a Trickster, it’s just how it is.” He shrugs, unstrapping his sword from his waist and placing it beside him. I didn’t know what that meant, and I'm honestly wasn’t sure I want to know. Either way, I open the book he originally gave me and start taking down notes, not that I was asking for any information. I just want to make sure I remember all the little things. “Right, I forgot.” Corvu sighs. I look up and watch his chest rise and fall twice before he continues, “Pixie’s aren’t particularly magical, but they can cast curses and spells on Elven types, but they only do it to Tricksters, likewise Tricksters like messing with Pixie’s because of that fact. It’s just how it’s always been.”

“Just because it’s how it’s always been doesn’t mean you have to be rude to Gecko, he’s been really helpful the past few days.” I strategically avoid showing him what I'm writing, but that information seems insightful and even though I'm unlikely to forget it, I want to keep a record of it. Truthfully I want to ask him what a Trickster even is.

“I guess.” He crosses his arms and leans up against his backpack, putting his hood up to cover his eyes. I can’t help looking toward him and wondering what he was doing here. Looking at his hands closer for the first time I can see he has many scars from cuts, acquired over some time. What did he do? Did he have a dangerous job? Do Daemonaria even have jobs? Do they have mortgages or rent apartments? I haven’t even seen a building tall enough to be called an apartment building. My mind is really spinning in circles.

“Corvu?” I whisper, hoping I hadn’t been thinking for so long he’d already be asleep.

“Yeah?” He responds. I let out a sigh, I hadn’t actually expected him to answer.

Biting my lip I question, “What do you think I shouldn't have the amulet? Patricia said people will try and trick me so they can get it and use its powers. Do you just want to use its power too? How did you even know where to find me?” As I ask the questions I touch the front of my shirt. Through the tunic, I can feel the amulet sitting there, cold against my skin, almost crisp to the touch. He unfolds his arm and throws back his hood, leaning up to meet my eyes. His deep brown ones staring back at me.

“Because you're human, and in a world like this, humans are weak, vulnerable. Yes, every being on this planet has a reason for wanting that amulet, who knows what powers it has. You can't trust anyone, even I have a reason to want it. But Patricia also told you a wizard could help get you home – there's no better place to find one than in Wanbourne so I just followed the path.” I couldn’t help but believe what he said, though I was worried it was just a ruse. “You know, the night I set you up at the tavern I went back downstairs to ask a couple of others hanging around what they knew about a witch’s amulet. Most of it was nonsense of course but a lot said that they’d pay good money to get their hands on it, even though they didn’t really know what it did. So do yourself a favor and don’t let anyone tempt you into giving it to them, okay? Oh, and try not to run off again, it's really hard to guard someone when you don't know where they are.” The sincerity in his voice did well to convince me that he wasn’t trying to take the amulet. I had no actual reason to distrust him. Is it possible I judged too quickly?

“Okay.” I nod, giving him a half-smile. Curling on the floor with the satchel as my pillow, I do my best to sleep.

I feel a muscular arm wrap around me, drawing me in closer. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is; even though I am still unsure whether I trust him fully, a sense of security washes over me, along with an intense, tingling sensation that originates from my thighs.

It's a sensation I sense could become familiar.

I resist the inclination to turn around and indulge in the desires that the deepest, most instinctive part of my mind craves—longings I'm hesitant to confess. I yearn to explore him with my touch, tracing the contours of his exposed chest, venturing toward the core of his desire. I wonder about the tactile experience of his presence against my bare form—his arousal teasing that particular point on my body that hungers for him most, all while our lips fervently intertwine.

The subtle crackling of the fire echoes in the tranquil silence enveloping us, amplifying the resonance of my contemplations. It's almost as if he possesses an intuition attuned to my thoughts, for he subtly shifts closer, and I sense the firmness of his arousal pressing against me. His breath, a delicate caress on the side of my neck, induces a shiver throughout my body.

I'm certain he perceives my response, as his grasp becomes more possessive around me.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against my neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses on my skin, an act that threatens to unravel my composure. “We’re alone. No one’s here.”

“Corvu…” I exhale, arching my back against him.

“Hm?” he whispers against my neck, gradually tracing upward to my jaw. His hand glides up my body, delicately undoing the fastenings of my shirt. His fingertips explore beneath the fabric, a tender touch that teases and stirs the heat within me. I feel as though I'm on the brink of losing my composure, consumed by the longing for him.

“Corvu, please…” I implore. I desire to guide his touch in a different direction, toward the core of my yearning.

In the next moment, he disentangles himself from our proximity. Instead, he hovers over me, gently shaking my arm to rouse me from my reverie.

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