Page 6 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

But Darius’s eyes linger, his grin softening with an unreadable emotion. Before he can speak, a shadow bursts through the air, solidifying into a hand, and shoves him back.

He hits the ground with a laugh.

Jaxon snorts. “You’re walking a fine line, my friend.”

“It’s worth it.” Darius stands and dusts himself off, shooting me a quick wink before striding over to the supply wagon.

My cheeks flame.

Jaxon mutters something under his breath before taking our horses’ reins and leading them to rest under the trees.

I cross my arms, unsure what to do with myself, then wander into the shade. I didn’t realize we’d be stopping to camp for the night. Honestly, aside from noting we traveled southeast, I’ve thought of little else except my sister, Juniper, and all of the Fae’s secrets.

The last rays of sunlight flicker through the branches of the canopy above. The air smells of damp earth and moss, tinged faintly with salt. We must be near the coast, close to whatever port the Fae want to reach.

What could the Fae want there?

Are they planning to leave the continent?

And would they truly expect me to go with them?

“Gonna help, princess?” Draven’s gravelly voice rustles the air.

My head whips up. Bedrolls sit high in his arms. Behind him, Darius and Jaxon prop a tent up with their shadows. Hammers made of darkness drive stakes into the ground while others drape the off-white fabric over the structure.

“Well?” Draven grunts.

I hurry over. He drops a bedroll into my arms and then jerks his head toward a midnight-blue tent that’s already risen behind him. The fabric glimmers faintly with an emblem that catches what little light remains.

The selmary rose with thorns curling around the stems.

Shadows have cleared away the surrounding trees to provide enough room for what I now know is the royal tent. Though, I wonder what the emblem represents. It’s not the king’s crest. The vicious snake wrapped up in thorny, wispy shadows strikes terror in all who see it. It’s not one you forget.

“You never answered our question.”

I fumble with the bedroll. A grin tugs on Jaxon’s lips.

I ask, “What question?”

“Ale or wine?”

“Oh.” I readjust the bedroll in my arms. “Ale, I suppose.”

“What?”

“AH-HA!” Darius cheers from across the rocky clearing separating us. “That’s my girl.”

Heat rises once more in my cheeks, and they only grow hotter when Draven shifts the bedrolls to one hand and smacks Darius on the back of the head.

“This can’t be.” Jaxon looks stricken. “I’ll have to change your mind at the port.”

“What do you mean?”

“The port.” He takes the bedroll from my arms and tosses it into the royal tent. Then he faces me, hands on his hips, a mischievous grin pulling his lips. “We’ll find a tavern, and I’ll order you wine and ale. I’m convinced you will prefer wine to that swill that tastes little better than rainwater.”

I don’t argue.

Honestly, it seems like a privileged position to hold.