Page 7 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

In Verdanthia, people are happy with whatever drink they can get their hands on. It might not be the wisest way to shake up the monotonous, dreary days of working to survive, but it’s effective. And it's one of the few vices the Elders permit.

Will General Ironheart and his goons continue to allow that freedom? Or, like the night Steelvice enforced an archaic curfew for unwed women, will life in Verdanthia become even more oppressive for the neighbors I left behind?

“How will you walk into a tavern?” I ask. The memory of Jaxon and Rian entering Odden’s Tavern plays in vivid color, along with the hatred and distrust of my neighbors filling the mead-soaked air.

“With my two feet stuffed in my boots.”

“No, I mean…” I wave a hand at his head, motioning toward his two very pointed ears. “Aren’t you afraid of how people will react to seeing you?”

I may have never been to this port, but I doubt there’s anywhere in the former human kingdom where people would not balk at the presence of four Fae soldiers in their territory.

And that’s without knowing one is the notorious, violent Shadow Prince.

“That’s simple.” Jaxon walks over to the wagon. He removes one of the wide trunks, rests it on his shoulder, and carries it to the midnight-blue tent. “We will conceal ourselves with glamour.”

“Glamour?”

He drops the trunk just outside the tent. A plume of dirt rises in the air. I cough and wave a hand.

When the dust clears, my cough morphs into a choked gasp. Jaxon stands in front of me. Only, his handsome features have changed.

His sharp jawline is rounder, softer. His strong brow is flat. His deeper skin tone lightens, like the first tan after spending a winter bundled from the elements. Barely there but noticeable.

His hair pales. His nose widens. And then the crests of his ears round.

I stumble back.

Jaxon looks like himself, and yet he doesn’t. He looks ordinary. He looks…human.

The truth hits me like a deluge of ice in a winter storm, chilling me to the bone.

Silas, the Fae believed to be a human rebel, had concealed his nature from everyone in Verdanthia… He possesses the power to change his appearance. Anton, too.

I thought it was a unique gift. Jaxon’s display proves otherwise.

“Well?” He holds his arms wide. “What do you think? How do I look?”

Like a fox in sheep’s clothing.

Have Fae infiltrated Verdanthia under the guise of being human before?

The traveling merchants… Are they truly from distant towns, or are they secret Fae, peddling their wares to desperate, unsuspecting humans?

My already dwindling trust in the Fae continues to plummet into a well in my mind, its depths endless.

I should have reached my limit. I shouldn’t feel an ounce of comfort or relaxation in the Fae’s presence. But Gods save me, part of me still craves the connection I felt in that camp.

I don’t know if that makes me a fool or something worse.

At my expression, Jaxon’s smile dims. He lowers his arms. He opens his mouth to speak and⁠—

“You look like a prissy male who prefers to drink wine with the ladies rather than enjoy a hearty ale with the men,” Darius calls from the other side of the clearing near two tents.

In the blink of an eye, Jaxon’s smile brightens. “Ah, you’ve found me out.”

He releases the illusion, returning to his usual appearance.

“Wine is the drink of choice for many beautiful, fine ladies.” He winks at me. “And it’s an easy way to weasel my way into their company.”