22. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
T he smell of smoke wafts through the air, sharp and acrid, as Daed wrestles with the cast-iron skillet over the fire. I watch, concern and amusement bubbling within me, as he attempts to fry the eggs. They seem to be fighting against him, sticking stubbornly to the pan while he works hard to coax them into submission. His brow is furrowed in intense concentration, and beads of sweat form on his forehead, the morning light catching his black hair as it falls into his eyes.
“Just a little more heat,” he mutters to himself, his determination unwavering despite the ominous sizzle that fills the air.
“Daed,” I venture cautiously, “maybe we should just—”
“Sit, wife. I’m almost finished,” he says determinedly.
I bite my lip, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite my concern. “If you say so, husband.”
As he scrapes the eggs with the spatula, trying desperately to flip them, I can see the frustration etched on his face. He scoops the dubious mixture onto a plate, and I brace myself. I don’t want to hurt his feelings; after all, this is his earnest attempt at caring for me, and I appreciate the sentiment.
“Daedalus, are these eggs fried… or… or are they scrambled?” I ask, eyeing his offering that somehow looks burnt and raw at the same time.
Daed looks at me with a vacant expression. “Yes,” he replies.
Okay then. Taking a deep breath, I pick up my fork and stab at the gooey yellow mass that sits before me.
The first bite sends my taste buds into chaos—the burnt bits mix with an overwhelming saltiness that nearly makes me gag. I force a smile, chewing slowly as I search for something—anything— positive to say.
“It’s, um, definitely…unique!” I exclaim, striving for enthusiasm.
Daed’s face drops, his shoulders sagging as he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “You’re lying. They’re rubbish.” He tosses the frying pan into the sink with a clatter. “Come. Let’s get out of here. It smells horrible.”
We leave the castle and stroll through the gardens, continuing past the river until we reach an open field. Daed looks remarkably serious for someone whose eyes glint so beautifully in the sunlight.
“Are you still upset about the eggs?” I ask.
He grumbles in response.
“It was nice of you to try,” I say, hoping to ease his disappointment.
“You’d think the Commander of the Ebon Flight would know how to handle a chicken ovum,” he mutters.
“It was honestly not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”
He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Really?”
“Really.” I’m lying, of course. It was dreadful. But there’s no point in ruining the day over a bad egg. I haven’t seen this side of Daed—relaxed and unguarded—and I don’t want to scare it away.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
He tips his head thoughtfully. “There’s a small forest beyond the clearing. A stream runs through it—crystal clear. You can see the rocks at the bottom.” He pauses, noticing I’m staring at him. “I thought you might like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” I reply, closing my eyes and turning my face toward the sun, savoring its warmth. “I can’t believe this place exists within the Untold Sea. If I were you, I would spend every day here.”
Daed glances at me from the corner of his eye. “It’s not a place I think of often. There’s always somewhere to be, something to take care of. There’s never enough time.”
“But don’t you live forever?” I laugh lightly, but his expression remains stern.
“A longer life simply gives you more things to regret,” he murmurs.
“Surely there must be some good?” I ask, refusing to believe that such a gift can be so miserable.
“It never lasts,” he replies, his voice low and heavy.
I lean forward to catch his gaze, which lingers on his boots. “Then you’re doing it wrong.”
He raises an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
“There’s far too much beauty in this world to dwell on pain. Pain will always be there; it’s a constant. That’s why we must find that one thing that turns the night into day. A reason to welcome the sunrise.”
“And what is your reason, Amara?” he asks, his tone earnest.
The answer flows from me effortlessly. “Love,” I say, and the very sound drains the color from his face.
“Love for my people. Love for the earth. Love for the breeze that knows my name and the taste of fresh honey on my tongue.” I turn my face to the sun, letting its warmth envelop me. “Love for the feeling of sunlight on my skin.”
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t realize Daed is staring at me, his lips parted. The hunger in his eyes sends a rush of warmth to my cheeks, and I nervously tuck my dark hair behind my ears, turning my gaze forward.
“Sorry. I…”
“No,” he says urgently. “Don’t apologize. Everyone should be fortunate enough to see the world through your eyes. To feel as deeply as you do.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think anyone wants that.”
“I do,” he says quickly, causing me to jerk my head to meet his gaze. “My world is hard, cruel, and cold, Amara. So cold it feels like my veins are flooded with ice water. But you—your smile, your laughter, and the way you stand tall even in the face of pure malice—make me feel something.” He tilts his head slightly toward the sky, his eyes half-closed against the glare of the sun as he exhales. “Warm.”
Oh, how I want to touch him. I want to reach out my hand and add the caress of my fingers to the sun on his skin, to have the chance to warm him, too. When he breathes in my ear and speaks of hunger and desire, it ignites every nerve in me, sending surges of warmth to my core. But when he’s like this—bare and honest—it awakens something deeper. My heart aches for him.
“That seems like something worth welcoming the sunrise for,” I say, my voice soft as I gaze at him.
He turns to look at me, the breeze playing with his dark hair, sunlight catching the steel gray of his eyes in a way that makes my heart race. In that moment, time feels like it’s suspended. “It is not the only thing.”
I don’t realize we’ve reached the edge of the forest until the shadows of the towering trees wrap around us like a protective embrace. Daed steps forward first, and when I hesitate, he turns, extending his hand toward me.
As I take his hand, our fingers intertwine and the world around me fades into the background. The air is rich with the scent of earth and wildflowers, while sunlight filters through the lush canopy, casting dancing patterns on the soft undergrowth. A sense of peace washes over me, dispelling the weight of my worries. I forget the ship, the Stormwyrm, the haunting shadows of Baev’kalath, and the demons of my past. I forget Modok, Frane, and all those who would rather see me dead than on the throne. In this moment, all that matters is Daed. He is the only memory I want.
Within the walls of the forest, the trees grow tall and strong, the sun filtering through the leaves to dapple soft light upon the undergrowth abundant with moss and wildflowers. It is smaller than The Grove, no room for the rope bridges that sway between the gargantuan trees or the small houses nestled within the branches, and even though no Souls dwell here, I still feel the pulsating energy of the forest beneath my feet. I hear the whispers on the wind and the small conversations of the creatures darting through the long grass or hiding inside weathered logs. After not hearing it for so long, it’s almost overwhelming and when I stop to catch my breath, Daed pauses with me.
“Are you alright, wife?” he asks.
I nod with a smile on my lips. It’s not pain or discomfort, all these feelings, all these voices. It’s just a reminder of how much I miss my home.
Daed leads me to a clearing, and the stream he promised is just as he described: crystal clear water so translucent that the stones gleam at the bottom. I crouch by the bank, scooping my hand through the cool water, a delightful tingle racing across my skin. I bring my hand to my mouth, drinking deeply, and the purity of the water carries with it the echoes of the forest's memories.
Daed looms over me, his presence steady and watchful. “I remember that dress,” he remarks. “The last time I saw it, it was covered in blood.”
I look up, wiping the water from my lips. “And the last time I wore it, you were separating a man from his head.”
“I did what I had to,” Daed replies, his voice devoid of regret.
“So did I."
He drops into a crouch beside me. “Do you know what I thought when I saw you on the balcony?”
I turn my gaze back to the running water, reluctant to hear what he might say next.
“I thanked the Pale Eye for sending someone strong enough to survive Baev’kalath… someone brave enough to survive me.” Suddenly, his hand cups my face, his thumb brushing away a lingering drop of water from my bottom lip. “Someone so beautiful that I have been unable to think of anything else for weeks.”
“Daed,” I murmur, attempting to turn away, to escape the weight of his words, but he doesn’t let me. He gently turns my face back to his, back to the steel of his gaze.
“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to tell you.”
“Enough, Daed,” I interject, wrapping my hand around his wrist and slowly pulling him away. I am done with the sweet words that come and go like the wind. I need honesty, I need stability. I am teetering on the edge of a cliff and if he doesn’t grab me soon, I will fall. “I heard you in the room, Daed. I heard you tell them to send me away.”
A flicker of realization washes over his face, and his jaw tightens. “Did you ever think I was trying to save you?”
“From what?” I challenge. “From Modok? From Frane?”
“From me , Amara,” Daed admits, his expression wrought with emotion as if these words have been waiting to break free since the moment he first saw me on that balcony. “I am not a good man, and an even worse husband. I was trying to do the one decent thing I could for you—to set you free before I hurt you.”
“Did you do the same for her?” I ask, my voice trembling with the weight of the question that has haunted me, pressing against my chest until I struggle for breath.
Daed furrows his brow, confusion shadowing his features. “Who?”
I finally gather the courage to voice the question that has lingered for too long. “The Fae woman whose portrait hangs in your tower. Was she your wife before me?”
Daed’s chin drops, and he rises to stand, but I need to know. I rise with him, grasping his shoulders before he can turn away. There is nowhere to run here—not in this small piece of paradise.
“Was she your wife?” I press again, my heart racing. A lump hardens in my throat. “Did she carry your child?”
His eyes snap back to mine, his chest heaving as he struggles to find his breath. “No, she was not my wife. No, she was not carrying my child. She was my mother, Amara. Her name was Veloria.”
I grapple with the weight of his words, initially wanting to dismiss them as more lies meant to confuse me. But Daed continues, answering the unvoiced questions swirling in my mind.
“Lanneth is not my real mother,” he says, his tone hardening. “She is the woman my father married after my mother’s death.” A shadow passes over his features. “She was an Archdruidess once, but she had higher aspirations. Still, she is the only mother I’ve ever known.”
The relief I thought I would feel at discovering the Fae woman is not his wife is overshadowed by the deep sadness etched into Daed’s face, scars hidden beneath his skin. He grits his teeth, struggling to contain the sorrow threatening to spill over.
“It is my fault my mother died. I killed her.”
I shake my head, refusing to accept such a notion. I have seen his cruelty, witnessed his capacity for violence, but I cannot believe this man is capable of such an atrocity—especially now, as I begin to glimpse the light within him.
“I don’t believe you,” I state firmly.
“What you choose to believe doesn’t change the truth. She died giving birth to me.”
“Oh Daed, that isn’t your fault. You were just a baby. Childbirth is dangerous; it’s not something you could control.”
“Because I am here, she is not. What other way is there to explain what I did?” His voice trembles, and it’s almost too much for me to bear.
Now it is my turn to cup his face, rising on my tiptoes to reach him, but still he tries to turn away, as if too burdened by guilt to meet my gaze. I inhale deeply, trying to match the rise and fall of my chest with his.
“Do you know what I thought when I first saw you from that balcony?”
He doesn’t answer, his gaze distant, lost somewhere beyond the trees.
My thumb caresses his sharp jawline, and I sweep his dark hair from his brow, seeking a connection that feels just out of reach. “I thought this is the man who can protect everything I love. I believe that even more now than I did then, Daedalus.”
My words draw him back to the present. “Why?” he whispers, his voice low and heavy with pain.
“Love,” I reply, a smile warming my face. As the warmth of my words fills the space between us, I can almost feel the burden on his shoulders beginning to lighten. “You have loved and lost, prince. Only someone who has had their heart ripped from their chest can possess the strength it takes to protect others from that same agony. How fortunate I am to have the warrior prince as my champion.”
His hand moves atop mine, and he closes his eyes, leaning into my palm. “Amara,” he whispers, “I want to protect you…but there is so much you do not understand.”
“Then tell me,” I urge, the heat between our bodies drawing us closer.
“I want to,” he mutters, our lips tantalizingly close, the taste of his unspoken words lingering in the air. “But I cannot.”
“You must let me in, husband,” I plead, nearly begging. “I want to help you. I want to trust you. Please.”
He swallows hard, the lump in his throat a reflection of the turmoil between us. His eyes slowly open, revealing a storm of emotions, and he pulls my hand from his face, pressing it against my side as if giving back everything I’ve poured out to him. Anger flickers within me, mingling with sadness and that dull ache that fills my chest, leaving me feeling hollow.
“I will protect The Grove. You have my word,” he rasps.
Before I came to Baev’kalath, that was all I wanted from him. But now I selfishly desire so much more.
We return to the castle, the silence stretching between us, heavy and infinite. Each step feels like a weight, a reminder of the barriers that still stand between us. I want to be his light, to show him that tenderness can exist even amid darkness, but how can I do that if he refuses to let me in?
I remain in my room as the preparations for the Lover’s Eye celebrations unfold outside. The rich aromas of freshly baked bread, sweet treats, and roasted vegetables waft through my window, courtesy of Solena’s bustling kitchen. My gaze drifts to the dress lying on the bed—an offering from Solena, I’m sure, pulled from the depths of the wardrobe as a suggestion for tonight’s festivities. Unlike the heavy, beaded gowns I endured in Baev’kalath, this one is light and flowing, crafted from midnight blue silk that feels like pure bliss beneath my fingers.
Yet, I am not tempted to leave my room. My frustrations toward Daed linger, a stubborn weight that keeps me rooted in place. With one hand, he offers me everything—his protection, his desire, perhaps even fragments of his heart. But with the other, he pushes me away. I feel the ache of his loss, knowing all too well what it means to lose a parent without ever truly knowing them. If only he would let me in we could console each other, share our wounds and find solace together.
Laughter drifts up from the garden, Solena and Orios enjoying the moment, the clinking of glasses signaling that the wine is flowing. As the sun sets and the full moon rises, its silver light spills over the turbulent ocean, the sound of crashing waves in the distance enhancing the beauty of the night.
“Princess Amara!” Solena calls.
I ignore her at first, then again the second time, but by the sixth, frustration propels me to the window. I lean over the balcony to find her waving, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight, her low cut dress clinging enticingly to her form.
“What is it?” I grumble, arms crossed defiantly over my chest.
“What do you mean? It’s the Lover’s Eye! Come down and eat and drink with us.”
I shake my head firmly. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”
Solena narrows her eyes, that penetrating gaze seeing right through me. “Princess,” she says again, her tone now sharper. “I’ve prepared a delicious feast and found enough fine wine in the cellars to fill the ocean. Please join me.”
My stomach gurgles in protest, as if it, too, can scent the enticing aroma of spiced pumpkin. I glance down at the beautifully set table, draped in white linens, and see Orios lighting the lanterns strung between the trees, their soft glow suitably romanticising the scene. Daed is absent, and that’s the first thing I notice.
“Fine,” I call down. “But only because I’m starving.”
I’m always starving .
“Thank you, Your Highness!” Solena replies, and as I step away from the balcony, she adds, “Put on the dress.”
I stare at the dress for a while, torn between the idea of joining the festivities and the comfort of sinking beneath the covers. Eventually, I slip into the dress Solena has chosen, immediately noting how it mirrors the light and daring nature of her own attire. The back plunges almost to my tailbone, while the front sweeps across the tops of my breasts, leaving just enough to the imagination. The long, flowing sleeves are made of a sheer fabric that sparkles like stars against the midnight blue silk.
With my hair cascading over my shoulders, I head downstairs, joining them in the garden as Orios lights the last lantern.
When I reach Solena, her laughter rings out, warm and inviting, yet I notice her wine remains untouched on the table. Orios wraps his arms around her, burying his face in her neck and smothering her with deep, lingering kisses. A pang of jealousy twists in my stomach as I take a seat at the table and turn my gaze away. Solena tangles her fingers in his hair, giggling as his hand roams over her hips, and regret settles over me. Is this the sway of the Lover’s Eye? Does it turn people into lovesick fools who can’t keep their hands to themselves?
I cast my eyes upward to the full moon hanging heavily in the sky, its silver glow bathing the garden in ethereal light. I may not feel its pull, but I can sense the change in the air, the way its beams warm my skin. Still, it’s not the lust radiating from Solena and Orios. Perhaps as a human, I’m immune. But then my body ignites with shivers when I see him strolling across the garden, owning the shadows and the moonlight as if they were his adoring subjects. Why, no matter how much the man infuriates me, can I not escape this attraction that I know will be my undoing?
He wears a fitted dark tunic that clings to his broad shoulders and sculpted chest, the neckline partly open, revealing a glimpse of the intricate rune tattoos that trace across his skin. The silver embroidery glimmers in the moonlight, drawing my eye to his muscular frame.
His dark hair falls in tousled waves, framing his strikingly handsome face and accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw. The moment his steel-gray eyes find mine, I can't escape the pull he has on me, no matter how much he pulls me towards him, only to cast me aside in the same motion. The way he moves through the garden, every gesture imbued with a raw sensuality, leaves me breathless, and I feel as if I could melt into the very shadows he commands.
He doesn’t say a word to me, just sits across the table and pours himself a drink. I watch him, his usual brooding expression a little softer, but the flicker in his eyes unsettles me. There’s a tension in his shoulders, something restless in the way his fingers drum against the edge of his glass, the black runes on his chest pulsing like a heartbeat beneath his open shirt.
I drag my gaze away from him, focusing on the feast spread before us—but I feel his eyes burning through me, stripping me bare as they roam over my body.
I grab Solena’s glass of wine; she doesn’t appear to need it, and take a long sip, hoping it’ll dull the unease settling in my bones. The Lover’s Eye is said to stir the deepest desires of the Fae. It brings out their instincts, their needs, their passions. But as I glance across the table at Daed, I can’t help but wonder—if tonight he looks at me with desire, would it be his own? Or would it be the moon’s doing, pushing him toward something he doesn’t truly want?
Solena and Orios part long enough for her to retreat into the castle before returning with a cake, its surface glistening under the moonlight with the delicate sheen of honey. It’s adorned with small, bright berries that seem to glow like embers, and I notice the way Daed’s eyes linger on it for a moment before shifting to me. Solena sets it in the center of the table, her fingers brushing Orios’ as she pulls her hand away, and they exchange a glance that doesn’t even try to disguise their need for each other.
“A cake?” I ask, realizing it’s the first time I’ve spoken since I arrived.
“This is a Lover’s Eye tradition,” Solena says, cutting into the cake with a silver knife. “It stirs the heart.”
I think the moon is managing a good enough job of that on its own.
Her smile is coy as she slices a piece and places it in front of me. I glance at Daed again, but he remains silent, his gaze fixed on the cake as if it holds some secret meaning I’ve yet to uncover. He takes his own slice, but I notice his hesitation, just the briefest flicker of something in his expression.
I pick up my fork, cutting into the cake with a quiet sigh. It’s soft and warm, the taste of honey and berries coating my tongue. For a moment, it’s all I focus on, but soon a strange warmth blooms in my chest, then in my stomach. It’s slow at first, but then the warmth turns into something else, something almost too hot, and I feel my pulse quicken.
Around me, the laughter grows louder. Orios snakes his arms around Solena’s waist, pulling her closer, and she giggles against his lips as they kiss—soft at first, then deeper, the air between them humming with a palpable energy. I glance away, but I can’t shake the feeling spreading through me, the heat that’s suddenly making my skin flush.
“Are you alright, wife?” Daed’s voice cuts through the haze, and I look up at him, trying to mask the way my body feels, too warm, too heavy. His brow furrows slightly, and for a moment, I wonder if he feels the same.
“I’m fine,” I lie, though the heat is building, and I have to force myself to meet his gaze. His eyes hold something dark, something… hungry. But it’s not like before. This is different, and I realize with a sinking feeling that the cake must be responsible for the shift in me.
The warmth in my chest travels lower, a slow, pulsing throb I can’t control, and when Daed’s fingers brush against mine on the table, it sends a jolt through me. I pull my hand away, trying to steady my breath.
“It’s the berries,” he mutters, eyes narrowing at the plate before him. “They have… properties.”
“What kind of properties?” I ask, already knowing the answer, the heat growing unbearable as I shift in my seat.
He doesn’t answer right away, his jaw tightening before he looks at me again, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable now. “They stir desire. Fae use them… on this night.”
I feel my face flush even more, and when I glance over at Solena and Orios, they’re lost in each other, their laughter softening into whispered words and stolen kisses that leave me feeling even more out of place.
Daed watches me intently, his hand resting on the table, his posture rigid as though he’s fighting the same heat, the same pull. The Lover’s Eye shines above us, and I know the moon’s power, mixed with the berries, is complicating everything. My thoughts whirl in confusion—what is real between us, and what is nothing more than the magic of this night?
Orios and Solena rise from their seats, their movements fluid and effortless as they step into the moonlit garden. The laughter between them fades, replaced by something far more intimate. They twirl together beneath the glow of the Lover’s Eye, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm, every touch soft but charged with tension. Solena’s head tilts back as she laughs, her dark hair cascading like water while Orios pulls her close, his hands resting low on her hips, guiding her with a confidence that sends a flush of heat through me all over again. The way they move together is almost mesmerizing—sultry, seductive, as though the night itself is theirs alone.
I tear my eyes away, forcing myself to look anywhere but at them, but the tension in the air wraps around me like a net. Daed’s presence is heavy beside me, and I can feel his gaze lingering, the weight of it pressing against my skin. I risk a glance, and the look in his eyes is unmistakable—dark, intense, filled with a desire that matches the warmth swirling inside me.
“Amara,” he says, his voice low, “dance with me.”
My heart skips a beat. “I…”
Before I can refuse, his hand closes around mine, firm yet gentle, and in one smooth motion, he pulls me to my feet. His touch sends a shock through me, the heat of his palm igniting a fire that burns deeper than the warmth from the berries. The world spins for a moment as I stumble into him, my body instinctively leaning against the solid strength of his chest.
“I don’t know how,” I start to say, my protest weak, but Daed only smiles, that same infuriating half-smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll lead,” he murmurs, his voice like a caress, and before I know it, he’s guiding me forward, his arm slipping around my waist as he pulls me closer, our bodies moving in sync.
His hand rests against the small of my back, while his other hand cradles mine, his fingers wrapping tightly. The heat between us is undeniable, the soft music of the ocean and the moonlit night playing around us as our feet fall into a rhythm I didn’t even know I could follow. My pulse races as we sway together under the Lover’s Eye, the cool breeze mingling with the heat that radiates from him, the closeness making it impossible to ignore the magnetic pull between us.
I glance up at him, my breath catching as our eyes meet. His gaze is fixed on me, intense, almost predatory, and the throb of desire within me only grows, fueled by the berries, the moon, and the way his body presses against mine. Every part of him is tension, coiled and waiting, as if the dance is holding him back from something more.
“See?” he says, his voice like velvet. “You're a natural.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat, silenced by the way he looks at me, as if he could devour me whole and the worst part is that I want him to. Every last bite.