Page 52 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

The marks on my arms quiver. “Then why would we go there?”

“Because it’s the only place the king can’t follow.”

Draven’s voice is rough when he adds, “And a place where most who enter never leave.”

His eyes lift to the horizon, the light catching on the edge of his jaw, hard and grim. The formidable Fae looks…vulnerable.

A cold certainty lodges deep in my gut: Draven and Silas are afraid.

And if what awaits us at this mysterious destination terrifies the Fae…what can it do to someone like me?

11

Draven and Silas stand at the edge of the damaged deck. The ship bobs beneath us, every groan of timber tolling like a warning bell as I wait for them to speak.

But they remain silent.

Every instinct screams that wherever we’re heading only spells danger. But my position as Rian’s captive means I have absolutely no say in the Fae’s plans.

Best to learn as much about my mysterious, ominous destination while I can.

Air floods my nostrils as I inhale. “So…what is this place? Where shadows aren’t welcome?”

Silas tugs on his damp shirt. “The closest landmass is the island of Virendrell.”

I gape, the word stealing my voice for a moment. Virendrell.

The land whispered about in stories—where Fae and humans are said to live side by side.

A place I didn't believe was real. Not until Rian told me that if humans were smart, we’d all be sailing for Virendrell’s shores to escape the monsters roaming the Forbidden Forest.

My mouth hangs open as I stare at Silas, waiting for him to correct himself. To say he’s joking.

But his features are resolute, distant. He looks out at the horizon, his mind somewhere else.

I turn to Draven. “I don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand?” he grunts.

“Virendrell…” I lick my lips. Bitter seawater stings my tongue. “You two make it sound dangerous.”

“Oh, it’s dangerous, all right. And teeming with self-righteous pricks. We have no business going there.”

He stomps away, joining Jaxon and Rian, who now stand beside an uncovered dinghy.

Shadows lift items from opened crates spread over the deck. Water skins, food rations, and sacks stuffed with Gods know what float over to the dinghy.

Silas shifts closer. A gust of wind slaps my soaked skirt around my legs. I tighten my hold on Draven’s cloak.

“Why aren’t Shadow Fae welcome in Virendrell?” I ask.

He sighs. “Astloria isn’t the only land our king has tried to conquer.”

I blink. That’s news to me.

“I take it the Shadow King didn’t succeed in conquering Virendrell?”

“No,” he says. “Thank The Mother.”