19. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
T he throne room is far quieter today. The lords have been sent home, warned to stay there on pain of treason—punishable by death. And there is one less Reaper in the line.
All because of me.
I might find it flattering to be such a thorn in their side, if only my life wasn’t constantly in danger.
I sit silently on my throne, head bowed, hands clasped tightly in my lap, uncertain of what this meeting will bring. Daed is beside me, sprawled across his throne with his legs spread wide, his gaze fixed forward. He has avoided me since the conclave and it seems as if he has no intention of speaking to me today either.
Kaelus sits on his throne, a fist pressed to his chin, lost in thought, while Lanneth stands behind him, her nails drumming a restless rhythm against the stone.
“It isn’t safe for her here,” she says, her voice tinged with an anxious edge. “Now, not only do the thrall houses threaten her, but even our own Reapers cannot be trusted.”
“Frane acted alone,” Orios says from the line, his voice hard. “Not a brother or sister among us conspired with her.”
Daed’s head snaps up, his jaw tight with fury. “Maybe you should all share Frane’s fate, just to be sure.”
“Now is not the time to thin our ranks when warriors are already scarce,” Kaelus growls, still deep in thought. His eyes narrow as he finally turns his attention to Lanneth. “What do you suggest, my queen?”
Lanneth’s gaze fixes on me, and I catch a flicker of something glimmering in the corner of my eye—a trace of her magic, perhaps—but it vanishes just as quickly, like it always does. “She should be sent away for a time until the thrall houses are dealt with.”
A strange surge of excitement runs through me, chased by a bitter hint of doubt. To be sent back to The Grove—my home, the only place I have ever wanted to return to since stepping foot on this craggy prison of a castle—it’s everything I’ve longed for. But things are not as simple as they once were. I glance at Daed, my husband, his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip as he stares blankly ahead. No matter how he fights it, I know he feels it too, the pull of something dangerous and desperate between us.
“To the Grove?” he asks, his tone dismissive as he flicks his gaze down to inspect his fingernails.
“No,” Lanneth says, and the word doesn’t wound me as sharply as I expected. “The Legion awaits her to return to use her against us.”
“Then where?” Kaelus rumbles, his brows knitting together.
“Pariseth,” Lanneth answers plainly. The word makes both Kaelus and Daed turn sharply toward her.
“Who will take her?” Daed asks, leaning forward now, his casual disinterest gone.
“Isn’t it obvious, boy?” Kaelus groans, exasperation creeping into his voice. “You will.”
Daed stiffens, and I see the tension tighten his jaw, a lump forming in his throat. “You may take a maid for Amara, and Orios as your personal guard for protection, but anything more will draw attention. And that is the very thing we are trying to avoid.”
Daed rises to his feet, his loose black shirt swaying at his hips. “Would it not be safer to keep her here in Baev’kalath, under the watch of the Ebon Flight with all its might to protect her?”
Lanneth's fingers slither over Kaelus’ shoulder, and he slams his fist against the arm of his throne, cutting through the tension with a single motion. “I have spoken, Daedalus. You leave for Pariseth tonight.”
Kaelus steps down from his throne, his boots echoing against the stone as he strides toward the edge of the dais. “Arax,” he commands, and from behind the wall of Reapers, Arax steps forward.
He drops to one knee, head bowed. “Yes, my king.”
“You have once again shown this great house how much we rely on your strength and wisdom. I hereby relieve you of your post as the princess’s bodyguard and reinstate you as a Reaper of House Mordorin. In the prince’s absence, you will serve at my side as we deal with these feuding thrall houses.”
Arax glances at me briefly, but quickly lowers his gaze. “I am honored, Your Majesty. But I have sworn to protect the princess.”
“You still shall.”
“But—”
“Arax,” Kaelus’s tone tightens, leaving no room for further protest. “This is not a request.”
Arax bows his head deeper. “Yes, Your Majesty. I live only to serve House Mordorin.”
Kaelus waves a hand, dismissing the room. “You may all go.”
The throne room empties with the scrape of footsteps and the echo of armor, until only Daed, the king, queen, and I remain. Lanneth steps forward, her long, willowy arms extending toward me, leaving no room to refuse as she takes my hands in hers, her grip tighter than necessary. She pulls me to my feet, her fingers coiling around mine like vines.
“This is for the best, daughter,” she says, her voice too smooth, too sincere. “We’ve failed to protect you twice in as many days, and if anything were to happen to you, this house would be lost.”
I force a smile, though the frustration simmers beneath my skin. I can’t decide if the queen is my ally or my enemy, and it grates on me more each day. When she thinks I’m not looking, I catch the same disdain in her eyes that the other Fae have for me—like I don’t belong here. But then there are moments like this, when she guards my safety so fiercely, I almost believe she truly wants to protect me.
Only Lanneth knows what’s going on in her mind, but I wouldn’t dare attempt to unravel her motives. That’s a web I’ve no desire to get caught in.
“My place is here, Father,” Daed protests, spinning on his heel to face the king, his back now turned to me. “Let Death Singer and I remind the houses of who they are dealing with. I am the Ebon Flight’s greatest warrior.”
“Which is exactly why you should be the one to protect your wife,” Lanneth cuts in smoothly, her voice sharp as glass. “Do you not care for her safety?”
Daed throws a sharp glare over his shoulder, eyes flashing. “Send her to Pariseth. Take every Reaper we have, send Arax himself, if you must. But do not send me .”
I flinch, trying to swallow the ache of his bitter words. It’s as if the promises he whispers to me in the dead of night mean nothing in the daylight. The same man who holds me close when no one is watching, once again, wants nothing to do with me.
Kaelus exhales a long, measured breath, his patience wearing thin. “Why must everyone test me today? Am I not king? Is my word not law?”
“Father,” Daed grinds out between clenched teeth, “I do not wish to go.”
Kaelus’ hand grips Daed’s shoulder and I see Daed’s head drop as he realizes the decision is final. “This bride of yours is the future of our house. There is nothing more important. Do you understand?”
Daed gives only a slight nod, his resistance crumbling as Kaelus strides past him, offering his arm to Lanneth. She takes it with a graceful motion, and together, they turn to me, dipping their heads in a rare gesture of respect.
“Have a safe journey, Amara,” Kaelus says, his voice steady but distant. “By the time you return, the houses will be united once more.”
The words hang in the air like a promise I no longer trust.
The king and queen leave, and the silence between Daed and me is vast enough to drown in.
“What is Pariseth?” I ask, keeping my tone sharp. I want facts, not excuses.
Daed doesn’t turn to face me, still chewing on the nail of his thumb. “It’s an island within our territory. It sits in the eye of a storm—deadly to anyone foolish enough to enter.”
“And that’s where you’re sending me for my safety?” I can’t help the bite in my voice, the disbelief.
He straightens at that, and for the first time, I catch a glimpse of his gray eyes as he glances over his shoulder. “The island within the storm is beautiful. More beautiful than anything you'll ever lay eyes on in the Untold Seas. Grass and…”
“Grass?” I snap, rising to my feet. “And what else?”
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips, cracking through the stony mask he wears. “Flowers. There’s a castle there. A sanctuary, used as a safe haven when needed.”
“I’ll go,” I blurt out, with the thought of grass between my toes and the softness of petals against my skin already overtaking my mind. “I’ll pack now.”
I move to pass him, heading for the stairs, but his hand closes around my wrist—gently, not like I expect. It catches me off guard. His chin dips to his chest, those dark, unruly curls hiding his eyes.
“Amara, when I said I didn’t want to go, I didn’t mean it to sound so…cold.” His voice is low, hesitant, as if unsure of his own words.
I pry his fingers from my wrist, forcing him to meet my gaze.
“I don’t care,” I say sharply, cutting through whatever excuse he’s trying to offer. “I’m done with your sweet lies—the ones you whisper when it’s just us and the moonlight.” I pull my wrist free, straightening my spine. “I’m going to Pariseth to feel the grass beneath my feet, and to hopefully have one day—just one—where Fae aren’t trying to kill me.”
I stroll across the cold stone of the throne room, every step heavy with the weight of Daed's eyes on me. He doesn't call after me or try to stop me, but even if he did, I wouldn’t listen.
Right now, I crave something far more than his lingering glances. If Pariseth has grass, then there is soil. If there are flowers, then there is sun. It may not be The Grove, but it’s the closest thing I’ve had in far too long.
I navigate the halls with ease now, lifting the hem of my dress to quicken my pace. When I reach my chambers, I freeze, no longer greeted by Arax’s familiar, stoic form or his ever-watchful gaze. I’m glad he’s been reinstated as a Reaper—it’s where he belongs, out in the courtyard, sparring, not standing outside my door. Still, his absence stirs a sadness within me, as if Baev’kalath has grown a little lonelier.
Inside my chambers, I pull the bell to summon Solena, who arrives promptly.
“I need help,” I say as I rifle through my wardrobe.
Solena’s curious gaze follows me across the room. “Are you alright, Your Highness?”
“I’ve never been better,” I reply, tossing dresses over my shoulder. “I leave for Pariseth tonight.”
“Pariseth!” Solena gasps, her excitement feeding my own.
“Help me pack,” I instruct. “I suppose I can take a trunk on the ship.”
A giggle escapes her, stifled behind her hand. I arch an eyebrow. “Something amusing?”
She shakes her head quickly. “You can’t sail to Pariseth, Your Highness. The storm will tear a ship to pieces. You’ll have to fly. You’ll need to pack light—your Blades can carry a satchel or two on their backs.”
“There are no Blades,” I correct, turning back to my wardrobe. “It’s just Daed, Orios, and myself.”
Solena’s head snaps up. “Orios? For how long will you be gone?”
“The king didn’t say,” I reply, the uncertainty lingering in the air as I continue sorting through my things.
Solena falls silent for a moment, and I realize she’s likely dreading their time apart, even if their love is confined to fleeting moments in the shadows. Pausing my frantic rifling, I turn to face her. “I’ve been told I need to take a maid. I think it should be you.”
Her eyes widen, and a breath catches in her throat. “Me, Your Highness?”
I shrug, as if I can’t see the happiness simmering beneath her skin. “Yes, you. Who else would it be? But be warned: it’ll just be the four of us—alone—on an island that’s impossible to reach.”
Watching Solena struggle to stifle her blossoming smile amuses me.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” she breathes, her voice a mix of disbelief and joy.
“You can thank me by helping me pack,” I reply with a smirk.
“Of course!” Solena hurries to my side, burying herself alongside me in the wardrobe. She stretches to reach the very top shelf, pulling down two leather satchels. We both lean in, pinching our chins between our fingers as we survey the layers of lace and silk.
“Not even one of these dresses will fit in that bag,” I say. “I can’t just take one ball gown.”
A thought crosses Solena’s mind, and she reaches deep into the back of the wardrobe, emerging with several neatly folded items, along with something wrapped in brown paper.
“What are those?” I ask, curiosity piqued.
“Trouser and tunics,” she replies with a smile. “They’ll fit and you should wear them for the journey.”
I furrow my brow. “Are you telling me these have been here all along while you kept shoving me into those dresses?”
“You couldn’t very well wear these to banquets,” Solena defends herself. “And if you need something a little more flowy…” She pulls the string on the parcel, and the paper falls away, revealing the dress I wore when I boarded the ship to Baev’kalath.
I trace the delicate gold stitching along the edges, recalling the night my sisters gifted it to me, their voices wishing me well. It feels like a lifetime ago.
“Will these do, Your Highness?” Solena’s voice pulls me from my reverie.
I nod, with an appreciative smile. “Yes. They’ll do just fine.”
Solena moves briskly, packing my bags and placing them at the foot of the bed. “You must be excited to spend time alone with the prince, after everything that’s happened these past few days.”
I swallow hard, my throat tightening. “If only things were that simple between us.”
“Perhaps he’s looking forward to it, then,” Solena offers, her tone light.
I shake my head, a bitter scoff escaping. “I doubt it. Daed has made it clear that he prefers the company of others. For the longest time, I thought it was you warming his bed at night… or maybe one of the other maids.”
Solena’s movements still. She takes a deep breath before speaking. “You shouldn’t put stock in gossip, Your Highness. But I should have silenced those rumors when they first started. The truth is, I was unsure of you back then.”
“What rumors?” I ask, my curiosity flaring.
“Prince Daedalus has never shared his bed with a maid here in Baev’kalath, or anywhere else, as far as I know. In fact, he’s had no contact with any women in years.”
My head jerks up, disbelief clear on my face. “Then why did the maids say otherwise? Why did Daed himself…” I stop short, unwilling to reveal the humiliation of being told by my own husband that I didn’t entice him. “I just assumed,” I finish weakly.
“There’s no need for assumptions,” Solena says, her voice steady. “I can assure you, there is no one else.” She leans in, her expression softening with a wry smile. “The help always know, Your Highness. Will that be all?”
“Yes. Thank you, Solena,” I manage.
She backs toward the door, head bowed, then quietly closes it behind her. She likely doesn’t realize the merciful relief she’s given me—relief I wish had come much sooner.
For now, I cannot allow Daed to plague my thoughts, which seems fitting, as he’s wasting no time thinking of me. The prospect of touching soil and grass again, feeling the sun on my skin, feels like a sweet escape from the uncertainty he offers. Away from Kaelus and Lanneth and this dreadful place, I might even start to feel like myself again—regain color in my cheeks and not constantly crave sleep.
“You cannot go.”
The room grows cold, shadows closing in until I feel their weight surrounding me. In the corner, a dark figure undulates, gliding across the stone like smoke.
“No. Not now,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “No imagining things right now, Amara.”
“I am the bones that rattle beneath the stone. I am not here, yet I cannot leave. If you go to Pariseth, your fate will be the same.”
“If I go to Pariseth, the king and queen promise I will be safe.”
“You are not safe anywhere the prince is. He will be your ruin.”
I square my shoulders and stare down the figure, forcing my voice steady. “If you want to help me, why don’t you do something other than whisper cryptic messages? How can I trust you are truly on my side?”
“I have never claimed to be your friend Amara. Baev’kalath is a dark place, full of dark things, and I am no better. But only death waits for you here. You must feel it.”
The words turn my blood to ice. “Of course I do. But there is no escape.”
“Awaken, Amara Tyne. You must awaken.”
“I don’t know what that means!” I shout.
Suddenly, an image slashes through my mind, bright enough to blind me. I stumble forward, bracing myself against the bed as my eyes squeeze shut. It lasts less than a second, but it’s burned into my memory—the portrait of the pregnant Fae hanging above Daed’s fireplace. My eyes fly open.
“Wait. Do you know who that woman is?”
But when I search the shadows for the apparition, it vanishes, leaving me alone with my unanswered questions. I clench my fists at my sides, fighting against the urge to wish it all away. I cannot let Baev’kalath drive me mad; I refuse to let it claim victory over me. The ghosts that roam these halls must be figments of my imagination. I must keep telling myself that.
I spend the afternoon in my room, pretending not to glance over at Daed’s tower. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, despite my desperate attempts to stay awake. When I awaken hours later, the moon hangs high in the sky, and relief is nowhere to be found. Cradling my head in my hands, I breathe through the familiar ache. I hoped the headaches had ceased, but it appears not. A glass of water helps a little, and I step onto my balcony, taking in the pitch-black sky as rain pours down in steady sheets.
“Good evening, wife,” Daed says, and I turn to see him crouched on the railing, his wings folded neatly behind him, rain glistening on his brow.
“I’d prefer you use the door,” I reply, choosing not to look at him again.
Instead, I hear the soft thud of his boots as he jumps down, striding towards me. He joins me beneath the eaves, and even as I try to ignore it, I feel the magnetic pull of his presence.
“Are you looking forward to our trip?” he asks, his voice smooth and teasing.
“Well I know you aren’t,” I snap, my irritation flaring as he paces behind me. “I’m surprised you haven’t disappeared to avoid it altogether.”
“I’ve had time to make peace with being exiled with you,” he replies, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
My face tightens with frustration. “How very gracious of you, husband.”
He steps into my chambers and exhales, glancing around. “It looks like the servants did an excellent job scrubbing the Mor’Thravar blood from your floor. Though I see they’ve replaced the rug.”
The rug was the first thing that caught my eye when I returned last night, exhausted and shaken after Frane threw me off a cliff. I finally turn to face him as he paces the room, arms crossed over his chest.
“Yes, you’d never know someone was decapitated in here,” I reply with a hint of sarcasm, prompting a throaty laugh from Daed.
“They released Modok, you know,” he says abruptly, the laughter fading from his voice. “Nyraxes took him back with her when they returned to Mor’Thravar.”
“I’m not surprised,” I reply, lingering just outside the archway. “Your father made it clear they need his house.”
Daed studies me, curiosity etched on his features. “And what do you think about that, wife?”
“It infuriates me,” I snap, my anger bubbling to the surface. “I wish he were dead. I wish you had killed him.”
His eyes flash, and he seems to absorb the tension in my voice.
“But I also know that if he aligns with your Ebon Flight, The Grove will be safe—and that is all that matters.”
He sighs, feigning boredom. “Do you never grow weary of putting others before yourself, Amara?”
“Do you ever tire of thinking only of yourself?” I retort, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.
Daed smiles, his canines glinting in the dim light. “You continue to fascinate me.”
I shake my head, determination hardening my expression. “I won’t engage in this with you tonight, Daed,” I say firmly. “I’m not a toy for you to play with whenever you’re bored and then discard when you lose interest.”
“Oh Amara,” he laughs, tilting his head slightly. “We haven’t even begun to play.”
Suddenly, the doors open, and I gasp as the wind rushes in, breaking the spell of Daed’s gaze. Orios stands tall, fist pounding against his chest.
“We’re ready to leave for Pariseth,” he announces.
“Excellent,” Daed replies, gesturing toward my bags at the foot of the bed. “Gather the princess’ things and let’s take to the air.”
“From here, Your Highness?” Orios asks, motioning toward the balcony.
“My wife prefers I use the door,” Daed sighs, his smirk irritating me as I roll my eyes. “We’ll depart from the courtyard.”
Orios bows. “Yes, Your Highness.”
As Daed exits the room, Orios moves to collect my bags, standing by the door, waiting for me to pass.
“Princess Amara,” he says, his voice low enough to avoid attracting attention.
I pause and turn to him. “Yes?”
Orios removes his helmet, revealing a hard, rugged jaw and long black hair knotted into a bun at the back of his head. “Thank you for bringing Solena. But know that my duty is to protect you and the prince, and she will not distract me.”
“That’s a lie,” I sigh, watching as his chin drops. “But I won’t be watching you, so whatever you and Solena choose to do—or not do—in Pariseth is your business.”
Orios lifts his chin, his eyes brightening as a smile blooms on his face. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I take another step forward, but Orios coughs, halting me once more.
“Yes?”
His smile fades, replaced by a seriousness. “I also want you to know, Princess, that I meant what I said in the throne room today. I had no knowledge of Frane’s intentions. If I had, I would have stopped her myself.”
I take a deep breath, a frown creasing my brow. “Another lie?”
“No,” he replies sharply, the bite in his tone startling me. “There may be centuries of history between our kinds, but Prince Daedalus has made it clear that you are his wife, and that commands the respect of all Mordorin.”
It is crucial for my self-preservation that I show no weakness or vulnerability to the Fae; they will use it against me if I do. I keep my lips pressed into a straight line and nod my head.
“Is there anything else, Orios?”
“No, Your Highness,” he replies, dragging his helmet back over his head. “Shall we depart?”
I nod and continue down the halls, weaving through flickering torchlight until we arrive at the courtyard. The waves surge below us, crashing against the rocks in their relentless dance of strength. Daed stands at the edge, arms stretched wide as the rain pours down and sea foam splashes against the wall at his feet. He turns to me, a crack of lightning illuminating his figure as his wings burst from his back.
“Wife,” Daed calls, extending his arm toward me. I find myself moving to him instinctively, unable to resist the pull he exerts.
His hand envelops mine, lifting me effortlessly to the edge as his wing curves protectively over my head, sheltering me from the rain.
“I will carry you all the way there,” he says, his voice a deep, warm sound that caresses my senses. “You will be in my arms as we cross the storm, and you will be in my arms if we fall to it. Do you understand?”
His words reverberate through me, igniting a fluttering warmth in my chest. I look into the depths of the storm swirling in his eyes, my gaze drawn to his mouth as he exhales, his chest heaving with intensity.
“Yes. I understand,” I manage to say.
With that, Daed sweeps me up, and that’s when he notices the serpentine vine cradled in my arms.
He cocks an eyebrow. “You’re bringing that?”
I shrug. “I can’t leave her here alone.”
Daed shakes his head, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “Fascinating.”