Page 219 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Merrin glances between the two of us, settling his gaze first on me. “I trust him implicitly. I trained him myself,” he reassures me with a small smile. Turning to the chiefs, he nods at Erik, but his expression is much more serious as he purses his lips, as if trying to decide how to phrase something. With a sigh, he looks to the youngest mage. “Grayson, why don’t you explain what the message said.”

There’s a quiet muttering around the clearing as the chiefs discuss why Merrin wouldn’t want to tell us himself. I even hearRagnar suggest it’s because they are trying to deceive us, but I know the true reason. This message is aimed at me, and the high mage believes it will be best coming from my mate, someone I love and trust. Given the anger and dread emanating from Grayson’s end of the bond, I’m not looking forward to hearing what the king has to say.

Stepping away from the other mages, Grayson closes the gap between us, his eyes locking on my face. He stops a couple of steps away, aware of the elf at my side and the many sets of eyes keenly watching our every move. “The king has formally invited you and your…escorts to attend a ball in Arhaven.”

Whatever I had been expecting from the King of Arhaven, that had not been it. He wants me to attend a ball? My brain tries to make sense of the logic behind not only inviting me back, but as a guest to a ball. I’d been expecting an execution warrant or an order to return to face my ‘crimes,’ but once again, he was dressing me in satin and parading me around. The king, it seems, loves to play his games.

“It’s a trap, it has to be,” Vaeril bites out, a slight growl in his voice, his anger barely contained. He knows what returning to Arhaven would do to me, what the thought of returning isalreadydoing to me. A steadying purr reaches me through the bond, and I know he’s trying to calm me, to stop the fine tremble that has taken over my hands. Trying to even my breathing, I ball my hands into fists and blow out a slow breath. I hadn’t even realised I was shaking, and hopefully, no one else had either.

“That’s what we thought at first,” Ellis interjects, shaking his head. “But that’s not all.”

I hadn’t taken my gaze off Grayson, who is looking resigned now as his eyes flick briefly to Vaeril before settling back onto me. “He wants to ally himself with you.”

Vaeril curses loudly in elvish and starts to turn as if to storm away, but he snarls as if remembering where we are and returnsto my side. The mages watch him warily, Pierre’s hand glowing softly at his side, but none of them make a move to attack him. Reaching out, I take Vaeril’s hand in mine and send him a single thought down the bond. It seems to break through his anger as he turns to look at me, his feline eyes still narrowed, but he jerks his head in agreement. Whatever happens, we do this together.

Knowing I need more answers, I look back up at Grayson, who is watching us with an odd expression.

“Why? I don’t understand why the king would do that.” I know the queen will eventually turn her forces on the humans, but for the time being, we are her target. Which is why it makes no sense for him to become allies with his enemy.

Merrin sighs and speaks up. “He wants protection from the elf queen, and in return, he will lend his forces in the battle,” he answers, looking sympathetically towards me. “You are the better of two evils.”

“We don’t need them,” I reply automatically, fear driving me. My aunt frowns, taking a step towards me, while chief Ragnar cries out in outrage. I haven’t consulted them, I know I should have, but it’s not them the king is playing with. I turn to face my aunt, and I don’t know what she sees in my expression, but she stops in her tracks, her eyes hard as they flick over my face. “I’m not going back there.” My voice cracks with emotion, and I feel Vaeril fighting against his feral fae nature. Tor’s bond is pulsing with concern and frustration, hating that he can’t be here with me and that he’s left out of the conversation.

“Clarissa, there’s more,” Grayson calls softly, and when I look at him, I know whatever he’s going to say next is going to hurt. He doesn’t want to tell me, I can feel his regret. “I only just found out about this before this meeting took place,” he urges in a low voice, needing me to know he hadn’t been keeping this information from me last night.

True fear pulses through me now. What has Grayson so worried that he’s justifying himself to me? My mind plays over all of the terrible things that could have happened, all of the awful things the king might have done or demanded, each one worse than the last. The longer the silence stretches, the more my nausea grows. Glancing at Vaeril with wide eyes, I turn back to the mage, reaching out and taking his hand, unable to wait any longer. “Grayson, what is it?”

“The king is threatening to kill Jacob if you don’t attend.” Although he says it as softly as possible, it still feels like I’ve been hit with a physical blow.

It takes me a few seconds before I can put my thoughts into words, my complex feelings for Jacob, the king, and returning to Arhaven making it difficult. But ultimately, I know I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed anything to happen to Jacob. My gaze has fallen to my goddess mark, which is glowing softly, as if the Mother herself is reassuring she is with me. Lifting my eyes, I look first at Grayson and then to Vaeril. “I can’t let that happen.” My words are a whisper. The journey will be hard for me, but it would be worse for him. I can’t, and won’t, expect him to come with me, not after he was a captive there for over a hundred years, it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask him.

“I know,” he replies, cupping my cheek as he sifts through my emotions down the bond. Taking a deep breath, he drops his hand and tangles it with mine, squeezing it tightly. “When do we leave?”

The lush greenery of the perfectly manicured gardens is peaceful and helps calm me. Each petal, stem, and leaf is immaculate. Not so much as a single blade of grass is out of place as the tall, twisting spires of the magicians’ guild tower above me. It’s exquisite here, but I do miss the magic of the forest. It may not be perfect, but it has its own beauty and rawness that a pruned garden could never possess.

Tor, Vaeril, Eldrin, and Naril follow behind me, giving me the space I need. I know they want to be close, reassuring me with their touch, but right now, I need to clear my head, and being in nature has always helped that. Unfortunately, the magicians’ guild is about as far away from the forest as you can get. Set on the northern cliffs of Morrowmer, the guild is at the opposite end of the continent to the forest I love so much. So in the meantime, this garden is the closest thing.

The last couple of days since the meeting in the forest have been a blur of discussions and travelling. The chiefs, mainly Ragnar, were not happy with the new revelations, but it was decided that we did not need the king’s forces and he wouldbe an unreliable ally. Blackmail was not a good way to start a partnership. The tribes didn’t want me to go, and the elves spoke up and surprised me by voicing their concern for my safety too. However, they understood my need to rescue Jacob and insisted on sending guards with me. The tribes agreed, saying that even if I was rejecting the king’s offer, I had to look like I had my own army behind me. The king has been spreading rumours that I am feral now, that I cavort with the tribesmen and elves.

When I arrived here, I hoped to find Wilson, to wrap my arms around my friend and apologise for leaving him behind. Except he wasn’t at the guild. Merrin explained that all the castle mages were called back, but Wilson never returned. They feared the worst. However, I know my friend. He can’t be dead.

I wanted to travel straight to the castle, but the mages insisted that if I turned up on horseback, I would only be adding to his rumours. Instead, they insisted I travel to the guild and wait for the date to be set.

Something else that had been decided, was that I wouldn’t be disguised as ‘Lady Clarissa.’ The last time I attended a ball in Arhaven, the night I escaped, I was still under Grayson’s protective magic that disguised me to help me blend in. I wonder how everyone will react when I arrive as the goddess’ chosen, with my black hair rather than the golden ringlets I had before. Will anyone even recognise me as the same person? This way, we would travel in coaches with my guards from the elves and tribes, plus a whole unit of magicians to protect us, wearing our finest ball worthy outfits. I hate that we’re having to do it this way, but I admit that walking in with the king’s magicians as my protectors gives me a sick sense of happiness.

The messenger arrived two days ago. The ball would be tonight.

A bird flies overhead, its song bringing a smile to my face as I pause my stroll and look up, watching as it weaves throughthe towers. The gentle sound of footsteps echo through the open courtyard, announcing someone’s approach, but I know who it is from the soft tug in my chest—Grayson. Letting out a soft sigh, I pull my gaze from the spires and look at my mage, feeling trepidation. Not at seeing him, but at what he’s about to tell me.

He greets me with a soft smile, his eyes apologetic. He hates this as much as I do. “Are you ready?”

No,my mind screams, but I can’t say that out loud. Ihaveto be ready, there’s too much at stake.

“Give her more time,” Eldrin snarls, turning on the mage.

I have to bite back my groan. This is not the first time the two of them have fought, and it’s usually started by the surly elf. Grayson, to his credit, has at least been trying to be civil to Vaeril, realising they will both be spending a lot of time together. The mage has even made an effort to speak to my elvish guard who made the journey with us to the guild. However, he and Eldrin just seem to rub each other the wrong way, arguing over everything the other does. I haven’t had much time to spend with Eldrin, thanks to everything that’s happened, and I know he’s struggling, especially being around so many magicians.Maybe I can talk to him before we leave, find someplace where it can be just the two of us, I think to myself, but my thoughts are cut off as a low growl reverberates off the stone walls.

Grayson’s hands ball into fists, but he ignores Eldrin, striding past the elf as he approaches me, stopping only when he reaches my side. “I’m sorry, but if we don’t leave now, we won’t get there in time.”

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