17. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
T he rain pelts down on us, a torrent of icy needles that washes away the blood staining my skin, as Daed’s powerful wings slice through the storm. The sky is a mass of rolling clouds, illuminated by flashes of lightning, casting his face in sharp, angry relief. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes narrowed against the wind, and every muscle in his body is coiled with tension as he keeps me pressed against his chest. I clutch at his soaked tunic, a different kind of rage burning in my stomach.
Baev’kalath was supposed to be my sanctuary—my protection. But it’s proven more dangerous than anything I ever faced in The Grove. If the Mordorin can’t keep me safe within their own fortress, how could they possibly protect my people from the Legion of Saints across the sea?
We land hard on his balcony, his boots hitting the wet stone with a heavy thud. He steps inside without a word, sparing us from the worst of the downpour as he sets me down. The warmth of the plush rug is a stark contrast to the freezing air, but my toes are already tinged blue and my teeth chatter from the cold. I must look awful—my nightgown clings to my body like a second skin, the soaked fabric tracing every curve, the warm tone of my olive skin peeking through the sheer white.
I catch the way his gaze sweeps over me, lingering a moment too long on the shape of me beneath the wet gown. His throat bobs as he swallows, and then his eyes jerk away.
“I’ll light a fire,” he mutters, his voice rough, as if forced out against his will. He strides to the massive fireplace where the gargoyles watch us with hideous, bulging eyes, and sets to work stacking the logs.
I watch him in the low light, his broad shoulders hunched, his dark hair plastered to his skull, the ends curling tighter in the dampness.
“What was that back there?” I ask, my voice trembling from more than just the cold. “What happened to you?”
He pauses, half-glancing over his shoulder at me. “What do you mean?”
“Where do you go when you get like that?” I push, taking a step closer.
He turns back to the hearth, jaw tightening. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve seen your eyes turn black,” I insist, more firmly now. “I thought I imagined it, but I didn’t, did I? The same thing took you over last night.”
“Enough,” he growls, the sound more beast than man. He hurls a log into the fire with a violent snap and rises to his feet, towering as he rounds on me, his face carved in shadow. “What do you want from me, Amara?” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, but beneath it, there’s a thread of something raw. Something vulnerable. “Why do you torment me the way you do?”
I take a step back, confusion and hurt tightening in my chest. “ Torment you?”
“I didn’t ask for a wife,” he bites out, his tone fierce, but I see the flicker of anguish in his eyes. “My life was simple before you came here. My only thoughts were of the next battle, the next drink. But now—” He stops, chest heaving, and a muscle jumps in his jaw as he forces the words out. “Now I care about The Grove because you care about it. I care if you’re cold, if you’re hungry, if you’re sad. I care about every damn thing you care about.” He shakes his head, voice breaking on a bitter laugh. “I never wanted to, but I do. I tried to play my part, but every time I got too close to you, I had to push you away. I had to stop… stop before.” He takes a breath, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re stripped bare, filled with something that twists painfully in my chest. “Before I was undone by you, and lost control completely.”
My chest aches, but I recall the coldness of his words when he told them all to send me away
“You do not treat me like someone who cares.”,
“I care so much it feels like it’s ripping me apart, and I can’t—” He cuts off, a tremor running through him as he closes the distance between us. He reaches for me, then stops short, his hand hanging in the space between us, trembling. “Why, Amara?” His voice drops to a broken whisper, his gaze desperate and pleading. “Why do I care about you so much that it hurts?”
The room is silent, save for the rain pounding the stone and the wild hammering of my heart. I stare up at him, speechless, the air between us thick and suffocating.
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I whisper, my voice raw. “But if what you’re saying is true, you can’t keep pushing me away.”
Daed’s exhale is sharp, edged with frustration. “You haven’t exactly welcomed me with open arms either, wife.”
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words. “I know. So much has happened so fast. It feels like I haven’t had a moment to breathe, let alone make sense of the mess inside me. But I do feel something for you, Daed. Even when I wish I didn’t.”
My gaze lingers on him, drawn by a mix of longing and defiance. I reach for his face, my fingers aching to feel the hard, smooth planes of his skin. But he turns away, and the movement is a brutal severing, as if every stitch his words had woven in my heart tears open again.
“I can’t let myself fall for you, Amara,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “It would only bring you pain, and I’d rather die than be the one to cause it.”
His eyes flicker to the cut on my neck, and I see it—the anger flooding back into his gaze. His jaw tightens, and his hand hovers over the mark, fingers trembling.
“Arax should have been there,” he growls, low and dangerous. The heat from his body feels close, almost suffocating, but his hand remains suspended, just out of reach. “He must suffer for his failure.”
“No,” I snap, my voice harsher than I meant, the frustration of his constant push and pull finally boiling over. His moods hit me like whiplash, leaving me raw and reeling. Daed’s eyes lock onto mine, a mix of anger and confusion flashing in their depths.
“ You should have been there,” I press, my voice tinged with raw bitterness. “When you choose them to be, your words are passionate, fierce—but when I truly needed you, when it mattered most, you were nowhere to be found.”
His expression darkens as looms over me, rain trailing down his neck, dripping over the runes carved into his chest. His breath is hot against my cheek, and for a moment, it’s all I can focus on.
“When you called," he says, voice low, a storm brewing beneath it. “I came.”
But his words don’t chase away the memory of Modok’s filthy hands, the vile things he whispered in my ear—worse than any waking nightmare I've ever had. The feel of his grip on me crawls under my skin, and a cold shudder runs through me. I bite down on the whimper threatening to escape, tears burning at the back of my eyes.
“The things he said…” My voice trembles, but I force myself to stop before the tears fall.
Daed reaches for me again, his hands hovering, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His eyes are desperate, full of the same torment I feel, as if he’s aching to pull me into his arms. But again, he stops himself, retreating to the place he always does.
“I will kill him for this,” he growls, spinning away from me, his back stiff, his fists clenched at his sides. He faces the fireplace and grips the mantle. “And anyone who keeps me from him.”
“Your father won’t allow it,” I say softly, my voice steady even though my tears still threaten to fall.
“And anyone who keeps me from him,” Daed repeats, his voice thick with fury. He grabs a flint and steel from the mantle, striking them together over the wood in the fireplace until a spark ignites. He crouches down, the glow of the flame illuminating his intense gaze as he nurtures it, feeding it kindling and coaxing it to life.
Silence stretches between us until he finally speaks again, his voice calm but commanding. “You need to get undressed.”
The words make my pulse quicken and my stomach tighten at the thought, a flutter of nerves mixing with something else entirely.
“You’re soaked,” Daed says, more softly now, his tone almost concerned. “You already struggle to heal here. I don’t want you to get sick.” He jerks his chin toward the bed. “One of my shirts is there. Put it on.”
My eyes dart to the black silk shirt lying neatly on the edge of the bed. I swallow, my throat tight, every nerve in my body on edge. The rain may have chilled me, but the tremble in my fingers is from something else entirely.
Daed senses my hesitation. He turns fully, his broad back to me, muscles still tense. “Change,” he repeats, his voice low. “I won’t turn around until you tell me.”
I stand there for a moment, the weight of the decision heavy between us. My heart races, my hands shaking as I slowly drag the soaked nightgown over my head. The fabric clings to me, making it harder to pull off, and for a brief moment, I’m standing in the pale light of the moon, bare and exposed. My skin prickles, the air cool against me, but Daed doesn’t move.
True to his word, he remains still, his back rigid, as if he’s fighting something inside himself. I toss the nightgown to the ground and quickly grab his shirt, the fabric soft and smooth as I pull it over my arms and button it up.
But as I dress, a part of me wishes he would look. Just once. To feel his gaze on my skin, to know that he might want me the way I want him.
I swallow the thought as I finish buttoning the shirt, the silk clinging to my damp skin. I take a deep breath, trying to stand tall even though the cold still gnaws at me. My hands shake as I push my damp hair away from my face, clearing my throat.
“I’m finished,” I say, my voice barely more than a croak.
Daed turns, achingly slow, as though dragging out the moment is a deliberate torment. When his gray eyes finally meet mine, it feels like the world stills. His gaze starts at my bare feet, one stacked over the other to fight the cold, then moves upward, lingering on my knees pressed tightly together, traveling further to where his shirt hangs loosely at mid-thigh. He takes his time, as if every inch of me is his to study, as though it is his right to look as long as he wishes. His eyes trace my body beneath the fabric, and when he finally reaches my face, I hear him exhale, a breath he seems to have been holding for far too long, trying—and failing—to rein in his control. The effort shows in his gaze, which falters just enough to reveal how much I unsettle him.
The fire in the hearth has caught now, flames crackling and casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The storm rages outside, relentless rain beating against the stone, punctuated by the violent cracks of lightning that tear the night sky apart. Thunder rumbles like a threat, shaking the very bones of the fortress, but the only thing more unsettling is the intensity in Daed’s eyes. His face is half-hidden by the shadows, his chin dipped slightly as he watches me from beneath the heavy weight of his brow.
“Get into the bed,” he commands, his voice deep and rough.
The way he says it weakens my knees. A warmth spreads through me, unwelcome yet unstoppable, the heat clashing with the remnants of cold still clinging to my skin. My body betrays me, trembling under his command, and pressing my knees together only barely holds back the storm of desire that surges within me.
I glance at the bed—enormous and braced with four dark wood posts, intricately carved, with a midnight blue canopy billowing in the wind that seeps from the balcony. The blankets, deep blue like the night sky, are threaded with silver patterns, like stars, and dozens of silk pillows are scattered across the elaborately carved headboard. I hesitate, unsure if I can cross that distance.
Daed watches me, and I feel the weight of his impatience when I don't move. A low growl escapes him, and he steps forward, closing the distance between us. His hands hover over my shoulders again, and for a moment I think he’ll pull back like he has before—but this time, his fingers grip me. The warmth of his touch seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt, his hands solid and strong against my skin.
“You’re still freezing,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but no less commanding. “Get into the bed.”
When I don’t move fast enough, he begins to lose his patience. “Fine. If you won't move, I will.”
Without warning, he scoops me up effortlessly, and my hands instinctively loop around his neck. His scent—salt and wine—floods my senses, and despite everything, I feel safe, as though I’ve never been safer in my life. The warmth from his body seeps into mine, more potent than any fire, igniting something deep within me that I’ve tried so hard to ignore.
He carries me to the bed, and for a brief, stolen moment, our eyes lock. There’s something unspoken between us, something we can’t begin to understand. We are bound by forces neither of us asked for—him, with his indulgent, reckless nature, and me, clinging to a pious duty that frustrates him as much as his recklessness infuriates me.
But here, now, all of that fades away.
In the privacy of this room, with the storm howling beyond the walls, we are just two people—lost and aching to be seen. For once, we are not warriors, not rulers, not bound by responsibilities to anyone but ourselves. We are flesh, blood, and bone—desperate to be touched, to be desired… To be loved.
Daed lowers me onto the bed with such care, his fingers lingering on my skin. He pulls his hands away slowly, as though parting from me is a battle in itself. When his final fingertip slips from my arm, I feel the ache of its absence, the silent wish that he would return, that he would stay.
He tugs the blankets over me, pulling them up to my chin, his touch firm but gentle, and then steps back. He doesn’t say anything, just watches me, his gaze heavy with a tension that makes my heart race. The silence between us is suffocating, the air thick with possibilities. My mind races, wondering if he’ll come to me, if he’ll lie beside me, caress my face, hold me the way I’ve longed for. If we’ll fall into each other, giving in to the unspoken yearning that has haunted every shared glance.
But instead, he takes another step back. My chest tightens as I watch him retreat, lowering himself into a high-backed chair in the corner of the room. Shadows swallow him, leaving only the sharp outline of his strong form and the gleam of his eyes watching me from the darkness.
Disappointment hits me hard, sinking like a stone into my stomach. I feel it settle there, heavy and unyielding, but my pride refuses to show it. I turn into the soft embrace of the bed, the warmth of the covers finally easing the cold, but doing nothing to quell the ache in my chest.
He watches me still, a silent sentinel in the dark. Neither of us says a word, but the distance between us, though just a few steps, feels impossible to bridge.
My eyes grow heavy, the exhaustion weighing me down, and I manage to stutter out the words that have been lodged in my throat.
“Thank you,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “For saving me from Modok.”
A low growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating through the shadows as he leans back, his face disappearing into the darkness. “Whether you wish to be here or not, you are mine now," he says, his voice a slow burn of possession, "and I will protect you at all costs. I will slaughter any who dare treat you as less than a Mordorin queen.”
Thunder crashes outside, but the sound has become oddly soothing, blending into the rhythm of the rain and wind. It calms me in a way I didn’t expect, lulling me, though my thoughts remain tangled in the tension between us. This unspoken thing, whatever it is, grows stronger with every glance, every word exchanged. At first, it was only our bodies responding to the magnetic pull between us. Now, it's becoming something more, something deeper. The warrior I once doubted is slipping into a place where trust might soon follow, but there’s still so much unknown. So much about him I cannot yet give myself over to, no matter how fiercely my body yearns for him.
My eyes drift toward the fire, flames dancing beneath the portrait above the mantel—a beautiful Fae woman, her hands cradling her swollen belly, a serene smile playing on her lips. I must know who she is, the story she holds, but now is not the time. My eyelids grow heavier, and before I can think of it further, sleep overtakes me.
The last thing I see is Daed, still watching me, his gaze never wavering as I slip into dreamless darkness.