Page 28 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

“What’s this? A party?” Jaxon’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “I must have missed my invitation.”

Erling’s men stiffen as Jaxon and Darius appear, shadows already swirling in their eyes. There’s no hint of intoxication in either of the males’ stony, fierce expressions.

“Ah, another one of your pets.” Erling smirks at Jaxon. “Tell me, Ashfall, is using your incredible gifts for the prince’s every whim as fulfilling as your dear, departed mother would have hoped?”

“I don’t know.” Jaxon’s smile turns cold. “Would you like to ask her yourself?”

Erling’s laughter rings out. “Ah, Jaxon. What a shame it is that you didn’t decide to seek sanctuary among our people.”

“A blessing, really. Considering how you barbarians treat those who are different from you.”

“Those are baseless accusations,” Erling snarls.

A pulse of invisible power pushes against my skin.

“Careful, Erling,” Rian warns. “You are outnumbered.”

Erling’s blue eyes sweep over the four Shadow Fae, and the flash of irritation is impossible to miss.

The gray fur covering his shoulders shifts, and the tension releases from his body as he lifts his chin. “Very well. It seems our conversation should come to an end.”

“Indeed,” Rian drawls.

Erling smirks. His eyes find mine, and again, I’m hit with the strangest feeling that I’ve seen him before.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Lady Elara.”

The magic in my chest bristles at the declaration. I press my lips together, not saying a word.

Erling and his guards pivot on the heels of their fur-lined boots and stride away. Their heads bob over the much shorter crowd, their attire and massive size catching the attention of more than one passerby.

It isn’t until they turn the corner, closer to the harbor, that Rian speaks. “Let’s go.”

The Fae move as one. Each step in sync. Each arm swings in time. I am somehow placed between Jaxon and Darius. Draven and Rian follow behind us.

I ignore Rian’s shadows playing at the hem of my dress, brushing the dusty tops of my boots. And I don’t acknowledge the heat of his stare that I swear I feel at my back and cinched waist.

Unlike Erling’s entourage, ours doesn’t attract any additional attention.

I look over my shoulder and lock eyes with Draven. “What did you do back there? To the crowd?”

He has the decency to not pretend like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “Nothing I can discuss in the open.”

I frown but don’t press. Draven doesn’t strike me as the sort of male who can be swayed after making his mind up about something.

Not unless doing so suits him, his brother, or the other males he’s loyal too.

We weave through the sea of diverse people, sights, and sounds. Tongues wag, and laughter erupts. Vendors haggle with customers, and women wave bangle-clad arms with bright smiles as they converse with companions.

Gradually, the vibrant colors dull into hues of white, brown, and the blue of sailors’ garb. The sea-faring citizens speak as many different languages as the people meandering through the city, but their accents are thicker. Rougher. Hard lines carved from the sun and sea mark faces of all ages, though the straight backs and easy smiles of the younger men make them more noticeable.

Off to the side, tucked between two sea-battered warehouses, two children huddle together. A boy and a girl. They look younger than ten, but it’s hard to tell with their clothes and faces so dirty.

A pang strikes my chest at the first evidence of poverty, dulling the gleam of admiration that hovered over my mind since we stepped into Port City.

My grip tightens around the coin purse still in my palm when the boy steps from between the buildings, holding out his hand at the group of sailors passing by.

Not one man turns his way. The boy retreats back into the alley.