Page 76 of Ruin of Revenants

He paused. “We are not alone. But I will make good on my word, Prince of Curses. I will continue to seek information about this necromancer. We will speak again.”

For a moment, I could have sworn the god’s shadows turned toward me, those unseen eyes piercing into my soul, maybe even reading my thoughts. My skin went cold despite the humid air. And then the shadows slithered away, creeping through the trees until they vanished into the darkness.

Swallowing, I backed up, hurrying back to our tent and slipping back into my bedroll before Archer discovered I’d eavesdropped. I should have confronted him, demanded to know more about his bargains with the god of death.

But somehow, I couldn’t find it in me to do that. Not when I pondered the fact that the curse Archer bore daily was all for the love of his people. The people his father had callously left to suffer and die.

Meanwhile, Archer was willing to face the god of death for them. To suffer for them and sneak away, defying the king, to fight with them just to give them a glimpse of hope. Just because he couldn’t abandon them, even if everything looked hopeless.

I understood his desperation. I admired it. I ached for him.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I hurriedly dashed it away and lay down, closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep so Archer didn’t suspect anything when he returned.

How could I confront Archer about this when it would force me to examine this feeling deeper? This was my enemy I was thinking about, hurting for.

As I listened to Archer’s returning footsteps, the gravity of the situation settled over me. He’d been communing with a god. One who’d promised him information about the necromancer and was relishing in his torment. One who’d almost killed us both tonight.

It sounded like Archer was in over his head—and by extension, so was I.

Isoria

“Are you sure we can’t gouge out his eyes?” Bren asked, swiping a branch out of his way as we trekked through the jungle. We were now close enough to Everhaven that we had chosen to finish the journey on foot.

I shot him a glare. “Absolutely not. I like being able to see.”

“I do too,” Archer offered from where he walked beside me. “Not that you require my input. Or even wish to converse as if I’m present.” He smirked sardonically.

Ignoring him, I turned to Bren. “Trust me, it’s not a problem.” Pausing, I pulled out the vial and handkerchief I’d found in Archer’s belongings and stuffed into my pack before we’d left. “First, you’re going to take this potion to disguise yourself.”

Archer had had Orchid pack it, a concoction he called Golden Disguise. I’d almost laughed. Its shade was gold and the name so literal, I took it that Plumeria wasn’t exactly poetic with her potion names. Before we’d left, as Bren took the lead exiting the tunnels, Archer had walked behind with me and explained that Briar often used Golden Disguise when she wanted to change the color of her hair or eyes or adjust her features more dramatically than what Siren’s Allure could accomplish. If someone willed it, they could focus on another fae’s appearance when they consumed the potion and take on their looks. But otherwise, Golden Disguise simply altered them a little when they drank it. She kept a small supply in her rooms, and I had the sense this wasn’t the first time Archer had helped himself to it.

Now, Bren raised his eyebrows, shooting me a curious glance. “Wait, we aren’t going to march him in there with a recognizable face?”

I heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Do you want me to be killed?”

He shook his head emphatically. “I wish he could get a taste of what he dishes out, hunting our kind down,” he spat.

“And I’d suffer by extension.”

“We wouldn’t physically hurt him,” Bren cut in.

I sucked in a breath. I hadn’t told Bren the most intimate, disarming part of this bond. “I can feel his emotions too.”

My brother’s eyes widened, his lips a flat line. “Solea’s fire, that’s—”

“Unfortunate? I know.”

Archer smirked as he tipped the vial up, pretending to make a toast. “Cheers.” He gulped it down like it really was a glass of wine.

“Bren, I need your help holding him while we blindfold and tie his arms.”

“I’m not a prisoner,” Archer interjected quickly, holding up his hands. “I don’t need to be restrained. I swear on my kingdom, I won’t remove the blindfold, and I won’t resist when you put it on.”

Bren took a step nearer, all too happy to participate in restraining Archer, but I shook my head. “I’ve got this.”

My stomach swooped when I stepped nearer, closing the distance between the prince and me to settle the kerchief over his eyes. In the sunlight filtering through the leaves, his eyes—not yet changed by the potion—were piercingly bright. I hadn’t noticed before that the green of his irises were rimmed in grey, like a ring of silver.

As I lifted the kerchief, a parrot flitted from one branch to another above us, dislodging a leaf and startling my gaze upward. It fluttered down, catching in my hair. With a crooked smile, Archer picked it out of the strands, his fingers so gentle my chest ached. I blinked. His eyes scanned my face before he pulled back, settling his hand at his side.