Chapter 6
Daed
After her. The scar on my palm stares back at me, a jagged, pale line carved into my flesh.
A cruel reminder of the night Amara became my wife.
I trace it with my thumb, feeling the ridges of old pain, and wonder how I ever thought I could defy fate.
Our marriage was never a bargain struck in desperation; it was destiny, written in the stars long before I first laid eyes on her.
But destiny is no kind force. It cares nothing for the lives it shatters, only that its plans unfold as ordained.
Even Amara being stolen from me was likely etched into some distant constellation, and for that, I damn the stars to the void.
Her scar is gone now. Her power to heal ensures no mark remains to mirror mine. Yet I’ve left enough scars on her heart to more than make up for it.
The ship rocks gently as it docks in the harbor of Ballamar City, the humid air clinging to my skin like a second layer.
The docks are chaos, a cacophony of creaking wood, shouting merchants, and the slap of waves against ship hulls.
The sharp tang of salt saturates the air, mingling with the earthy scent of dust kicked up by hurried feet.
Ahead, the streets simmer beneath a cloudless sky, the sun blazing mercilessly above.
Tall sandstone buildings rise, their timeworn walls smooth and bleached by heat.
Narrow alleys snake between them, shadows pooling in fleeting reprieve from the inferno.
I take a slow breath, letting the scene settle over me, wincing as vendors bellow their wares, their voices rising above the city’s relentless hum.
There is nothing like this in the Sundered Kingdoms. Every land across the sea is stranger than the last, but none have brought me closer to her.
Even now, with Reon’s flimsy leads, I fear this will only be another dead end, more precious time wasted.
Impatience and dread gnaw at me as I watch barefoot children dart through the crowds, painfully reminded that more than Amara is at stake.
I’ve been merciful so far, using tact and diplomacy to gather whispers of House Ithranor’s plans. But I feel that mercy slipping away. How much longer until I tear what I need from anyone I suspect of withholding it, until I leave broken bodies in my wake and drown my enemies’ cries in blood?
“Daed,” Reon’s voice interrupts, his firm slap on my back dragging me from the edge of my violent imaginings. “We’re looking for the Red Room. The Ithranor we seek are said to frequent it.”
I grunt. “The Red Room? Sounds like a brothel.”
When Reon doesn’t answer immediately, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I swear, if this is an excursion for your fucking cock…”
He shakes his head quickly, but the poorly hidden smirk twitching at his lips betrays him. “Of course not. It’s just… a happy coincidence.” He glances around the ship, his brow furrowed. “Where is your sister?”
I lift my chin toward the city sprawling before us. “Somewhere out there. Hopefully not getting into more trouble. I’m in no mood to clean up another of her messes.”
“Yes, it is strange that you are not the reckless one,” Reon remarks with a smirk.
“I cannot afford to be,” I reply, my tone firm. “Not when the world is mine to lose.”
His fingers curl on my shoulder, his grip steady and reassuring. “We will find her, Daedalus. If we have to search every land beyond the sea, we’ll bring her back to you.”
A faint grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.
Reon’s loyalty has never been in doubt. We’ve faced too much together, endured too many battles, for me to question his word.
He didn’t need convincing to leave Eyr’Drogul; he volunteered before he even knew the dangers we would face.
That kind of unwavering devotion earns a great deal of forgiveness, including his penchant for spending every quiet moment in the arms of some beauty.
Human, Fae, or otherwise. If those nights leave him sharper and stronger when he rises, who am I to begrudge him his indulgences?
The ramp slams onto the dock with a jarring thud, and we disembark with our heads bowed, cloaks and hoods draped over us in an attempt to blend in.
In this stifling heat, however, the layers do little but draw unwanted attention.
Sweat clings to my skin, and the air is thick, almost suffocating, as we step into the chaos of Ballamar.
At the rear, Orios and Solena walk in step, their fingers brushing in a fleeting, intimate gesture. When I glance back, Solena’s eyes meet mine, and we exchange polite, strained smiles before quickly looking away.
She didn’t hesitate to join me, much like Reon.
At first, I questioned what use a maid could be on a voyage across the seas, but after the Archdruid’s confession, I found her purpose and it has proven invaluable.
Solena is no longer just a maid; she’s the most critical member of my crew.
The long hours we’ve spent together have unveiled parts of her I never would have known otherwise, bound as we are by one undeniable truth: a shared love for Amara.
Orios, naturally, follows wherever Solena goes. His love for her is endless, and in exchange for his service, I have released him from his Reaper’s vow. If he wishes to claim her as his mate, he has my blessing. It is a small price to pay for the loyalty of such a formidable warrior.
Reon sidles up to me as we weave through the bustling streets. “That one still hasn’t warmed to me,” he says, nodding toward Solena. “There must be something wrong with her.”
“She has standards, Reon,” I reply dryly, earning myself an elbow in the ribs. “Besides, she’s with Orios. Why would she show you even a hint of interest?”
Reon shrugs, an easy grin tugging at his lips. “He hasn’t marked her yet. No bite, no claim. Until then, she’s an unclaimed female, is she not?”
I glance at him, unamused. “You might want to keep that sentiment to yourself if you’re fond of your balls being attached to your body.”
Reon throws a look over his shoulder at Solena, whose hooded face still manages to convey a sharp glare. He smirks. “I’d bite her in an instant. Feisty little thing. Seal the bond with teeth and flesh and blood.”
I can feel his gaze shift back to me, that telltale glint in his eyes, and I know exactly where this conversation is headed.
“Don’t start,” I groan, sidestepping a woman berating her children as they shuffle down the street. “I thought I’d have more time. I wanted to explain everything to her first.”
Reon frowns, his playful edge dimming. “You should’ve bitten her at the wedding. Got it over and done with. I’d have reminded you, but your best friend didn’t even make the guest list.”
I sigh, bored and weary. “We’ve been over this.”
“We have,” he says with a shrug, the grin returning. “But giving you shit is an excellent way to pass the time.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you’re worth the trouble.”
“You know I am.” His tone turns pointed. “Just like you know you should’ve marked her when you had the chance. Would’ve made finding her a hell of a lot easier.”
I shake my head, my jaw tightening. “I couldn’t. I’d already put her through so much.”
For once, Reon’s voice softens, a rare seriousness creeping into his words. “When we find her, Daedalus, will you tell her then? Or will there always be a reason to wait?”
I lift my chin, my voice firm with conviction. “I won’t waste another moment. I’ll tell her she’s my mate and I’ll bite her and never let go.”
Reon waggles a finger, his smirk sliding back into place. “Not too deep. Humans can be delicate, you know. Don’t want to tear out her jugular after all this effort.”
I grin despite myself. “She’s no ordinary human.”
His smirk falters, replaced by a contemplative look. “I’m beginning to see that.”
I barely take a step before a small body slams into me, a child, barely taller than my knees, clutching a sticky sweet on a stick.
He looks up, tongue still dragging across the candy, but the moment his eyes meet mine, he gasps.
It’s as if he sees past the hood and cloak, straight through to the monster beneath.
He stumbles back, his foot catching on a rock. The candy flies from his hand. But before either boy or sweet can hit the ground, they freeze mid-motion, suspended in the air like marionettes caught in time.
I glance at Reon beside me. He’s pointing a finger at the child, an amber light crackling at its tip.
With a groan, I step forward, grab the boy rigid as stone and set him upright. Then I snatch the candy from the air and place it carefully back in his hand, mindful I could snap his little digits straight off in this state.
When the moment is as it was, Reon clicks his fingers, and the sparks vanish. The boy blinks, his head whipping around, dazed and disoriented.
“Go,” I say sharply. “Away with you.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. One last lick of his candy, and he darts off into the crowd.
I scan the street, searching for any eyes that might’ve caught Reon’s display, but the people seem blissfully unaware.
“We’re trying to keep a low profile,” I mutter under my breath.
Reon shrugs. “What? My power’s like a muscle. I’ve got to stretch it. Besides, all I did was stop a kid from falling on his ass.”
I shoot him a dark glare, brow furrowing. He lifts both hands in mock surrender.
“Okay, okay. I get it. No time warps.”
We push deeper into the city, the salty tang of the sea fading into the stench of unwashed bodies, rancid gutters, and sour ale. The streets pulse with noise and movement, a chaotic tangle of vendors shouting over each other and the occasional yelp of a stray dog dodging a cart wheel.
In a shadowed corner, I spot a group of men clustered like flies over rot. Even from here, the rank mix of ale, sweat, and piss bites at my senses. If anyone knows where the Red Room is, it’s them.