A Bargain of Smoke and Vines

29. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

I never believed this day would come. That I would be on a ship, sailing toward a home I thought I’d never see again. Yet, as I sit here, my joy is tainted.

Daed. My dark prince. My husband. My betrayer.

I don’t want to believe anything Lanneth said, but her words cling to me, haunting the corners of my mind. He wasn’t there when I needed him. And though I try to deny it, there are questions swirling in my head, questions I can’t answer, no matter how hard I try.

But still, despite everything, my heart aches for him. Souls, how it aches. Not only has Daed betrayed me—he has betrayed my heart. The heart that foolishly made me care for him. The betrayal cuts deeper than I ever imagined.

I wince as I sit in the chair, my back throbbing from absorbing Zyphoro’s wound. She lies asleep on the cot, her breathing shallow, while Solena carefully sets my broken fingers. I glance at my hand, recalling how I healed myself against Gygarth, how the green light had surged through me. I still don’t understand it. Until I do, I’ll have to heal the old-fashioned way. Now that I’m free from Baev’kalath and the rituals of the demon’s worshipers, I should recover. Although the weight of Ashen weaved through my hair is putting a crick in my neck. It appears to be his new favorite place to hide and sleep.

“Do you know who she is?” I ask, gritting my teeth as Solena sets the second finger.

“No,” Solena replies, her voice low, cautious. “But Arax has seen many more dawns and dusks than I have.”

“He won't say,” I mutter, frustration creeping into my tone. “Claims it's not his place.”

“Then you'll have to wait for her to tell you,” Solena says, which only deepens my irritation. “But she’s powerful—no question about that. I’ve only ever seen one other with abilities like hers.”

I nod, the name heavy on my lips. “Daedalus.”

Solena’s hands still for a moment, but then she resumes her work. “Yes.”

“Does that mean she’s infused with the void as well?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Solena sighs, a shrug barely visible as she finishes with my fingers. “I do not dare to presume the workings of the void. But to my eyes, that is how it seems.”

I watch her tidy up the bandages and splints, her head hanging low. There’s a quiet sadness in the air around her, one I can’t ignore.

“You’re unhappy to be here?” I ask softly.

Solena looks up, a half-smile tugging at her lips, but her eyes betray her. “I fear I will never see Orios again.”

Her pain weighs on me like a burden I can’t lift. Guilt gnaws at me, the realization sinking in deeper than before. “I’m sorry, Solena. I should never have dragged you into this.”

She shakes her head as she heads for the cabin door. “No, don’t be sorry. I came of my own accord. And though I may not be awakened like you, for the first time, I feel alive. I’m glad to be here with you…” She pauses, her smile blooming like the first warm light after a storm. “With my friend.”

Her words are a balm I hadn’t realized I needed, a warmth that reaches deep into the cold places inside me. Solena will never know just how much I treasure them.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” she says softly. “The ship seems to know its course, and the weather is stable. We should reach land soon.”

“Thank you, Solena,” I murmur as she closes the door behind her.

I force myself to my feet, every muscle protesting as I make my way toward the cot across from Zyphoro’s. She sleeps soundly, her chest rising and falling with each steady breath. Her body heals while mine aches with the strain of mending her wound. I know I must sleep to recover, but something catches my eye—something glimmering beneath the deep neckline of her vest.

My heart stutters in my chest. I would know that glow anywhere.

I carefully reach down, not wanting to disturb her, holding my breath as I pinch the leather cord around her neck. Slowly, I lift it, and the luminous stone slips from beneath her leathers, cool and smooth against my fingertips.

A moonstone, hewn in half.

The sight of it sends a harsh pang through my chest, and a gasp escapes my lips. The soft sound is enough to make Zyphoro stir, and I quickly stumble backward, collapsing onto my cot as she rolls to her side, the necklace now hanging in plain view.

I can’t tear my eyes away from it—the broken orb glimmers softly in the dim light. I know who wears the other half of that moonstone, though I wish I didn’t. I don’t want to admit what it could mean. That stone is precious to him, and whoever wears the other half… they must be just as cherished.

I lie on my side, my back aching but no longer caring, only staring at the shimmering half-stone as if it might hold all the answers I’m too afraid to ask. Tears threaten to break free, but I close my eyes, forcing them back.

Sleep. I tell myself. Just sleep .

But even as exhaustion pulls me under, the weight of that moonstone presses down on me, and I can’t shake the feeling that whatever it means—it will change everything.

The cot across from me is empty when I awaken.

I prop myself on my elbows, grateful to find the pain of Zyphoro’s wound has vanished. My fingers, though, will take more time, and I grimace when I accidentally put too much weight on them when I swing my legs over the side of the cot.

The moonstone.

It’s haunted me since I closed my eyes, and if I dreamed, I’m sure it would have followed me there too.

I climb to my feet and make for the cabin door, and when I open it and warm sunlight spills in, I can’t help but feel that we have made it. That we have truly escaped. I walk onto the deck and see Solena leaning on the railing, lost in her thoughts as she gazes at the clear sky. At the opposite end of the ship, Arax and Zyphoro stand huddled in discussion, and whatever they are talking about, I very much want to be a part of. I stride across the deck, feeling Solena’s eyes on me as I approach the two whispering Fae, and I have only one question on my lips.

“Who are you?” I demand.

She half turns, her fingers steepled. “I am Zyphoro.”

“That much I know,” I bite, aware that she is toying with me. “But who are you, truly ? Why were you in that glamored prison? Why does Lanneth fear you?” Then there is the question that burns at the forefront of of my mind. “Who gave you that moonstone?”

“Ah,” she says with a grin. “That is what you really want to know, isn’t it?”

I don’t reply, fighting to keep my control even though I am desperate for her answer.

“This belonged to someone very special to me,” Zyphoro replies, her fingers gripping the stone. “A long time ago.”

My eyes find Arax as I try to put the pieces together, and he bows his head, almost separating himself, leaving me to figure this out alone.

“I… I have seen another stone, just like it. In fact, I believe it to be its other half.” A lump burns in my throat, and though my feelings about Daed are still uncertain, I must know. “Did Daedalus give you that stone?”

Her chin dips, and she looks at me from beneath her brow. “Yes.”

An ache grips my heart and chokes it. “Are you… are you and he…”

Zyphoro’s brow furrows, and she takes a moment to understand my meaning, and when she throws her head back and laughs. I can’t help but feel that she is mocking me.

“Do not laugh at me!” I snap tersely. “Tell me. Are you his lover?”

My anger silences her laughter, and for the first time there is some seriousness on her face.

“No. Daedalus is not my lover. He is my brother. ”

“Twin brother,” Arax exhales.

Zyphoro looks down at the stone clenched between her fingers. “When this was whole, it belonged to our mother, the Queen Veloria. After she was murdered, our father had it cleaved and gave us each a piece.”

“Brother…” The idea did not even cross my mind, but now I see it so clearly. The dark curls, the sea storm eyes, a charisma and confidence both infuriating and alluring. They are cut from the same cloth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Daed never told me.”

“There is much Daedalus has not told you, and only half of that is his fault. Our family history is a long, dark tale that frightens even me.” She smiles. “And I do not scare easily.”

“You seem awfully cheery for someone who has been locked in a cage and haunting Baev’kalath for hundreds of years,” I say, not realizing my tone is a little rude until after I’ve said the words.

Zyphoro simply sighs. “The first fifty years were unpleasant, but after that, I developed a sense of humor about it. The rest of the time flew by.”

Arax lets out a low chuckle, the sound deep and knowing, and when Zyphoro catches his amusement, she laughs too—a soft, melodic sound that’s oddly comforting. I stand there, watching them share this moment, and suddenly I feel entirely out of my depth. These two Fae have seen centuries pass, have witnessed wars, kingdoms rise and fall, the birth of stars, and the crumbling of empires.

What must it be like to measure time not in years or decades, but in lifetimes?

To have watched mortals love and die, generation after generation, while you remained untouched by it all? They have witnessed more than I could ever imagine—an endless horizon of time that stretches behind them like a shadow I’ll never reach.

I fall silent, my gaze drifting toward the horizon as I process everything I’ve just heard. Zyphoro notices, her eyes sharpening as they take me in, her arms folding casually across her chest, but there’s a subtle intensity in her posture.

“You have questions,” she says, smirking, though her tone is softer now. “I’ll answer them as best I can, but I warn you—some answers may not sit well with you.”

I draw in a steady breath, straightening my back as I meet her gaze. I nod. Those are acceptable terms.

Zyphoro and I settle ourselves on the deck, the afternoon sun pouring down over us. Unlike Daed when we were in Pariseth, Zyphoro seems to bask in the warmth just as much as I do. But then again, she’s been locked away in that cursed room for over a century. I imagine even the smallest pleasures feel like a luxury to her now.

“I’ll start with what I know,” she begins, her voice losing its playful edge. “The Mordorin are the only Fae who harness the void. It’s what grants us the ability to void walk. Older Fae, like Arax, can manipulate smoke, bend it to their will. Then there are Fae like Daedalus and me—so deeply attuned to the void that it’s become part of us. We wield powers beyond what most Fae could even dream of. But the price is steep. The Father Below demands a sacrifice for such gifts.”

“Queen Veloria. How did she die?” I mutter under my breath, and I instantly regret it.

Zyphoro’s eyes darken, a flash of something bitter crossing her face. “Yes. Queen Veloria. What I know for certain is as Daedalus came into this world, our mother was taken from it, and in return, he was infused with the void. But then there was me.”

She leans back with a mischievous grin, a sharp edge of satisfaction in her voice. “I was the surprise. They never expected me to follow Daedalus, let alone consider that I, too, would be touched by the void. And while Daedalus is seamless with it, the perfect weapon molded by Gygarth, I... well… Let’s just say that I’m a little more unpredictable .”

The grin lingers on her lips, but there’s a darkness beneath her words.

“Daedalus’ bond with the void is both his greatest strength and his undoing,” Zyphoro says. “When he’s in control, he can resist it. But the moment he’s vulnerable—whether through fear, doubt, or weakness—Gygarth and Lanneth can bend him to their will. They can make him do things he’d never choose for himself. When they realized I couldn’t be controlled the same way, I was tricked, imprisoned in that dungeon, and glamored out of everyone’s memory. Some might say I was the lucky one.”

My heart races as her words settle in. Could this be the reason behind Daed’s betrayal? Could Gygarth and Lanneth have controlled and manipulated him? A fragile spark of hope flickers within me, but it’s quickly snuffed out as Zyphoro leans closer, her piercing gaze locking onto mine.

“I couldn’t leave my cage,” she continues, her voice barely more than a whisper. “But I could split a part of myself away—only for brief moments. It tore at my very soul, hurt worse than anything I’ve ever known. But it was the only way I could reach you. You see, I saw you when you first arrived in Baev’kalath, through the window in my little cell, though it appeared empty to the rest of the world. And I knew immediately what they planned for you.”

Zyphoro flicks her wrist, conjuring a wisp of smoke that dances between her fingers like a flame, casting eerie shadows across her face. “What if I told you that what I’ve done so far is just a fraction of what I’m capable of? That at full strength, I don’t just control smoke and ash—I control the void itself. If I wanted to, I could tear open the very fabric of this world and swallow it whole. And after what I’ve suffered, I’d say it would only be fair.”

A shiver runs down my spine. “Is that… something you want to do?” I ask, my voice barely steady.

Zyphoro tilts her head, pondering for a moment before giving a half-hearted shrug. “Not today. But even if I did feel like annihilation, I couldn’t. My power is fading. It’s subtle, but I can feel it, which means Daedalus feels it too. Gygarth is hungry again. Apparently, a few hundred years without consuming a pregnant woman gets under his skin.”

Her casual tone makes my stomach churn. I try to hide my horror, but Zyphoro’s sharp eyes catch everything.

“I’m sorry if my manner offends you,” she says, her smirk barely there. “But Fae and humans are different. Death is not so… shocking to us. The point is, when I saw you, I knew you were to be the next feast for the beast. My dear brother was to plant a Fae child in your human body, and when it was ripe, they’d crack you open like a melon and toss the scraps to the void. To Gygarth.”

I flinch, turning my head away from her, trying to block out the image. I can’t be as calm as she is, not when she’s speaking so coldly about my life, about Daed’s role in my death. “And if I were to die,” I say, my voice trembling, “your power would grow stronger,?”

“Oh, yes.”

I stare at her, the pieces falling into place. “Then why did you warn me? Why save me if it means you’ve lost your chance?”

Zyphoro’s expression softens, but only slightly. “Power was never something I asked for. It was a curse—paid for with the blood of the mother I never knew. I’d rather have nothing than live with the weight of what I am. So, I told you to run. It took you longer than I expected. Humans can be a little slower on the uptake… but… here we are.” She stretches her arms to the sky. “In the sun.”

There’s a stillness between us, a heavy silence as Zyphoro’s revelations settle in. Shadows no longer lurk in corners—they’re laid bare before me, leaving nowhere to hide. But none of it… not one word she’s spoken… redeems Daed. Only damned him further.

There’s no comfort in her truths, only more pain.

“Lanneth says Daedalus knew what would happen to me,” I say, my voice trembling. It’s almost too much to ask, too terrifying to speak the words aloud. “Is that true? Did he know I would be sacrificed?”

Zyphoro’s gaze sharpens, her head tilting with a faint smirk. “What would you like me to say?” she asks, as if testing me, her curiosity cold and detached.

“No,” I answer without hesitation, clinging to the hope that the truth is less terrible than I fear.

I want to hear that this was all some twisted misunderstanding, that Daed was a pawn. Just as I was .

“Then no,” she says, and her eyes bore into mine, watching me too closely, like she’s dissecting my emotions, learning something foreign through the agony that twists my face.

I wish I could leave it there—accept the lie, bury the truth deep inside and never unearth it.

It would be easier, wouldn't it? To pretend that Daed didn’t know. That deception did not taint the nights we spent in each other’s arms. But the truth gnaws at me, a relentless force, and I can’t stop myself.

“ Is that the truth?” My voice cracks, betraying the anguish inside me.

Zyphoro’s lips curl slowly, a knowing smile that feels like a blade to my heart. “No. It is not the truth.” Her eyes are merciless as they hold mine. “Daedalus knew. He knew all along, Amara.”

Her admission shatters something deep inside me, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. My chest tightens, my world narrowing into a suffocating tunnel as the weight of her words crashes down like a tidal wave.

Betrayal.

The word pulses through me, leaving cracks in my very soul. I cared for him. I trusted him, let him into my heart, my body. I had given him everything—pieces of myself I didn’t know I had to give.

And all the while, he knew.

He knew I was to be a sacrifice, that I would be handed over to the void like an offering, my life nothing more than a pawn in their dark game. I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands curling into fists as the flood of emotions crashes over me. I hold back the tears that blur my vision. I hate myself for them. I feel like I’ve been ripped open and left exposed.

I feel like a fool!

Zyphoro watches me, silent, perhaps even pitying me in her own cold way, but I don’t need her pity. All I need now is my rage.

“Princess,” Arax calls from the bow of the ship, his voice cutting through the wind. “You should see this.”

I stand, feeling Zyphoro’s gaze heavy on my back, but I don’t acknowledge her. Not now. Not after everything. Instead, I move toward Arax, joining him at the edge of the ship. When I follow his gaze, my breath catches in my throat, and for the first time since we left Baev’kalath, the weight of my anger lifts, even if just for a moment.

Land.

A sliver of green on the horizon, vibrant and alive, shimmering under the sun’s rays like a beacon. My heart lurches in my chest, and it takes a second for the joy to settle in, the disbelief warring with the reality before me. The Grove. My home.

The coastline comes into sharper focus, a blend of lush forests and rolling hills that stretch endlessly, their emerald hues reaching out toward the sky. Even from this distance, I can see the towering trees that define The Grove, their canopies thick with life, leaves glistening as if they are welcoming me back. The winding rivers that snake through the land gleam like silver threads, their waters flowing toward the heart of the forest—the place I thought I might never see again.

My throat tightens as familiar landmarks take shape—the gentle rise of the mountains in the far distance, the cascading waterfalls. I know this place like I know my own heartbeat, and now, standing at the bow of this ship, I feel the pull of it, the overwhelming desire to set foot on that soil, to feel the embrace of the trees and the whispers of the wind.

“We will drop anchor when we get close enough,” Arax says, his voice steady despite the visible toll Lanneth’s fury has taken on him.

I study his face, noting the bruises, the cuts—marks of a battle fought not just with weapons but with will. Gently, I cup his jaw, my thumb brushing over the worst of the scrapes. “Look at what she’s done to you,” I murmur, guilt twisting in my chest.

His hand closes over mine, firm but tender. “No,” he says, his tone firm. “If you try to heal me again, I’ll toss that damned rune somewhere you’ll never find it.” His lips curve slightly, softening his words. “Besides, I look good with scars.”

A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth, and for a brief moment, everything lifts. “Yes,” I say, our hands lingering together. “I suppose you do.”

I leave Arax at the helm and find Solena on the deck. She stands nearby, casting wary glances at Zyphoro, who lounges beneath the sun, basking as if she hasn’t just shattered my world with her truths.

“I don’t like her,” Solena mutters under her breath.

“You don’t like anyone when you first meet them,” I remind her, my tone light despite the storm churning in my mind. “Remember?”

Solena’s glare could burn through stone. “I know for certain I permanently dislike her .”

I place a hand on her shoulder, grounding both of us. “We’ll drop anchor soon and fly ashore. Then we’ll head straight to The Grove. I need to tell Keeper Tovar everything. There’s no time to waste.”

With reluctance, I approach Zyphoro once more.

She tilts her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Back already? I thought I’d scared you off.”

“We’ll drop anchor soon,” I reply, turning my back, eager to put distance between us.

“Wait.”

The word is a command, and despite myself, I stop. Her footsteps are soft behind me, and then she’s at my side, too close, her presence unsettling.

“I know I’ve said things you didn’t want to hear, and perhaps my delivery lacks... tact,” she says, her voice surprisingly gentle. “But believe me when I say all I ever wanted was to protect you. To spare you the fate my mother suffered. That’s all.”

I search her face for signs of deception, but all I find is the raw truth. “I believe you,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “You helped me escape Baev’kalath. For that, I am grateful.”

She steps closer, so close I can feel the heat of her body. Her hand rests lightly on my belly, the touch both intimate and invasive. “But I couldn’t save you from everything. You brought something back with you from Pariseth.”

Her fingers tighten slightly, and my breath catches. I stare down at her hand, heart pounding. “That’s not possible.”

Zyphoro’s smirk deepens. “Oh, Amara. You’re not that innocent. You know it is.”

I swallow hard, my mind spinning. “Even if I am… how could you possibly know?”

“I’m attuned to the void,” she replies, her voice low and certain. “And the life growing inside you—it's a part of the void.”

A tremor runs through me, and I don’t know whether to laugh or collapse under the weight of it all. Zyphoro’s hand drifts away, her face distant, as though lost in some private thought. “Daedalus will come for you,” she continues, her voice heavy with meaning. “That much is certain. But for what purpose, I cannot say. All I know is, I will do what I can to keep you safe. For the sake of my cursed bloodline, and yours.”

Her words linger in the air long after she leaves me standing there, alone with the enormity of what I now carry. Slowly, hesitantly, my hands sweep across my stomach, cradling it as if I might feel something—anything. But I don’t. I’m not attuned to the void. Yet in the quiet recesses of my heart, I know Zyphoro speaks the truth.

Daedalus and I have created something… something born of both smoke and vine. Beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. There’s no escaping it now—this bond between us—this force that ties us together.

Forever.