Page 210 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

“Silas.”

He huffs. “Of course.”

We reach a servants’ stairwell. Rian ushers me inside and releases my hand, motioning for me to walk up in front of him.

I do as he wants. “How do you know it’s the Sea Fae attacking?”

Fae have enhanced senses, but surely his sight doesn’t extend all the way to the coast of Virendrell.

Rian nudges my back. “Jaxon and I have exchanged messages. He told me the Sea Fae found our ship.”

I let him coax me forward. “So?”

We reach the third-floor landing. Rian moves ahead and then turns too fast.

My soles slip in the slick sandals as I try to follow.

Rian spins back around as I right myself, then sweeps me up in his arms without a word.

I gasp and wrap my arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“We need to hurry.” He races down the corridor toward our rooms.

“Why?”

“I assume the Sea Fae figured out I’m here,” he replies, not sounding winded at all, “and they aren’t happy about it.”

My gut twists. “Why not?”

Rian stops in front of my room and kicks in the door with his booted heel. Wood splinters, and the door crashes against the wall.

“What are you⁠—”

“Gather your things.” Rian sets me on my feet, then stomps over to my bed. “We don’t have much time.”

My lips part as he bends and pulls out the Fae tome and diary from where I hid them under the mattress.

“How did you⁠—”

“Elara.” Rian meets my frantic gaze with a steady one of his own. “I know that beautiful head is brimming with questions, but please believe me when I say we do not have time for this.”

I snap my mouth closed so hard my teeth clack.

My stomach knots as agitated shadows ripple off Rian’s shoulders.

“Okay.” I spin in a circle and spot my satchel hanging over the back of the vanity chair.

I run over to grab it.

When I turn, Rian is there, shoving the books inside the satchel. Then he pivots and moves to the closet. I rush after him, eager to help, but he moves faster.

He retrieves a leather sack tucked in the back of the closet then brushes past me in a blur of shadow to walk to the chest of drawers near the bed.

He slides one drawer open, and shadows begin shoving clothes inside the sack.

I bite my tongue to refrain from asking one of the dozens of questions burning a hole in my mind. The Shadow Prince races around the room, shoving shoes and toiletries into the now-bulging bag.

When he finally straightens and turns to face me, black encompasses his irises. There’s no sign of silver or blue.