Page 231 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

The grip on my arm never loosens as my captor yanks me down the path, flanked by the two armed pirates, their heads swiveling as we move toward a city glowing with fire.

A chill skates down my spine as a cold breeze rolls in from the sea. I shiver, my toga still damp from when Anders threw me into the tide.

It isn’t long before screams reach us, accompanied by the clash of steel and the cries of agony.

My lungs seize, but I force a breath in through my nose.

I will be okay.

Fire won’t keep the Shadow Fae back for long. Darius will recover. Anders and Silas will come for me.

I just have to endure whatever comes next.

A lump swells in my throat. Swallowing hurts. The skin there is tender, scorched where flames brushed too close.

My bare foot throbs, blood slick between my toes.

“What’s wrong with her?” one archer mutters, eyeing me.

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” another snaps. “Just get her on the ship so we can end this fucking nightmare.”

That is the last thing I want to happen.

We reach a pair of city gates that are nearly as tall as the white sea wall but thinner. As if Virendrell never imagined an enemy would invade from the land.

Torches blaze along the top of the wall, but there’s no unruly fire here. The metal gates are lifted, welcoming us inside without resistance.

Buildings sit dark and shuttered, businesses closed for the night. Everything appears calm.

Then we turn the corner.

The city opens before me, angling down, and the pristine streets I once marveled at now run red.

Men and women clash with pirates, wielding daggers, swords, and magic. Fires rage on rooftops. Screams punctuate the air in a relentless rhythm.

But despite the chaos, despite the blood and destruction, the Virendrellians outnumber the invaders.

The pirates are losing.

“Fuck!” one archer bellows, already drawing back his bow.

The arrow sings through the air before I can shout a warning.

The metal glints in the firelight then buries itself in a man’s throat. His sword clatters to the ground as he claws at the wound.

The pirate he was fighting drives a bolt of ice through his stomach before spinning away to engage another Virendrellian.

“Stop, Steinn,” my captor barks, and his burning hand pulls back an inch. “Don’t lose focus. We have a mission.”

The archer, Steinn, snarls like a wounded animal with his back pressed against the wall, but he doesn't fire another arrow.

I bite my cheek until I taste blood.

None of this makes sense.

Why would Helen let pirates burn her city?

I’m pulled left before I can guess an answer.