Page 232 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

My ankle rolls. I cry out and the hand at my throat draws back as I crash to my knees. Red stains my palms and skirt.

I barely have time to suck in a desperate breath before my captor yanks me up. Fire kisses my skin once more. I recoil with a tiny wince.

“Keep walking,” the pirate sneers in my face, “or I’ll burn you alive.”

The darkness in my chest hisses.

I clamp my mouth shut and give a shaky nod.

The fighting varies from street to street. On some, the pirates have the upper hand, but most show Virendrellians defeating their enemies. The pirates had the element of surprise, but they’ve lost that advantage.

Which begs the question, why would the pirates sign up for a fight they couldn’t possibly hope to win?

What did Helen offer them?

We near the sea wall. Flames roar overhead, heat pressing down like a suffocating cloud. Sweat slides down my temples.

“Oy! Karl!” a stocky male calls from a turret rising from the corner of the wall. “Over here!”

My captor bellows, “We’re almost there, boys! Move!”

They pick up their pace.

Pain jolts through my leg with every step. Without my magic, I feel everything—the rocks, the cuts, the raw burn of seared skin.

“Hey, Karl?” an unnamed archer says, voice slick with amusement. “Think the boss’ll mind if we have some fun first?”

My head snaps up.

He licks his lips. A gold hoop dangles from one earlobe. “She’s a pretty thing.”

“Hm,” my captor, Karl, murmurs, his fiery fist flaring closer. “Who says he has to know?”

Cold floods my veins.

I will gouge out their eyes before I let that happen.

I wrench my arm sideways.

Karl laughs, the sound scraping my cheek. “Relax, darling. We have strict orders not to touch you.”

My eyes fly to his. “Wha⁠—”

A feminine voice cries out, “Elara!”

My heart stops.

Hali?

I whip my head to the side and spot the earth wielder immediately.

She and another woman in servant’s attire are backed against a stone building, brandishing short daggers at the four pirates closing in around them.

These pirates look…different.

Worn, dirty trousers sag beneath their stained tunics. Their shorn hair stands on end. One grins with malevolence, showcasing missing and stained teeth. He reaches down with his free hand to loosen his belt.

“Hali!” I try to pull free.