Page 84 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

My spine prickles.

“This way.” Jason strides toward the right side of the room and opens a door, the seams of which blended into the wall perfectly.

The Fae follow without a word.

I force a breath past the knot in my throat before I do the same, but cast one last glance over my shoulder.

Augustus and Helen remain stoic, composed, eyes gleaming with something sharp and satisfied.

Suspicion slams into me, sudden and absolute.

Virendrell is beautiful, but I need to be careful.

Or I fear I’ll be trading the dungeon in Verdanthia for a gilded one here.

17

Eyes watch every step I take. Some curious, some indifferent. Others are calculating. Each one threatens to push me over the cliff’s edge where my composure teeters.

I curl my hands into fists and keep my gaze forward, pretending as if I don’t notice the tall, graceful women wearing vibrant sheet-dresses whispering behind manicured fingers. Or the shorter, curvaceous ones wearing aprons over rich blue gowns, peeking over arms burdened with dining trays, linens, and baskets of cloth.

I assume the latter are servants. Though, they’re dressed finely for such an occupation. Their clothes are nicer than anything I wore in Verdanthia, aside from my mother’s gown the night of the Late King’s Festival.

I look at my wrinkled skirt and blouse and run a hand over my sea-crusted hair.

Why aren’t they scrutinizing the Fae the way they scrutinize me?

Rian revealed that glamour is altering their appearances, but what about me? What do Virendrellians see when they look at me that prompts them to stare?

I swallow the question and keep walking as Jason leads us up the second flight of stairs.

It’s a strange choice for the mayor to send his son to escort us. Reckless, even.

Unless he’s certain the Fae won’t touch him.

My gaze drops to the dark bands locked around the Fae’s wrists. My stomach tightens.

Augustus didn’t question the magic-suppressing manacles. And Helen recognized them instantly.

Does the world know Verdanthia is mining astlerium?

And if they do, will anyone try to stop them?

“So,” Jason says, slowing just enough to glance back at us, “how is life on the continent? Is it truly as dreary as our spies claim?”

Spies?

Silas walks closest to him. He meets Jason’s gaze with an indifferent one of his own, but his fingers curl slightly.

“For the most part,” he says evenly.

Jason snorts. “Thank The Mother my ancestors escaped that cursed place.”

Immediately, he stiffens, glances at Rian, and mutters, “No offense.”

Rian meets his stare without a word.

Jason swallows and turns back around, his steps a touch quicker.