Page 122 of The Sins of Silas

“Bloody amazing,” Dani admired. “Don't wear yourself out too much.”

“Why didn't you teach her of this before?” Silas questioned further. “This could change everything.”

Dani scratched the back of her head. “Honestly? I assumed she'd know she could do that already.” She posed with a grace face. “Aren't you guys grateful you got me?”

I smiled. To my surprise, Silas laughed through his nose. “I never thought the day would come that I'd be grateful for a Warlock. Or a Mage, for that matter.” He sucked in his lips, then swallowed. “Thank you—all of you. Thank you for joining me in doing this.”

Seeing a sliver of vulnerability from the Prince made my face fall. Seeing his humility…his charm. That was Quill who spoke just now.

Despite the tattoos and scars, despite the anger and resentment, that sweet prince who I had seen addressing his kingdom all those years ago was still in there.

My friends also seemed astonished by his comment. Era smiled to herself from her spot in front of him on their horse.

Perhaps he showed her that side of him…perhaps she was the only one who knew Quill now.

My heart lurched in my chest, and I glanced down, rubbing my hands together to attempt to warm them. My ice was pleading to be released.

Viola goggled at him, then shifted back into herself. “Thank you, Prince, for giving our people a chance. We are grateful for you, too.” Her smile grew. “I never thought that day would EVER come.”

Another laugh, and Silas smiled softly at her. When his gaze drifted to me, his happy expression faded away.

I gave him my best attempt at a smile, but the sadness overwhelmed me…seeing his arms around Era's waist.

“Alright, gang,” Edmund chirped, though his hands shook slightly. “Let's do this.”

As we strodeup to Faltrun, arriving that afternoon, my nerves increased. The odds of having such a pleasant experience as we did in Forsmont were highly unlikely.

“Give us all the info, boss man,” Roland had said to Silas a couple of hours prior.

So, he did. The leader of Faltrun was a man named Dimitri Cortev, son of Elvero Cortev, their previous King. While the Cortevs have kept their independence, Silas insisted their leadership was nothing like Forsmont's.

“Even when I met Leroy in the past, I knew he was a just leader. I had respect for him.” Silas's face hardened. “But Dimitri…something has always rubbed me the wrong way about him.”

“He's a drunk, we know that much,” Hendry commented, mismatched eyes constricting in disgust. “Perhaps we can use his inebriation to our advantage.”

“Or he'll be less likely to listen to reason,” Merrick interjected. “I imagine this could go either way.”

“Dimitri craves power. He just doesn't have the means to achieve it like my father does.”

“Partnering with a mini-Ulric…seems like a great idea,” I mumbled.

Silas slid his gaze to mine. “Better with us than with each other, wouldn't you agree?”

I swallowed, the heat of his gaze too much for me. I nodded and focused back on the road.

Now, we were striding up the gates in Faltrun. Silas greeted them just as he had in Forsmont, the guards here, in their colors of gold and green, studying us warily. We were granted entry, being closely watched and followed as we were led to the castle.

As I focused on the people who roamed the streets of this immense kingdom, I couldn't help but notice how different the energy was here. Like Otacia, this place was split by class. The beggars on the side of the road held up tin cups, pleading for some spare bronze. Drunks were sleeping on the roads, and bards were performing on various corners. I attempted to listen to their poetic words, but my nerves were so high-strung that I could only focus on the clacking of our horse's hoofs as they walked us forward on the broken roads.

Dani was flying around us—I could hear the incessant buzzing. She fit right in here; the filth from the lower class had multiple flies surrounding this area.

How could the King here allow his people to live this way? In Otacia, there was poverty, yes. There were areas worse off in the Outer Ring. But never was it likethis.

The horrid areas didn't last forever, fortunately. As we found ourselves closer and closer to the enormous brick castle, beggars turned to shoppers. Filth turned to well-kept roads. Weary faces turned to large smiles, though those smiles lacked the genuine spark that those in Forsmont wore.

I didn't like it here.

My eyes found a sign crafted out of driftwood, a business calledThe Artist's Guild.

---