Page 20 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

And whatever lies ahead, whatever voyage the Fae plan to take me on, feels vast and terrible.

Like the start of something unstoppable—something that further unravels my understanding of the world I live in.

Something I’m not confident I’m ready to face.

5

The sickly scent of sweat and spice assaults my nostrils while we move through Port City, aggravating my already churning stomach.

My lips part, and I inhale through my mouth to suppress the nausea as my mind betrays me, throwing my memories to Verdanthia—to the coastline where men and boys hack at the cliffs, choking on dust, their skin gray with astlerium residue.

I exhale and push the heart-wrenching injustice to the back of my mind. I can’t let guilt overwhelm me. There’s nothing I can do for those men.

Not while I’m beholden to the Fae.

Clouds block out the sun’s harsh rays. A breeze rolls in from the ocean, cool and briny, ruffling the strands of hair that have escaped my braid as I take in the beauty surrounding me.

Bronze door handles gleam on every shopfront. Clear glass panes catch light and scatter it across cobblestone. Dozens of voices mingle in the air, foreign tongues with strange lilts and rhythms. I can’t name half the accents. It’s dizzying: the energy, the noise, the color.

Even with their glamour, the Fae draw eyes.

How could they not?

Jaxon and Darius tower over nearly everyone, their shoulders broad, their movements too fluid, too graceful to be human. Even muted, they radiate a dangerous sort of beauty.

A trio of women stand beneath a wood archway, their flowing skirts catching the breeze. They giggle behind jeweled hands as they eye my companions. But when their attention slides to me, curiosity sours into judgment.

I look away, heat pricking my neck. My hair’s a tangled braid at best, and my dress is rumpled from sleep. Even cleaned up, I look like a traveler who’s been dragged through the forest.

I look…wrong beside the Fae.

No wonder they stare.

Laughter bursts from a nearby building, rough and raucous. Half-dressed women stand in the doorway and lean out of windows. Their tanned, toned stomachs are slick with sweat. Jewels dangle from their throats and wrists. Cosmetics paint their faces. Their thick, luxurious hair shines. They are the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.

“Mother save me,” Jaxon murmurs, his admiring eyes roving over the women.

“I’m afraid there’s no time for that.” Darius chuckles, slapping his friend’s shoulder. “Come. I see a tavern up ahead.”

With my arm still wrapped around his, Jaxon leads me down a sloping street and through the small crowd gathered outside the pleasure house.

Ahead, a weathered sign swings above a timber building. Old Port Tavern. The paint is chipped, but the door looks sturdy, and the windows are clean.

The scent of ale hits me before we even reach the entrance, and something inside my chest twists.

Odden’s Tavern.

Memories flash, filled with laughter, drink, and the warmth of firelight reflecting off my friends’ faces. Lev’s voice teasing me. Ferria grinning and swaying to the music.

My heart cracks.

Darius ducks inside first, vanishing into the noise. I stop at the threshold, my feet refusing to move.

“Elara?” Jaxon turns, his expression softening. “Are you all right?”

No.

“I’m fine.” My voice is thin, unconvincing. “I just… I don’t want to go inside.”