Page 249 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

I flinch at the sudden voice before relief floods me.

“Hali!” I wrap my arms around her. “You’re okay?”

“Thanks to you,” she says, hugging me back. “And I’m sorry about Nance. I swear, I had no idea she was in contact with the Sea Fae.”

I shove down the questions that news elicits. “It’s not your fault. Besides, it doesn’t matter. We’re all safe.”

For now.

The honey scent of Hali’s freshly washed hair carries on the breeze, sharp against the salt and smoke that still cling to me.

I’m painfully aware of how disheveled I am while she’s changed into oversized trousers and a long tunic, clearly borrowed from her brother.

My gaze drifts back to the Shadow Fae.

Freed from astlerium manacles, their shadows ripple and stretch along their backs, but Rian’s are the darkest by far. They cling to him like a second skin.

“Well,” a male voice drawls nearby, “this is not how I imagined my first day as a free man would begin.”

My head snaps toward him. “Leto?”

The fire wielder approaches with easy confidence, still dressed in his pristine toga from the evening’s festivities. Unlike me, not a single wrinkle mars the fabric, and his hair is immaculate.

“Hello, Elara.”

I gape at my dance partner. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, yes.” Anders appears. “I forgot I have not properly introduced you. Elara, meet my nephew, Leto Orestis.”

My jaw drops. “You’re Anders’s nephew?”

Beside me, Hali crosses her arms with a huff.

Leto smirks. “Surprised?”

“Why?” My gaze swings to Anders. “Why hide it?”

“Yes, Leto.” Hali sneers. “Why hide?”

I have a feeling she’s not talking about his relation to Anders.

Leto’s expression darkens. “Because you know exactly what it’s like to be half Fae in Virendrell.”

Hali stiffens. She snaps her lips closed.

I clear my throat and turn to Anders. “You should have told me.”

You should have told me a lot of things.

“Perhaps,” he says. “But it changes nothing now.”

I guess that’s true.

Hali’s hands curl into fists, and her lips form a thin line as she continues to glare at Leto.

The tension hums like a drawn bowstring. Not for the first time, I feel the weight of their unknown history pressing between them.

I scan the deck.