Page 146 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Anders is smart. No matter what Rian said, I’m sure he’s discovered my true heritage after I revealed my adoptive mother is a Brownie. And that she was in possession of the former Fae queen’s diary.

But if he did, he gave no sign last night.

Anders was polite and accommodating as usual, but his behavior did little to cure my unease.

“The carriages depart within the hour,” Thea replies, her voice high-pitched, frazzled.

“Carriages?”

She tugs me toward the stairs. “Did no one tell you?”

I lift the skirt of my toga. “Tell me what?”

“Dinner will occur at the mayor’s summer estate in the hills tonight," she answers, not even a little out of breath despite the fact that we’re racing up two flights of stairs.

I bet Ferria wouldn’t be winded by stairs, either.

I gently brush aside thoughts of my twin before the heartache can settle.

“Why is dinner there?” And why am I being forced to go?

“For tonight’s contest, of course,” Thea says.

I scowl. “Of course.”

All anyone cares about are these betrothal contests. It’s all they talk about during dinner.

We reach the third-floor landing. Thea waits until we step into the corridor leading to my room before she breaks into a jog, pulling me with her.

I huff a laugh and pick up my pace. “Thea, relax. It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is.” She releases my arm, pushes open my door, and ushers me inside.

The door swings shut. Thea guides me toward the low-backed, ivory chair positioned in front of a looking glass propped on top of a narrow table. Brushes, hairpins, and cosmetics are spaced out neatly on the polished wood.

Thea wastes no time. She picks up a brush and begins running the soft bristles through my loose hair.

My body is tense, but as the soothing rhythm continues, the muscles in my back and shoulders relax.

Rouge and kohl lie on the table next to pink lipstick. The memory of the pale color marring Rian’s strong lips after our passionate kiss makes my stomach flip.

I avert my gaze and focus on the painting of a large ship sailing through a calm, blue sea. Wind fills the massive white sails. The white paint covering the ship glistens.

If I hadn’t seen one of the Virendrellian ships myself, I’d say the painting is unrealistic, but the vessel that found our dinghies had looked just as immaculate as this painting despite weathering the sea.

The mayor’s palace is the same.

Pristine. Almost clinical.

Not even the healing quarters in Verdanthia were so clean, despite my best efforts.

At first, Virendrell’s perfection was awe-inspiring. Now, I don’t know…

It’s like there’s something hidden beneath all the shiny floors and behind the spotless walls.

“How are you enjoying your time in Virendrell?”

My gaze snaps up to Thea’s reflection. Her eyes rest on the hair in her hands, focused. A little too focused.