Page 89 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

It all hits me.

I haven’t rested. Not truly.

Not since the night I was ripped from my bed after the Late King’s Festival. My world shattered in an instant. I’ve been separated from my family and forced to leave the only home I’ve ever known.

And yet, right now, standing in the arms of my greatest enemy, the weight lightens.

With Rian here, nothing can reach me.

I feel…safe?

Gods, save me. I close my eyes and inhale through my nostrils. What is happening to me?

“Don’t do that.”

My eyelids fly open. “Do what?”

“Look away from me.” Rian’s gaze dips down to my throat, eyes flashing when he focuses on the wound still marring my sensitive flesh from the dagger. “I loathe it when you look away from me.”

Heat creeps up my neck, and my thoughts swirl with equal parts indignation and something far more dangerous.

Something I refuse to name.

Rian’s eyes lift back to lock with mine, waiting. The marks on my arms tighten.

I grasp for words but come up empty.

What am I supposed to say to something like that?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I startle and fall back onto the mattress, catching myself with my hands. My heart flutters as I stare up at Rian, breathless.

Silver flares in his gaze before sputtering out. He pivots just as the door swings open.

“Hello, dear, I’m here to help you dress— Oh my.”

An older, full-figured woman halts two steps inside the room. Her eyes dart between Rian and me, where I perch on the edge of the bed.

“My apologies, my lord,” she says quickly, dipping into a practiced curtsy. “I expected the lady to be alone.”

“No apology necessary,” Rian says smoothly, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “I was just leaving.”

The woman steps away from the door, head tilted in deference. “Of course.”

I drag in a steadying breath, my gaze snagging on Rian’s back. Without his shadowy cloak, the lines of muscle beneath his tunic are impossible to ignore.

He steps into the hall, but his hand lands on the doorframe.

He glances over his shoulder, a faint grin curling his mouth. “See you tonight, Sunshine.”

The door closes before I can reply.

But not before his wicked wink finds its mark, leaving a warmth in my veins I can’t shake…and don’t entirely want to.

18

Attention slams into me from every direction, brushing my skin like invisible fingers—caressing my cheeks, throat, and the pale flesh above my chest. I’ve never felt so exposed, not even in a torn nightgown, cowered in the corner of a cell, bloody from Fief’s interrogation.