Page 67 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Over and over, the men chant as they row, following the beat of the drum. Unnatural wind fills their sails. The boat slices through the blue water with incredible speed.

“Mother save me,” Darius’s voice cuts in, the second dinghy bobbing alongside ours. “I can’t believe we missed all the fun.”

Silas’s narrow eyes land on his friend. “Where were you?”

“Enjoying the ocean air,” he answers.

The departing ship drifts away, and the last of the unease from the standoff slowly fades from my chest, until Draven speaks.

“The fool lost consciousness,” Draven growls, pulling up both oars to rest on his lap.

“What?” My gaze snaps to Darius. “What happened?”

“It was nothing⁠—”

“It’s the curse,” Draven says.

Darius glares at his brother. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he snaps. “Or are you forgetting that I witnessed your body’s gradual decline in the weeks it took for you to fully succumb?”

A muscle in Darius’s jaw ticks. “I was tired.”

“You are cursed,” Draven snarls. “And you damn well almost drowned.”

“You fell in the water,” Rian interrupts.

It’s not a question, but Darius rolls back his shoulders and answers anyway. “I did.”

“Elara.” My name on Rian’s lips makes my heart flip.

I meet the prince’s stare.

“Are you strong enough to assess how far the curse has spread?”

I chew my bottom lip. “Honestly? I don’t know, but I can try.”

He nods, dark eyes holding mine with quiet intensity that makes my toes curl.

Stop it, Elara!

I shake my head once and tear my gaze away.

Blood colors Darius’s cheeks. His eyes gleam. He’s far from the sickly gray male that I first saw in Verdanthia.

But that had been after weeks of unconsciousness. Last I checked, the curse was still a small pebble behind his sternum. Could it really have spread so quickly?

Only one way to find out.

I take a deep breath and pretend like I don’t feel the weight of four Fae’s expectant stares. Closing my eyes, I search for my healing power. I dive into my chest, peering through the blood and tissue, seeking its characteristic warmth.

A spark flickers.

I zero in on the sensation, mentally wrapping my hands around the precious remnant of my power, holding it with care.

I’m so sorry to ask this… I cling to it tighter, afraid it will slip away. But can you help me?

The power flickers once more before releasing what is nothing less than a defeated sigh. Its warmth recedes. An ache settles in my chest.