Page 218 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

But my effort is swiftly overcome by images of the terrors occurring on the streets above us.

Thank the Gods Rian went back.

He’ll find Hali. He’ll help protect Virendrell from the pirates.

He has to.

My arms itch. I can’t see them, but the marks from our deal flick and dance around, just as unsettled as I am.

Minutes pass.

The ground under me begins to incline. Anders’s hold on my arm tightens, helping me navigate the changing surface. Then the stagnant, musty air starts to lessen.

Up and up we go.

I lift my head and stare into the darkness. Light magic whispers into my palms.

A subtle glow appears in the distance.

I take my first deep breath since Rian shut the door in my face.

The ground becomes rockier. Sharp. I slip on the uneven surface, scratching the sides of my feet while Anders moves with typical Fae grace.

The glow ahead grows brighter, a beacon guiding me through the hellish storm this night has become.

The sound of crashing waves reaches me first.

We step out of the dark into the moonlit night and onto an unoccupied, rocky shore. Sirens sound in the distance, but the number of ear-piercing alarms has reduced.

A look over my shoulder reveals a cavern embedded in the side of a tall cliff. The opening itself looks natural and unassuming. No one who came across it would think anything of it. Other than a source of shelter from a storm, perhaps.

Anders’s grip eases as we start to cross the sandy beach.

A sea breeze rustles my gown and hair. The sweat on my neck cools, sending a shiver through my body.

“How far away is the boat?” I ask.

“Not far.” Anders’s boots sink into wet sand left behind by the receding tide.

My steps are lighter, but the beach still sucks at my sandals.

“Will it be large enough for Hali and the others?” I hadn’t thought to ask before I insisted Rian go gather up the group of defecting Virendrellians.

“It’ll be tight, but we should be fine.” Anders leads us around a jagged boulder jutting out of the sand, a broken shard from the cliffside hovering at our backs.

I stare at the side of his face.

His eyes slide to mine. “What?”

“Did you get your nephew out?”

“Yes.” He faces forward. “He’s already on his way to the boat.”

“Good.”

Another breeze rolls over us, bringing with it the scent of decaying algae gathered close to the waterline.

I stare at the beach under my feet. Dirt stains the bottom of my gown.