Page 163 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

“Don’t lie to me.” I frown. “I’m trying to help you.”

His eyes flash. “Help me?”

“Yes.”

“You invaded my mind!” He jumps to his feet. “You read my memories.”

“Not on purpose.” I stand, unwilling to allow him to hover over me with his superior height: I won’t cower. “The vision overcame me when I attempted to heal you. It…it felt like an attack from the curse dwelling within you.”

His eyes continue to flash, his anger unabated by my words. “I don’t care. We will not discuss it or her. Not now. Not ever.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“But it’s clearly important.” I throw my hands in the air. “She gave you poison!”

“She had no choice!” Darius yells.

His breathing stutters, and his gaze unfocuses, looking as if he’s trapped in the snares of a haunting memory.

A memory I need to understand.

“Petra worked for the king,” I say softly.

His handsome face twists, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“She gave you poison,” I continue. “On his orders. But she matters to you. It’s obvious you care for her.”

“Cared.”

I blink. “Sorry?”

His eyelids part, and the emptiness within them makes my stomach clench.

“Cared,” he repeats. “I cared for her.”

I search his gaze. “What happened?”

He huffs and looks away, staring at the roaring flames in the hearth. “Petra is dead.”

The words strike me as surely as a knife to the heart, twisting deep when fresh agony ripples over Darius’s face.

“I’m sorry.”

He dips his chin, continuing to stare into the flames.

I should stop.

I should move along and do what I came here to do and try to heal him.

But the defeated set of his shoulders and lack of a smile are so unlike the charming, boisterous male I’ve come to know. It’s impossible not to worry—to not want to know more.

Darius has masked his emotions with smiles and a quick wit. With jokes and winks.

But despite his protests, this is something he needs to talk about. He won’t heal if he doesn’t.

So, with no inflection, no judgment, I ask, “What was in the vial Petra gave you?”