Page 9 of Captive of Secrets and Storms

“Please. Rian won’t kill me,” Darius raises his voice and faces the forest. “He is too fond of his favorite cousin.”

I readjust the fabric in my arms and realize it’s a towel—the softest, thickest towel I’ve ever felt. It feels brand new.

In Verdanthia, clothes and towels are often reused or repurposed several times before they’re shredded and tossed into a garden for compost.

“Keep it up, and I’m not sure your familial ties will be enough to save you from his wrath.” Jaxon grins, but there’s a tinge of true warning in his tone.

The Fae continue to bicker as they take items off the wagon and set up camp. I use the opportunity to escape to the stream.

Shadows ripple faintly above me as I shuffle on stiff, sore legs. Their movement is too deliberate to be natural. The darkness is watching. Waiting for something.

The forest grows denser the farther I go. The terrain becomes uneven, not smoothed by Rian’s shadowy power that cleared our path throughout our journey. Minutes later, rushing water reaches my ears.

I grip the soap and towel tightly and gingerly make my way toward the sound.

By the time I reach the stream, twilight blankets the sky. Water gurgles as it flows over rocks, shining silver under the dying light.

The stream is narrow, less than four feet across, and it’s slow moving.

Good.

I’m not a particularly strong swimmer.

I sit at the edge of the trees where the ground is dry.

After I place the towel and soap down, my tired fingers begin to unlace my boots. The tiny muscles running through my hands tremble from gripping the pommel. Every part of me is fatigued. Especially my mind.

I tug off one boot, wipe beads of sweat from my brow, and then work on the other.

My thoughts drift to Ferria and Anton.

Has her former apprentice explained glamour to her?

He must have.

There’s no way Ferria hasn’t demanded an explanation for how he lived among humans for years without detection.

Gods, help Anton.

I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of my sister’s wrath.

Though he kind of deserves it after deceiving us. After deceiving her.

I glance over my shoulder. The dim, empty forest stares back at me, confirming I’m alone.

Standing, I pile my hair on my head and secure it with the string tied around my wrist. Then I reach around and loosen the ribbons holding the back of my gown together.

Fabric pools at my ankles. Leaves crunch under my bare feet as I move to the water’s edge and dip a toe in.

I squeal and pull my foot back.

Gods, that’s cold!

I bite my lip and stare at the gentle current. The water doesn’t look deep. It’d probably come up to my shoulders. I don’t have to get my hair wet. I can jump in, scrub, and rinse off in minutes. I don’t have to linger.

I return to my gown and pick up the towel and soap. Then I shimmy out of my sheer chemise and undergarments before I rush to the river’s edge, eager to conceal my nakedness under the silver surface.

Tossing the towel close by, I suck in a breath and hurry in.