Chapter 14 #2
I don’t reply. I don’t indulge her. Zyphoro wants a reaction, craves the sport of getting under my skin. But I won’t fill her boredom with easy bait. Not when Driftspire sails the skies above us.
The arrival of Solena and Orios is timely, though neither of them meets my eyes. The air between us turns thick, awkward. I cut through it.
“Let’s collect Reon and get back to the ship. This has been a complete waste of time.”
“Where is Reon?” Solena asks, her voice quiet, her gaze darting to her boots the second I meet it.
“Hopefully, just where I left him. In Lady Marlayna’s bed. I’m in no mood to go searching for him.”
By the time we leave the inn, the streets are already alive. Awnings unfurl, shading stalls nestled between the towering sandstone buildings, while a cloudless sky and a blazing sun promise a blistering day ahead.
We weave through the chaos, dodging wagons brimming with fruit and vegetables, sidestepping vendors who bark at us to clear the way as they push wheelbarrows stacked with fresh-caught fish, some still gasping for breath.
The desperation in their round, glassy eyes lingers with me long after they vanish into the crowd.
Only the enormous domed estate of House Taramethos and Lady Marlayna stands untouched by the morning frenzy, as if it exists solely in the realm of night, thriving in darkness and abandoned by daylight.
When we climb the steps, we find the door ajar, the menacing guards of the previous night nowhere in sight.
A long creak echoes as I push it open, my eyes adjusting from the blinding sun to the ballroom shrouded in shadow.
Heavy curtains are drawn, though thin slivers of light break through in places, illuminating the aftermath of excess.
The once-vibrant obsidian dance floor lies empty, goblets strewn across the floor, platters abandoned with only a few stray grapes and scraps of last night’s indulgence.
But the silence. Gods, the silence.
It is as if we have stepped into a tomb rather than a place where hundreds of Fae had danced, drunk, laughed, and fucked in a decadent display of indulgence.
I glance up the grand staircase, then back at my companions. I signal to Orios, a silent understanding that I will go first, and he will follow. He straightens his shoulders, offering a nod in return. Solena and Zyphoro linger near the entrance as Orios and I ascend.
Still, not a soul in sight. No guards, no lingering revelers slinking away in the harsh light of morning. Only silence. We move deftly, our steps ghosts upon the wooden floor.
We pass the slightly open door of the parlor, and in the sliver of space, I catch the glint of the mirror.
My head snaps away before I can see more. The movement is sharp enough that Orios shoots me a questioning look. I do not offer him an answer. I keep moving, approaching the door where I left Reon to do his work on my behalf.
Again, no guards.
A slow, creeping dread curls through my gut, tingling at my fingertips.
Then a creak. Floorboards shifting beneath a weight that isn’t mine or Orios’.
A muffled groan follows.
I press a hand to Orios’ chest, halting him.
He turns to me, but I shake my head. A silent command.
Not another step.
But my instincts flare embarrassingly late.
The doors to Marlayna’s chambers swing open, revealing Reon on his knees, a gag tied tightly around his mouth. His captors flank him, one with a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, the other pressing the sharp edge of a sword to his throat.
“Good morning,” Lady Marlayna greets, lounging on a chaise, draped in a silk robe, swirling wine in the bottom of her goblet. “For a moment, I thought you wouldn’t come to reclaim your friend.”
A rush of wind stirs at my back, my instincts screaming just as I glance over my shoulder. More of them. A dozen Taramethos Fae filing in, Zyphoro and Solena in their grasp, each held still by a blade at their throats.
Marlayna sighs, tipping her head back against the chaise. “This feels too easy,” she muses. “Not that I’m complaining, but I was hoping for more of a challenge. A little struggle. Maybe even a bit of bloodshed.” Her gaze flicks lazily toward me.
“Here, in this human world, we Fae can do as we please. No punishment. No consequences and I must admit…” She smiles, slow and sweet, the kind of smile that curdles the air between us. “I have done truly horrible things to the people of Ballamar in the name of boredom.”
My fingers twitch at my sides.
“In the Sundered Kingdoms, under House Mordorin, we wouldn’t have dared step a toe out of line. We all knew the punishment the Mordorin prince would exact on those who displeased him.” She exhales wistfully. “Another thing I miss, I suppose.” Then, a sigh. A shrug. “What a disappointment.”
I grind my teeth, the rage barely caged behind them. Careful. One wrong move, and Reon, Solena, Orios Zyphoro are all dead.
“This is unnecessary,” I growl, forcing steel into my voice. “We mean you no harm. I did not come to exact any punishment. I only wanted the mirror, and I met the terms of our bargain.”
Marlayna’s languid gaze drifts over Reon’s bare torso, and my stomach twists. Bruises bloom across his fair, freckled skin, scratches raking down his ribs. One eye is swollen and darkening, his lower lip split, a smear of dried blood crusting at the corner of his mouth.
“I had rather hoped to know what a Mordorin prince felt like between my thighs,” Marlayna muses, dragging a finger along the rim of her goblet, “but your substitute proved to be an… enthusiastic bedmate.”
Reon’s jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring, but he says nothing. Marlayna takes a sip of her wine, savoring the taste with a smack of her lips before lifting her gaze back to me.
“But I’ve decided I desire more from our arrangement. A husband.”
My brow furrows. “You wish to marry Reon?”
Marlayna laughs, rich and honeyed, and even in his perilous predicament, Reon frowns at her amusement.
“You, Daedalus,” she purrs, her smile curling like a cat’s tail. “I want you. We will return to the Sundered Kingdoms as king and queen.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh, sharp and cold, and for the first time, Marlayna looks foolish.
“And what kingdom do you think we’ll return to?
” I ask, voice laced with quiet mockery.
“The Sundered Kingdoms is in chaos. The human rebellion holds the mainland. The thrall houses of Mordorin squabble amongst themselves. Half of them remain loyal to me. The rest would rather see me dead than welcome me home.” I tilt my head.
“You think returning with a Taramethos traitor who fled the war on my arm will change anything?”
Marlayna’s confidence falters, just a flicker, a single heartbeat of hesitation, but I see it.
“I have enough warriors of Taramethos to force them to kneel,” she snaps, though the bite in her voice is dull, worn down to little more than a chew.
I let my gaze sweep across the room, across her so-called warriors.
“Fae they may be, but if all they have done these long years is torment the fruit vendors and fishermen of this shithole, I doubt they will be much of a match for what awaits them across the Untold Sea.”
Marlayna’s lips press into a thin line, but I see the crack in her poise, the way her nails dig into the silk of her robe.
“Do not underestimate me, Daedalus,” she hisses. “Rourke underestimated me to his peril. You will do as I command.”
And that is her fatal mistake.
“You dare spit orders at me?” The words leave me in a low, rumbling growl, curling through the stale air like a storm on the verge of breaking.
“You dare think yourself worthy to stand at my side?” I step forward, and the shadows at my feet slither in response.
“You dare believe you are beautiful enough to capture my eye?” My voice darkens, and so does the room.
“You dare think yourself strong enough to tame my heart?”
The last sliver of light is swallowed as the darkness rushes in.
I can taste their fear, sharp, metallic, intoxicating.
The air hums with it, thick and suffocating, pressing in from all sides.
I hear the hard swallows, see the way their skin prickles beneath the weight of what dwells inside me.
It surges hot and feral through my veins, something I have fought to keep buried for so long.
Too long. The darkness of the void, the immeasurable power, the sheer exhilaration of walking hand in hand with death. Of being its master.
Smoke unfurls from my fingertips, shadows curling, waiting, pleading for release.
“You are not her,” I breathe, my vision laced with darkness. “You will never be her.”
“Daedalus.” Solena's voice reaches me as if from a great distance, though she stands just behind me. A beat. A sharp inhale. Then firmer, more urgent. “Rook.” A snap of my name, meant to pull me back. “Don’t. He will find you.”
I know what she means. I know what she fears. But the hunger, the need, is too strong. The power sings to me, calls me home. For the briefest of moments, I consider giving in. Consider letting it consume me. The freedom of it. The raw, unrelenting force of what I am.
Across the room, Marlayna rises from her chaise, every movement controlled, every inch of her fighting to maintain composure. But I see the flicker in her eyes, the swallow that betrays her fear.
“Very well then,” she murmurs, voice carefully measured even as her throat bobs. “If you will not see reason, then I will take your head back to the Sundered Kingdoms instead and claim your throne for myself.”
My chin dips, and a low, mocking chuckle spills from my lips.
“No, Lady Marlayna,” I murmur. “The only thing claimed today will be your soul.”
Marlayna’s cry rings out like a bell of war. “Kill them!”
Steel glints in the dim light as Reon’s captors move to sever his throat, but they are far too slow.
Darkness uncoils from my fingers like serpents, striking with ruthless precision.
One Fae is ripped from his feet, sent crashing into the wall with a sickening crack, his body crumpling like discarded parchment.
The other barely has time to blink before the tendrils latch onto his wrist. A sharp pull, a wet, tearing sound.
His sword arm is severed at the elbow, the blade clattering uselessly to the floor as a spray of crimson arcs through the air.
The blood splashes across Marlayna’s face, staining her silk robe in violent reds. She gasps, stumbling back, her perfect features twisted in a grotesque mask of horror. But she doesn’t remain still for long.
I watch, frozen, as the blood splattered across Marlayna’s chest writhes unnaturally, like it has a life of its own.
It hardens into jagged crimson needles, and with a deafening scream, they rip through the air toward me, faster than I can conjure a shield of smoke to protect myself.
The deadly projectiles are mere inches away when time suddenly shudders to a halt.
My gaze locks onto Reon, still kneeling on the floor, his captor’s blood staining his freckled face. His hands tremble as he molds a golden orb of glittering light, and as his power warps time, everything around us slows, becomes a blur, while we remain untouched by the suspension of reality.
Zyphoro and Solena slip from their captors’ reach. The soldiers stand paralyzed, reduced to trembling, sluggish statues. Blades droop uselessly from their hands as Reon’s power drags them down, turning flesh and bone to stone.
“Disarm them, Orios,” I command, my eyes still fixed on Marlayna, frozen in the moments before the needle-thin blood can pierce me.
This is what it feels like to be at the mercy of time itself.
To know what is coming, to feel its inevitability, but to be powerless to change it.
I imagine this is what it is like for Emranth, how he can play with me, slow me, make me feel like a toy in his hands.
But Reon’s is not as powerful. His power is specific, localized, and fleeting.
It won’t last long. I can already see the strain in his jaw, his muscles taut as he holds the orb, exerting every ounce of his strength.
I step closer to Marlayna, watching as her eyes water, her breath ragged, each inhale a struggle against the invisible force pressing against her chest. The hunger within me stirs, dark and insatiable. The beast of the void whispers, urging me to take control, to feed.
Orios moves swiftly, peeling back the numb fingers of the Taramethos guards and disarming them.
I tower over Marlayna, watching as her mouth twists with words she cannot speak.
“Pathetic Fae,” I growl, my voice guttural. “Your House should have stayed lost. At least then, you would have lived on. But for your vanity... for your disrespect... I will end your line. The name Taramethos will be forgotten by time, and you, Lady Marlayna, will be remembered by no one.”
I lean in close, my breath hot against her ear, my voice dripping with venom. “His teeth will be the last thing you see before they devour you.”
“Rook,” Orios calls from behind me. “What should I do with them?”
“Kill them. Kill them all,” I command, my voice morphing into a deep, otherworldly resonance. A chorus of a thousand voices that is no longer entirely mine.
Orios hesitates. “Like this? But they cannot fight back.”
“Then it will be easy,” I snap, my eyes dark with fury.
I close my hand around Marlayna’s throat, smoke weaving through my fingers, as Death Singer calls to me.
It has been too long since I’ve felt its weight, since I’ve heard the dark hum of its power vibrating through my veins.
But this time, the darkness that fills the room is not just the shadows I summon.
My eyes roll over black as I feel the steel solidify in my hand, the familiar coldness of the blade taking shape, the power thrumming through my fingertips.
House Taramethos stands frozen, their helpless eyes pleading, but their fate is already sealed.