Page 150 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

The ache that follows is acute. Throbbing. Stupid in its intensity.

I wrench my gaze away before the carriage disappears around the bend, telling myself the tightness beneath my ribs is nothing but nervousness. Convincing myself it isn’t jealousy. That I don’t care what Rian does.

But as Leto takes my hand to help me into his carriage, the magic in my veins betrays me.

My power roils and snaps. The dark marks on my forearms mimic the agitated movements.

I settle on the bench facing the front of the carriage and press my quivering lips together as the cruel, simple truth sears into my soul.

I do care what the Shadow Prince does—far too much.

I need to change that. Immediately.

Because there is no denying it… Caring for Rian is a weakness.

And if Thea is right about the mayor’s plans for his daughter, it’s a weakness that will mark me as the enemy of the leaders of Virendrell if it’s discovered.

27

I sit before a morbid spectacle.

The sprawling splendor of Augustus’s country home should inspire awe. Its elegance rivals the pristine perfection of his city palace. Tall windows catch the light of the setting sun, imposing pillars gleam, and manicured grounds burst with trees, hedges, and flowers that roll across the length of the estate.

By any measure, I should be impressed.

Instead, sickness coils tight in my stomach, clenching until it aches, as I’m forced to watch the contest unfolding below. The beauty around me only sharpens the horror.

The polished stone and blooming flowers bear silent witness to something profoundly wrong.

Raised seating hovers over the edge of the expansive hedge maze stretching across the grounds before me. I sit in the first row, wedged between Anders and Leto, surrounded by members of Augustus’s inner circle whose names I’ve already failed to retain.

Behind us, elevated just enough to remind us who holds the power, sit the mayor and his family, along with Rian and Silas.

Rian didn’t even look at me when Leto escorted me to my seat.

Silas had tipped his head when we made eye contact, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t wish for more acknowledgement from the Shadow Fae.

I don’t know where Draven or Darius are. I don’t even know if they were invited.

But I really wish they were here.

Below, another contestant approaches the mouth of the maze.

I think she’s an earth wielder, though I can’t be certain. She didn’t compete in the first round, and during the second, my attention was too muddled by alcohol to catalog faces and abilities the way I should have.

Unlike those of us watching, she wears tight leather trousers and a fitted tunic.

Good.

Loose fabric is a liability, one I’ve already seen punished tonight.

The sun hangs low on the horizon, moments from surrendering the world to night. I lift a silent prayer to the Gods that the light holds until the contest ends.

For the remaining participants’ sake.

Augustus’s voice booms through the still air. “Begin!”

The woman races into the maze.