Page 31 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Even though I don’t look, I know he’s there. It’s impossible not to feel the power in that stare.

Holding my arms out for balance, I keep my eyes on the wood under my feet and slowly make my way up the gangplank.

My knees tremble. Sweat rolls down my spine despite the cool breeze rolling off the sea. The sailors’ shouts grow louder. The water is farther away.

Up and up I climb until, at last, strong fingers wrap around mine.

This time, I grip Rian’s hand like a lifeline and let him pull me the rest of the way onto the ship.

I jump down onto the deck, locking my legs to keep from buckling, and step away from the Shadow Prince without meeting his eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

I wait for him to walk away—to leave me to sulk. But he just stands there. Staring.

My blood warms.

Jaxon jumps on board, takes one look at us, and veers off to join the others, taking my belongings with him.

The air between me and Rian hums, alive and trembling.

Shadows cling to his shoulders, shifting like smoke, and for one heartbeat, his silver gaze catches mine.

Something inside me falters.

My fingers twitch. I lift my hand.

Rian turns and strides away.

My arm falls to my side.

What am I doing?

With a firm shake of my head, I move to the railing and grip it tightly as sailors pull up the gangplank.

A bell tolls across the harbor. The anchor groans as it lifts, and the snap of the unfurling topsail cracks through the air.

Slowly, the ship drifts from the dock.

Through it all, Rian’s power lingers on the air—warm, dark, familiar. It wraps around me like a ghost, tracing across my neck, down my spine, sinking deep into my skin.

I lose track of how long I stand at the railing, fingers digging into the wood, watching my homeland fade until it’s nothing but a speck on the horizon.

One lone tear tracks down my cheek and falls into the abyss as I sail into the unknown.

7

Less than an hour into our voyage, I beg the goddess Olyra to still the sea. But the Goddess of Fate refuses to hear my pleas.

The ship pitches and rolls like a toy boat in a stormSweat clings to my skin, and my vision sways with the horizon. Hot bile claws its way up my throat with each groan of the hull. I choke it down again and again, but my resolve is slipping fast. I’m going to die on this ship.

There’s no other outcome.

I perch on a large crate lashed to the main deck, gripping the rough wood like it’s the only thing tethering me to the world. Around me, the merchant vessel creaks and heaves beneath a flurry of motion—sailors shouting orders, boots thudding, ropes tightening. The Fae chartered this ship and its crew, and cargo fills every inch of the deck and hull below.

I try to focus on the sailors scurrying in front of me. Each of them is human. Like the crowds in Port City, they have a variety of accents and languages, but they communicate in the common tongue.

Almost the moment we moved away from the harbor, Rian and the others abandoned the glamour altering their appearances.