Page 48 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“Vaeril.” My voice is croaky, and every second I keep my head raised causes a wave of pain to shoot through my body, but fear and adrenaline makes me stronger. I don’t want to look too closely at the reason behind that fear, why warning the elf is more important than saving myself some pain. His eyes dart to mine as I shake my head, the pull, that link between us going tight.

Just as I think it’s all over, a wave of magic engulfs me, and I recognise the feel of the magic immediately before he even speaks. Grayson.

“Stop.” That one word, woven with magic, makes everyone freeze as he strides over to me. He’s behind me, so I can’t see him, but I canfeelhim. His magic is coated with anger as he gets closer and closer until it’s embracing me like a safety blanket. “Let go of her.” His voice is eerily calm, but infused with his powerful magic.

The guards immediately follow the order, stepping to the side as I drop to the ground. Except I don’t fall far, a cushion of magic catching me before gently lowering me down. Grayson steps around the guards, his face a careful mask as he sees the state of my face, but I can feel the fury rolling off him. I need to calm him down, otherwise he’s going to kill everyone in this room, I can tell from the look in his eyes, or perhaps it’s this strange bond we have between us? I know I shouldn’t care if the guards live or die, but I can’t have their deaths on my conscience. Surprisingly, I’m more concerned about the elf, Vaeril, but I refuse to face the reasons behind that, pushing those feelings down.

“Grayson,” I call, having to spit out a mouthful of blood before rattling, racking coughs overcome me, my ribs painfully shifting in my chest. He watches me and I shake my head, hoping he understands what I’m trying to say.

Don’t kill them. Don’t let them turn you into that person, you are better than this.I repeat the words in my head over and over like a mantra, hoping it will come across in my silent communication. His expression is blank, and I worry he’s going to go intoeuisa,the strange battle calm I triggered previously, but he just seems to be wearing a different mask today—the mask of a vengeful high mage.

Turning away from me, he faces the head guard who suddenly clutches and claws at his neck, his face turning a shade of purple as he gasps for breath. The other guards shift, as if they want to do something, but the magic is still wrapped around them, filling the room so much it feels like I’m trying to move through treacle.

“Grayson,” I call again, pushing up slightly into an upright position, but I can’t hide the wince as my abused body protests against the movement. I think he’s going to ignore me, to carry on and kill the guard, but I feel a flex in his magic and the guard drops to his knees, spluttering and coughing as he takes big, shuddering breaths.

“Return to your jobs. This isn’t the end of this,” Grayson commands, his magic wrapping around the guards who turn and leave, throwing scared, confused looks over their shoulders. The lead guard hurries to his feet and practically runs from the room, his face still red as he departs, fear easy to see in his eyes.

Grayson turns to the elf, his magic returning to him in a flash, and I can almost see it rippling and churning around him, reacting to his hatred and anger.

“If you’ve even laid a hand on her—”

Vaeril bares his teeth, falling into a defensive stance. Standing like that, with his hair falling forward, revealing his delicately pointed ears and the forge glowing behind him, he looks completely fae. For some reason that doesn’t scare me. It would have two weeks ago, but instead all I fear is that they’ll get hurt.

“I didn’t touch the girl,Mage. Her own people did this to her,” Vaeril spits, and I can hear the groaning of the chains around his ankles again. I’m not the only one, as Grayson’s eyes narrow and he takes up a defensive stance.

“Grayson, please.” My pain laced voice seems to break through to him, his magic relaxing and flowing back into his body. “I just want to go.”

Turning, he kneels in front of me, making sure to keep Vaeril within his sight as he gently slides an arm under my knees, and with a hand around my shoulders, he lifts and cradles me against his chest. Without another word to the elf, we turn and he walks from the room. Raising my head, I peek over his shoulder and see Vaeril is still watching us, his posture rigid, a heavy crease between his brows.

“Thank you,” I mouth, hoping he can see with his enhanced fae vision. When he stumbles back with a shocked expression, I’m assuming he saw. Is he that surprised I would thank him? We may be mortal enemies, but he risked death when he stood up for me. He may hate me and my kind, but he did the right thing, and I won’t forget that.

Resting against Grayson, we exit the room in silence, and I start to worry. He’s mad, more so than I’ve ever seen him, and I don’t know what he might do later once he’s assured I’m safe. He hurries up the stairs and I wince as I’m jostled against his body, but I try to hide it by burying my face into his chest.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, slowing his climb. I can tell he wants to say something, so I don’t reply, simply letting him work through whatever is upsetting him. “You lied to me.”

Raising my face, I frown up at him. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“You didn’t tell me you were working with anelf. Omission of something that important is just as bad as lying.”

I don’t bother to explain I was trying to protect him by not telling him, or the fact I’d been threatened if I said anything. He’s upset and that’s because of me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, which is true. I am sorry I hurt him. However, I’m not sorry I kept this from him, I still believe I did the right thing. He blows out a long, frustrated breath and I feel him relax slightly, although I can tell there’s something else still bothering him.

“Grayson, I’m okay.” My statement would have made more of an impact if I hadn’t gasped with pain as his arms shift to open the door at the top of the stairs. Frowning, he shakes his head, a dark mood settling over him as he hurries back to his quarters.

“I’ll do everything I can to get you out of this.”

Grayson lived up to his word and spent the next couple of days working to try and get me released from the arrangement with the priests. This meant I didn’t get to see much of him, which upset me more than I had anticipated. Sure, Wilson spent a lot of time with me to keep me company, and he even took Aileen and I for a walk around the palace grounds. It was great to get out of the castle and have some fresh air, I especially loved seeing the two of them bicker and joke around. I like Aileen. Her fiery temper and sense of humour have me chuckling when I’m feeling anxious.

Whatever Grayson has been doing to stop me from having to work for the priests hasn’t worked,butit has helped. When I returned the next day, the guards didn’t touch me, simply kept a wary eye on both the elf and me. Vaeril barely spoke to me other than a curt question asking if the mage had healed me, but I could feel his eyes watching me as I cleaned. I didn’t work as long, Grayson collected me after only a handful of hours and dropped me off in his rooms before he disappeared once again.

I don’t know how long this will last as I’ve seen Priest Rodrick glaring at me from the staircase, and I know he’s plotting ways to make me suffer. However, I make the most of this brief moment of respite.

“You won’t be working for the priests today,” Grayson informs me as we eat breakfast, and I don’t miss the disgusted way he says “priest.” The fact that he hasn’t been able to break the arrangement with them is a major source of frustration to him, and I can see it’s beginning to take its toll. His face is lined with tension, and he looks exhausted all the time. His hair is a mess this morning from where he’s been running his hands through it.

“Oh?” Raising my gaze from my porridge, I watch him from across the table, getting caught up in his expression. He’s looking down at a report, his brow creasing with a frown, and I find I want to run my fingers through his hair, feel the silky strands as I brush it back into position. Scowling at the rogue thought, I shake my head slightly and sit up, trying to pay attention to what he’s telling me.

“Prince Jacob has requested your company,” he announces wryly, but there’s a hint of bitterness in his voice. I assumed I would be Lady Clarissa today as I woke with the familiar feeling of magic clinging to me, and when I looked in the mirror, blonde hair greeted me before Jayne had dressed me in one of my finer gowns. Finally looking up at me, he meets my eyes before flicking them away. He’s been doing that a lot recently, as if it hurts to look at me, and although I try to hide it, it distresses me when it happens.

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