Page 3 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Darius hisses and rubs the spot, narrowing his eyes on Draven before swinging his gaze to Jaxon. “Since when are you my brother’s attack dog?”

My brows rise.

Brother?

“Since he asked me to hit you.” Jaxon grins. “I’ll yap at his ankles all day if that’s my reward.”

A shadow shoots out of Darius’s pointer finger and shoves Jaxon’s shoulder. The affable Fae laughs, the sound bouncing off the thick tree trunks around us.

“Shut the fuck up, you two,” Draven snaps, though there’s a lilt of amusement to the order. “Before you alert every beast in the woods of our presence.”

Jaxon’s laughter is slow to die, but he and Darius heed Draven’s command for all of two minutes before they resume their earlier banter. Albeit at a much quieter volume.

The reminder that monsters roam the Forbidden Forest has me scanning the dense trees to my left and right. Insects buzz. Birds sing their songs. Despite Draven’s words, I doubt the creatures that haunt most of my nightmares are anywhere near our traveling party. Just like in Verdanthia.

Predators recognize fellow predators. And there is no question—the Fae are far more dangerous than the dark monsters that terrorized my town.

At the front of the group, Rian’s billowing power rolls forward and coats the woods. The inky blackness pulses before dissipating into gray smoke, leaving a clear, smooth path for the horses and wagon.

My pulse trips. His power seems…boundless. The kind of power that could destroy the world if left unchecked.

Humans have all heard stories of the Shadow King’s power, the strength of the darkness he wields with remorseless, violent precision. And rumors say his heir is even stronger.

“What’s your favorite drink, Elara?” Jaxon interrupts my dark musings. “Ale or wine?”

I jolt in the saddle. The mare tosses her head at the movement but keeps a steady gait.

“What?” I ask.

“Your favorite drink. At a tavern. What is it?”

My forehead furrows. “Why do you want to know?”

He hikes a thumb at Darius. “Because this idiot is trying to argue that ale is better.”

“I am arguing that it is easier to acquire quality ale while traveling than it is to find decent wine,” Darius counters, flinging his head back.

Sunlight beams through the cleared canopy, highlighting the red streaks in his otherwise dark strands.

“But which tastes better?” Jaxon presses.

“On a consistent basis?” Darius clarifies. “Ale.”

Jaxon throws his hands into the air. The horse underneath him doesn’t so much as shuffle. “You’re a stubborn ass.”

“What is it with you and my ass?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s mediocre at best.”

“That’s not what your sister said the last time⁠—”

“Enough.” Rian’s voice cracks through their revelry.

Jaxon’s retaliatory shadow halts its impending assault, inches from Darius’s strong jaw.

Every nerve in my body stands at attention.

I hate this.