Page 54 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Hearing his voice weave into my panicked mind felt…intimate. Not perverse enough to be considered an invasion. Though, that should have been my reaction.

I definitely shouldn’t have felt reassured by his silent, yet echoing, voice. Or encouraged by his aggravated order to not give up—to fight the sea creature that dragged me into frigid, dark waters.

“Stay strong, Elara,” I murmur.

I can’t let my guard down around the Fae. No matter what happens.

With a shake of my head, I stand and move into the tiny bathing chamber attached to the cabin. I close and lock the door behind me then shimmy out of my soaked clothes. The fabric hits the floor with a plop.

A washcloth sits in the water basin on the counter. I grab it, then step into the tiny alcove that serves as a shower stall. There’s no running water, and the sound of the sea seeps through the gap along the bottom of the wall, serving as a drain.

Gooseflesh peppers my skin along with a shiver as I wipe off the salty water. An amber bar of soap sits on the corner of the counter. I reach out and bring it to my nose.

The spicy, woodsy scent fills my nostrils, and my heart flips.

Rian’s soap.

I bite my bottom lip.

Should I leave without washing?

I don’t know how long we will be on the dinghy. And once we reach Virendrell, the Gods only know how long it will be until I am able to find a bathing chamber.

Just do it.

I lather the soap in my hands and quickly wash and rinse my body, clearing away the enticing scent that does strange things to my pulse as soon as I can.

Once finished, I step out onto the warped floor and wrap a threadbare towel around my body before cracking the door open.

The cabin is empty.

I tiptoe across the space, quickly dry off, and then change into a fresh gown and skirt. I forgo undergarments. They’re all dirty, and I cringe at the thought of wearing them after I’ve washed.

Gathering my belongings, ensuring the Fae text and diary are wrapped in dry clothing and not in danger of slipping out of my bags, I return to the deck.

The sun breaks through the cloudy sky, and the waves have lessened their assault on the sides of the ship. I hold my soaked boots in my hands, opting to wear the dry flats Juniper had slipped into my pack, and approach the Fae gathered around the dinghies.

I step between Darius and Draven.

“—leave us to the mercy of the beasts below?” The ship’s captain narrows his beady eyes on the Shadow Prince.

I’d call the man brave, but I’m certain he doesn’t know who, exactly, he’s speaking with.

“One of us will return with a rescue party as soon as one can be secured,” Rian says. “You have my word.”

“Ack.” The old man turns and spits, the saliva stained brown from chewing tobacco. “Your word means nothing.”

A shadow slithers along Rian’s back. “What would reassure you?”

“One of you must remain behind with us.” The captain’s eyes slide to me and trail down the length of my body.

A block of ice settles in my gut.

Shadows pulse from more than one Fae around me.

“I’d be careful with your next words.” Rian’s tone is even, but the promise of violence laces each word.

The man doesn’t so much as flinch. “Those are my terms. A member of your traveling party must remain with the ship to guarantee you come back.”