Page 217 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

“Wait, Rian…”

The Shadow Prince’s glare lands on the Mountain Fae as he slides my satchel and leather bag off his shoulder, handing them over. “Protect your bloodline.”

Anders loops the straps over his shoulder with his free hand and nods, his other arm banded around my midsection. “Understood.”

Rian’s eyes dart to mine one last time.

Then a shadow slams the door shut on Anders and me. And I’m cast into darkness.

I stare into the dark where the door stands, unable to forget the shock in Rian’s voice when Anders told him pirates were raiding Virendrell.

He’s more unnerved by the presence of pirates than he’d been by the Sea Fae.

And that truth sends a tremor down my spine.

Anders clears his throat. “This way, Elara.”

He steps back but keeps hold of my elbow.

Having no choice, I turn and let Anders lead me into the darkness.

The ground is uneven, but it doesn’t drop. We walk on the straight surface, dozens of feet under the earth. My imagination runs wild with the sights and sounds of what’s taking place up above.

The bulging sack behind Anders knocks into me every few steps, but I don’t dare move too far away. Fae have enhanced vision in the absence of light, a skill my Fae blood has clearly not bestowed upon me. I’d fall on my face without help.

“So…” Anders drawls. “You and Rian?”

I slip on a stone and mentally curse these flimsy sandals. They’re hardly better than the slippers I wore in Verdanthia.

“There is no me and Rian,” I counter even as my stomach flips.

“Hm,” he says, the noise laced with disbelief.

“Where are we right now?” My voice bounces off the naked walls around us.

“An underground tunnel.” He guides me to the right. “This network of passages was created long ago. There aren’t many alive who remember they exist.”

“But you do?”

“A friend told me about them.”

“And you told Rian?”

“Yes.”

We veer left. I jerk when a drop of liquid hits my cheek. I swipe away the mysterious moisture quickly.

“I didn’t expect you and Rian to be allies.”

“What is the saying?” Anders huffs an unamused laugh. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

I purse my lips. “Who is your enemy, then? Augustus? Helen?”

“To name two,” he mutters, then adds, “We should be quiet. Fae hearing can reach deeper than you know.”

I press my lips together.

I take solace in the silence, using it to organize my thoughts.