Page 82 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

Fief’s breath ghosts across my face—hot, foul. His hateful laughter rings in my ears, sharp with delight as I scream.

Pain blooms against my ribs, phantom fractures stabbing deep. I squeeze my eyes shut.

It’s over.

You’re not there.

You’re safe.

Fingers curl around mine.

My eyes fly open.

I tell myself I’m not disappointed to find Silas’s kind eyes staring back at me.

His mouth curves into a faint smile before he turns back toward the room. He doesn’t release me.

I grip his palm tightly.

Augustus clears his throat. “Am I to understand that you have enough cuffs for each of you?”

Rian’s gaze cuts to Darius.

He opens his sack wider, tilting it so the mayor and his family can see inside.

Augustus shifts forward, peers in, then settles back in his chair.

He drums his fingers on the armrest, watching the Fae with a contemplative stare.

Then he nods. “Very well. If you each agree to wear the cuffs, I will send an envoy to assess your ship. If they find no hostile intent, it will be towed here for repairs.”

“That is not⁠—”

“That is the best I can do, Your Highness,” Augustus interrupts. “I will not risk the lives of my men on your word alone.”

He lifts his chin higher then continues, “If what you say is true, Virendrell will aid your cause and help repair your ship. Until then, you and your retinue are invited to join in the wedding celebrations this week.”

The words may be an invitation, but there’s no mistaking it as anything other than a demand.

My heart races in my chest. Fresh sweat drips down my spine. I cannot wear the manacles. Not again. My power is almost non-existent at this moment. I can’t subject it to those oppressive, cursed cuffs again. I won’t.

Air rattles in my lungs, passing my throat in short, frantic spurts. Silas squeezes my fingers. I barely feel it.

Panic settles into my chest, pumping through my veins. Magic flickers, triggered by my distress, but unable to offer any meaningful help.

Jason’s head snaps to me. His brow furrows.

“What do you say, Your Highness?” the mayor asks. “Do you agree to my terms?”

I tear my gaze from the mayor’s son.

I wait for the shadow above to drop and smother the family in darkness, for tendrils to spear from the Shadow Prince’s body and cut down any man foolish enough to bar our exit.

“Very well,” Rian says smoothly.

My jaw drops.

What?