Page 40 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Did I snore?

Who cares?

In fact, I hope I did.

I hope I woke Rian up throughout the night. Maybe he will reconsider sleeping in the cabin.

“Excellent.” Darius stands at attention, wearing another mischievous grin. “Let’s get lunch, Elara. And I will tell you all about our destination.”

“Darius…” Draven growls.

“Relax, big brother. I know what I’m doing.” Darius motions for me to walk in front of him.

Draven mutters something that sounds a lot like, “Doubt it,” but a gust of wind steals the words away.

The ship sways as we make our way down the warped stairs that lead to the galley. Darius hunches over to avoid hitting the low ceiling.

A simple iron stove is bolted to the floor across the room, and the smell of smoke clings to the air, mingled with salted pork and dried fish spread across the counters. Barrels of food line the other wall, making the space cramped for the cook scurrying about, preparing the midday meal.

The cook, an older, wiry man with muscular forearms, doesn’t even look up. “Grab a plate and fill it with what’s on the counter. No complaints about the meat, or you can enjoy slops for the rest of the journey.”

A low chuckle leaves Darius’s throat. “Aye, aye, cook.”

The man stirs something in the pot and grumbles, waving a dismissive hand at the Fae without even looking up.

Darius picks up two pewter plates and offers me one. I follow behind him as he loads up his plate, taking almost everything he does except for the gray meat.

Growing up in Verdanthia, I’m not usually picky when it comes to food. Nor am I wasteful. But I just got over seasickness. I’m not going to risk food poisoning.

We weave past crates to a makeshift dining area, the tables nothing more than planks balanced across barrels. Lanterns hang low, their light dim through smoke-stained glass.

Four sailors sit nearby, loud and half drunk, their laughter echoing off the beams. A pang hits my chest as I’m again reminded of Odden’s Tavern. Of the nights I spent there with friends. Friends who turned on me the moment their general told them to.

Darius leads me past the sailors to a table with a lone occupant.

Silas.

A plate of half-eaten food is pushed to the side, and he sits hunched over a map.

Darius places his plate next to his friend. “Any luck?”

“None.” Silas closes his eyes and rubs his hands down his face before leaning back in his seat. “They’re like fucking phantoms.”

“We knew that. It’s how they’ve evaded the king this long.”

I peek over at the map. A series of land masses are spread across the surface. I can read the words, but I don’t recognize any of the names. Though, I’m pretty sure they’re Fae.

“Who are you trying to find?” I lower myself onto the bench across from Silas, careful not to put my plate on the map.

Silas’s eyes fly open then dart to mine before narrowing on Darius. “Really?”

“What?” Darius shoves a bite of food into his mouth.

Silas shakes his head. “If you weren’t his cousin, Rian would’ve locked you in a dungeon by now.”

“I am the catalyst this movement needs,” Darius replies with a smug grin. “That he needs.”

Silas shakes his head again.