Page 113 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

“From you.” I press my fingers to my temple, trying to steady the spinning. “I saw her in the dungeon…when she gave you that tonic.”

His already pale face turns white as a sheet. “How could you possibly⁠—”

“I was healing you.” I pause to hiccup, covering my mouth with my hand. “Back in Ver⁠—”

“That’s not possible!” He pushes off the wall and stomps across the room, hands shaking. “You… There’s no way that⁠—”

He cuts off and jerks his head to the side, staring out the open window with a rigid jaw. “You…you connected with my mind.”

“I…I guess so?” I close my eyes and sway back.

My head sinks into the fluffy pillow. The mattress hugs my body.

This is heavenly.

Fatigue tugs at my consciousness.

“What else?” Darius clips.

My eyes crack open. My chin drops, and I find him hovering at the end of the bed.

“What else, what?”

“What else did you see?” His throat bobs. “In the dungeon… What did you see?”

My thoughts are fuzzy. What did I see?

My lips turn down. “There was a guard. No, two guards? And Petra.”

Darius flinches.

I continue, “And she mentioned the Shadow Ki⁠—”

“Stop.” He holds up a hand, glancing at the door. “That’s enough. I need to find Rian.”

I’m intoxicated. Badly. But the panic laced through his words is impossible to miss.

“What is it?” I try to focus on his eyes, ignoring the two floating over his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

“If I’m right…a whole fucking lot.”

Darius throws me another unsettled look, then turns on his heel and stomps out my guest room.

Awareness punctures through my drunkenness, igniting a spark of unease in my chest.

Something about my insight into his past has frightened Darius… Something about me scares him.

But what in this world could make a Shadow Fae so afraid?

22

Hours later, my power strips the last trace of alcohol from my bloodstream, leaving me painfully, vividly sober. And horrified by everything I said. Everything I did.

I am a fool.

I pray for Ignar, the God of Flames, to strike me down so I never have to face Darius or the others again.

I don’t care that I was intoxicated—that I hadn’t weighed the fact that my experience with alcohol was limited to the diluted beverages Odden served at his tavern. Those drinks were light compared to the potent drinks served in Virendrell. But there is absolutely no excuse for the fact that I threw myself at Darius.