Page 237 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

“Elara, please.” She sighs. “You have to stop this. Everything is fine.”

“Fine?” A hiccup catches in my throat, turning my laugh into something broken. “There is nothing fine about what just happened. About what almost⁠—”

The word fractures into another sob. I curl tighter, hiding my face, but Ferria’s hands are already there, warm and steady as she cups my cheeks and gently forces me to look at her.

Her green eyes—too sharp and steady for a ten-year-old child—hold mine.

“I’m safe,” she says firmly. “You’re safe. There’s nothing to be scared of. We escaped the forest.”

A shudder tears through me. I press my lips together, trying to trap the truth before it spills out.

How do I explain this feeling tearing me apart?

How do I tell my twin that something irrevocable happened the moment I met that creature’s gaze?

That when I stared into the Onyx Wraith’s malicious eyes, it saw me in return?

That by thwarting the monster with my magic, I lit a beacon in the world that every wicked thing can see. I put a target on our backs.

And I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time before they come for us.

Ice-cold water crashes over me, ripping me from the haunting dream. The fragments of my worst childhood memory scatter, dissolving into panic and confusion.

I cough and splutter, shoving myself upright on a sticky, unforgiving surface. I blink furiously, my palms aching as I wipe moisture from my eyes, then gasp.

A man stands in front of me.

No.

A Fae.

Several gold hoop earrings glint along the pointed crest of his ears. Short, stark-white hair is slicked back from his chiseled face, accentuating tan skin and youthful, wrinkle-free features.

He is, without question, one of the most striking men I’ve ever seen.

He’s also wearing the same leathers as the men from the beach. The same as the man I murdered with unsettling dark power that refuses to leave my body.

The ground beneath me rolls violently. The lanterns hanging from the beams behind the Fae’s head sway in wide arcs.

I slam a hand against the wooden floor to keep from toppling over.

My stomach drops.

I’m on a ship.

The pirates’ ship.

And the leather-clad pirate…sailor…whatever the Fae is, stares down at me. A wooden bucket dangles loosely from his curled fingers.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice melodic and smooth. “Good.”

A shiver ripples down my spine.

“My apologies for the less-than-ideal greeting.” He sets the bucket on the warped floor by his boots. “But time is of the essence, and I need you conscious for what comes next.”

An ominous undercurrent coils beneath his words.

I push wet strands from my face with a trembling hand. “Who are you?”