Page 87 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

But he killed those men to protect you…

My stomach tightens. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I know it isn’t disgust.

And that’s…unsettling.

“You must not discuss your magic while we’re here.”

“What?” I blink and force my eyes to meet his. “Why?”

The only positive about being trapped in Virendrell is the chance to discuss magic with other humans without the fear of being burned alive.

“It’s best not to reveal all your cards to your enemies.”

I cross my arms. “Who said Virendrellians are my enemies?”

His gaze sharpens. “You think of them as your allies?”

“They’re human.” Some of them, anyway.

Silver peeks through his irises, bright and furious, a reminder that even bound, his power sits just below the surface.

“Yes, they are humans.” Contempt threads through every word. “Humans with magic who are content to sit behind their sea walls and let the rest of the world burn, just as long as the flames never reach their shores.”

My attention drops to the dark metal biting into his wrists, a knot tightening in my throat.

“Do not confuse shared blood with shared loyalty,” he continues. “Virendrellians are not your saviors. They are not the ones who pulled you from that cell in Verdanthia.”

“Is that what you think you are?” I scowl. “My savior?”

“No.” He pushes off the door, arms falling to his sides as he advances. “I am something far greater.”

It takes every shred of stubborn resolve I possess not to retreat.

“Oh?” I lift my chin. “And what’s that?”

His jaw works, muscles flexing as silver flares in his eyes. Their intensity strikes straight through my chest, but it doesn’t hurt.

If anything, it’s the opposite.

He keeps coming until the toes of his boots brush my filthy slippers. I tilt my head back to hold his stare.

Rian leans in.

I seal my lips, heart hammering.

His breath ghosts over my mouth as he exhales. “I’m your prince.”

I mean to scoff, but the sound comes out rough. Strangled. “You’re not my anything, Zylen.”

His upper lip curls, revealing the sharp edge of a canine.

My arms drop, and I step back on instinct, my subconscious recognizing a dangerous predator and demanding my retreat.

Rian matches my step, continuing to do so with every one I take until my knees hit the edge of the mattress.

I lock my legs. Falling onto a bed with him would be a huge mistake.

“If you must speak of your magic with humans, only say you are a healer,” he commands. “Do not discuss your light.”