37. Chapter 36
Chapter 36
T he next days are the hardest of my life. No one, not even Daed, can offer me comfort. I feel lost. Adrift. The anger that burns white hot in the pit of my stomach won’t give me a moment’s respite.
Though I know their worries differ from mine, my Fae companions are just as restless. The Grove may be my home, but it is not theirs. It is too quiet. Too peaceful. They take no joy in listening to the forest or digging in the soil. They are beings of passion, fire, and smoke, and this place drains them just as Baev’kalath drained me.
The Fae cannot stay here. Daed cannot stay here. The Grove will wither them to nothing.
Daed has slept by my side every night, but I have not felt the heat of him inside me since the night before the battle, even though I know he longs for me. I can feel it in his touch and see it in the way his eyes roam over every curve of my body with silent need. But my heart still aches for my people, for Arax, and my body craves nothing. Not food. Not sleep. Not Daed.
Then there is the question that lingers on his lips. I can sense it, even if he doesn’t speak it.
Have you decided?
I have not . Do I love him? Yes, despite myself, despite being a person of sense and reason, I love him with a fierceness that could see me undone. But there cannot be love without trust. Surely that must be true, and where once I would have defended my dark prince fiercely, now I wonder if the man I lie next to would slit my throat in the night if Gygarth so willed it.
So no, I have not decided. To do so, I must choose what I value more: my life or my love.
I haven’t been able to drag myself from bed much, healing not only from my wounds but also from the deeper scars that keep my sadness ever-present. But this morning, I sit up, the sunlight streaming through the window, filling the room with warmth and illuminating the life bustling below in The Grove.
Daedalus and Zyphoro spend most of their time in the forest, forbidden to hunt the animals, so instead, they chase each other through the trees. It’s a dangerous game of hide and seek that often ends with one of them needing healing from my sisters. As of now, I believe the score is tied.
The sun blinds me as I open the door to seek them out, and I raise my hand to shield my eyes from its brightness. The birds sing sweetly in the air, and the distant sound of the waterfall creates a perfect harmony I will never tire of. Yet, I find myself yearning for another melody: the sound of rain on stone and thunder rolling over the ocean.
I grip the rope bridge as I cross, limping awkwardly down the stairs until I reach the forest floor. My name is on everyone’s lips, accompanied by bright smiles and well wishes. I smile back, waving and ensuring I greet each of them by name, letting them know how much I respect and care for each soul.
But inside, I feel hollow. There’s an emptiness within me that no amount of love or adoration can fill. Even I don’t know what could ease that ache. All of me aches.
I pass the vine wall and wander deeper into the forest, the soil beneath my feet and the sun warming my skin, slowly untangling the knots in my stomach. But that fleeting moment of peace shatters when a plume of smoke erupts before me, and Ashen leaps from the void. He roars, landing on me with a thud, his massive front paws pinning my shoulders hard against the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of me, leaving me gasping for air.
It wouldn’t hurt so much if he were still in his kitten form, but instead, he’s a massive lion again, his back adorned with flailing tentacles. He snarls inches from my face, hot breath washing over me, and I’m shocked to discover that smoke cats drool.
“Ashen!” I growl, wiping the thick, dark mucus from my eyes. “What are you doing?”
His roar cuts off abruptly as his head cocks back, his wild, full mane framing his startled face. He whimpers, immediately withdrawing and backpedaling a couple of steps before sitting on his hind legs, looking thoroughly chastened.
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I flick the saliva into the brush and meet his bright white eyes with an irritated glare. “Why are you so glum? I’m the one who got mauled and slobbered on!”
Suddenly, two more pops punctuate the air, and Daed and Zyphoro land almost silently beside me.
“Amara,” Daed says, concern etched across his face as he crouches down. “What happened?”
“What happened?” I grumble, lazily pointing in Ashen's direction, who continues to whimper, his eyes drooping and a trembling pout forming on his face. “He just appeared out of nowhere and tackled me to the ground!”
Zyphoro and Daed exchange knowing looks, both struggling to stifle their laughter.
“Apologies, Amara,” Zyphoro says, failing to hide her grin. “Daed and I were tiring of hunting each other, so we invited the kitty to join. He must have mistaken you for one of us.”
Ashen shrinks to his kitten form, his tentacles retreating into his fur. Daed helps me to my feet, a grin still lingering on his face as he dusts me off.
“I suppose that means he loses,” Daed says, glancing at me with a teasing smirk. “Isn’t that right, sister?”
Zyphoro nods playfully. “Only seems fair, brother. That leaves you and me tied at twenty-five while the fluffball languishes at zero.”
Ashen arches his back and hisses, grumpily padding away.
“Twenty-five? How many times have you played?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Daed exhales, tilting his head in thought. “In truth, I’ve lost count. But that doesn’t matter. It’s good to see you up. How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” He brushes his fingers against my cheek, now only mildly swollen, and I place my hand over his, smiling at the warmth of his touch.
Zyphoro rolls her eyes. “I’m going to find some wine.”
I furrow my brow. “It’s the morning.”
“And yet here we are,” Zyphoro sighs, stretching her arms toward the sky as she backpedals away from us.
Daed pulls me close by the waist, his hips pressing against mine, and I can already sense the hunger radiating from him. “Do not mind her.”
“She hates it here,” I mutter. “She grows wearier each day.”
“It doesn’t matter how she feels. If she doesn’t like it, she is welcome to leave. She is not a prisoner here.”
“What about you?” I ask bluntly, my expression turning serious as I lock eyes with his.
He hesitates for a moment, either unsure of how to respond or what I truly mean. “What about me?”
“Are you a prisoner here?”
“No.”
“But yet you stay.”
“Yes, because you are here, so there is nowhere else I want to be.”
His answer comes so quickly that it’s hard to doubt him. Yet I must confront the truth he’s evading.
“We cannot stay in The Grove, Daedalus.”
He tilts his head, studying me with a furrowed brow. “And why is that, wife?”
“You and Zyphoro don’t belong here. You are beings of ash and smoke. Those things do not exist in this place.”
“I belong where you belong,” he replies, leaning in to brush his nose against mine. A familiar shiver travels down my spine, one I thought had been lost.
“There is nothing for you here,” I murmur as his mouth trails along my jaw toward my ear. “Nothing you want.”
His lips graze my earlobe, and soon I feel the heat of his tongue tracing the pulsing vein in my neck.
“I want what you want,” he whispers, his hand inching down my thigh, sweeping over the warmth between my legs.
“No, you don’t want what I want,” I whimper, my back arching as his hand explores, finding the opening of my robe.
He kisses my neck hard, his lips stinging where they meet the raw, healing skin of my rune tattoo.
I hiss, caught between pain and pleasure as his canines scrape against my sensitive flesh.
“And what do you want?” he growls into my skin, his fingers finding their way to my core.
I don’t know what I want. Or at least I can’t remember. With his hands on me, needing me, desiring me, all I can think of is him pushing my back against the tree and sliding between my legs, the hard length of him thrusting deep inside me.
But I’m reminded of the relentless thud knocking at the back of my mind, driving me mad with its persistence. I first heard it when I lost Arax, and since then, it has drowned out everything else. That constant thumping is a reminder of something I can’t articulate.
As Daed eases his fingers inside me, I gasp, clenching his shoulders as his tongue traces my collarbone before his lips find my chest.
What do I want?
I want Lanneth to suffer.
I want Modok to suffer.
I want Gygarth to suffer.
I want The Golden Son to suffer.
I crave pain for pain, and at last the word I’ve been searching for surges to the surface of my mind, bursting forth as if from the depths of the Untold Sea.
“I want revenge,” I gasp.
Daed freezes, his head lifting from between my breasts, his hand withdrawing from my robes. “What did you say?”
“I want revenge,” I repeat, feeling the word gain strength with each utterance. “I refuse to hide here in The Grove, living out my days oblivious to the horrors beyond these trees. They must pay, Daed. All of them .”
“Death?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.
I shiver at the thought. “If that’s what it takes.”
“The Golden Son will not be easy to face, wife. We encountered only a small sample of his army. Rumor has it he has gathered thousands in Rethmar, waiting for the right moment to attack Baev’kalath. For now, however, his ships are limited. When House Ithranor fled during the Betrayer’s Battle, they took most of their vessels with them.”
“Then we’ll need a larger army,” I reply, my determination unyielding. Although he has stopped exploring inside me, the heat between my legs remains.
“There is only one larger army,” he counters. As I watch his lips move, I ache to crash my mouth against his. “The houses of Mordorin, but the thrall houses only serve the king.”
I exhale, realizing that my lust intensifies with every mention of war and revenge.
“Then we make you king,” I mutter breathlessly.
Daed cups the back of my neck, the smile dancing on his lips enough to send me spiraling toward climax before he even enters me. “How fortunate I am to have such a wise wife at my side.”
He pulls me closer, our lips colliding in gasps. His canines graze my bottom lip as he fists my robe, the hem inching higher toward my hips. But when his hand hovers over my stomach, he stops cold. I continue kissing him, tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling him back to me. But he doesn’t respond.
“Husband,” I whisper, my lips still brushing against his. “What’s wrong?”
His hand flattens on my stomach, and my eyes widen.
“What is this, Amara?”
I gulp, scrambling for words. “I don’t know what you—”
“Don’t,” he snaps, his voice slicing through the air and sending birds fleeing from the trees. “Don’t lie to me. Not about this.”
“I don’t know for sure,” I say quickly. “Zyphoro says—”
“Zyphoro? She knows? Since when?”
I gulp again. “Since we arrived in Valorne.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“You were not here!” I protest, anger rising in my voice. “And if you recall, we were not doing well. Or had you forgotten that I found out you knew Lanneth was poisoning me with the void?”
He says nothing, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed coldly at me, the earlier desire replaced with an emotion I can’t quite place—anger, disappointment…no, fear . At first, I think this is part of our game, the passion between us fueled by our disagreements. But then he steps away, and the chill in his gaze seeps into my bones, leaving me shivering.
“Besides,” I gulp. “I thought you would have noticed sooner. Zyphoro sensed it immediately. She claims she’s attuned to the void and could feel it within me.”
“I didn’t,” Daed replies, his face etched in thought as he stares off into the distance. “Something didn’t want me to know.” He glances back at me from the corner of his eye. “Because it knew what I would do.”
“Something?” I question, though I already know the answer. “Gygarth? But he’s in Baev’kalath, and you are here.”
Daed closes his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “Gygarth is wherever the void is, and the void is everywhere, Amara.” He clutches his chest. “It’s in me, and now it’s in you.” Turning to face me fully, he takes a step forward, crunching the undergrowth beneath his feet. Instinctively, my hands move to my stomach, and I take a step back.
“I told you what happened to my mother. I can’t let the same thing happen to you. I love you too much to watch you be destroyed.”
He takes another step, and another. My heart pounds in my chest, loud enough to drown out everything else.
“You’re scaring me, Daed,” I say, glancing behind me with each wary backward step.
“You don’t know what fear is,” he replies, his voice low. Suddenly, his eyes roll over to pitch black. “But you will.”
Without thinking, I turn and run, but I barely get a few strides before colliding with Zyphoro. I want to scream, but the sound catches in my throat. She looms over me, a dark grin playing on her lips, pinning me between two Mordorin Fae with blood tainted with the void.
“Amara,” she says, her tone unnaturally light. “Did you tell him the good news?”
I can’t answer, my voice trapped somewhere deep inside. When I open my mouth, only stutters and murmurs escape.
“Looks like he didn’t take it well.” Zyphoro leans closer, urgency lacing her words. “Get behind me, dear.”
“Step away from my wife,” Daed growls, his voice low and menacing as he stalks toward us, smoke weaving ominously between his fingers. I brace myself, knowing what comes next.
I do as Zyphoro says, stepping behind her as she clasps her hands behind her back, striding toward Daed with an air of nonchalance that belies the crackling tension in the air. “Now, brother, I warned you what would happen if you lost control. Didn’t I?”
Inch by inch, Death Singer materializes in Daed’s outstretched hand, its sharp point dragging through the earth with a chilling scrape.
Zyphoro halts, a sigh escaping her lips. “Very well. If that’s how it must be.” She reveals her hands from behind her back, brandishing daggers wreathed in swirling black smoke. “Tag. You’re it.”
The forest transforms into a blur of motion as Daed and Zyphoro clash, their bodies weaving among the towering trees. Daed lunges, swinging Death Singer with lethal intent, but Zyphoro dances aside, her movements fluid and precise. She counters with a swift punch that snaps against his jaw, sending him reeling back. He shakes it off, his black eyes narrowing.
Zyphoro seizes the opening, her blades flashing as they slice through the air. Daed deflects her first strike, but the second dagger grazes his arm, a thin line of crimson marking its path. He hisses in pain, retaliating with a brutal kick that sends her crashing into a nearby tree, the trunk cracking under the impact.
But Zyphoro is quick to recover, rolling to her feet and launching back into the fray. She ducks under his outstretched arm, landing a punch to his side that makes him wince. She strikes again and again, relentlessly hammering at his ribs until he keels over. Just when I think she has him, Daed void walks, leaving her fist to collide with the tree trunk, which splinters around her hand.
She spins on her heels, scanning the forest for where he might reappear.
“Zyphoro! Behind you!” I scream as Daed emerges from a plume of smoke, driving his boot hard into her back. She’s flung through the air, crashing into a fallen log, her back bending painfully around the wood.
Zyphoro winces, clutching the arch of her back as blood trickles from her mouth, but she manages a defiant smile.
I reach down to help her up as Daed stalks toward us, but she suddenly clamps her hand around my wrist and flips me over her head, dragging me to the ground and wrapping her legs around me.
I struggle against her grip, watching helplessly as Daed closes the distance.
“What are you doing?” I yell furiously, but no matter how hard I thrash, I can’t break free.
“Stay still,” she growls, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her dagger move toward my throat. “I promise it won’t hurt. Then this will all be over.”
Lying Fae! I manage to wrench an arm free, plunging my hand into the soil, hoping the Souls will hear my plea. Before I can utter a word, Zyphoro slices her blade along my skin—not my throat, but my chest—just deep enough to draw blood that cascades down in a thin curtain.
“Time to test out that rune,” she says, pointing her blood-tipped blade at Daed.
Realization sweeps over me, and I can’t help but smile. Tricky Fae .
I extend my hand, palm facing Daed, as the power builds within me. My veins glow green, my skin darkens, and the hum of energy fills my head, infusing every nerve in my body. A surge of green light beams from my hand, so bright it’s almost blinding, and slams hard into Daed’s chest, catapulting him backward until his back impacts against a tree. The ancient trunk sways, its very foundations rocked, but it stands firm while Daed slowly slides down its bark, crumpling to the ground.
His eyes close, and he doesn’t move. Panic grips me for a moment, but Zyphoro pats my back as her blades vanish into smoke. “Don’t worry. He’s alive. Just going to have a colossal headache when he wakes up.”
I stare at Zyphoro, bemused. When she doesn’t react immediately, I gesture to her legs, still wrapped around me. “Do you mind?”
She laughs and unhooks herself. “Right. Sorry about that. But I didn’t have time to explain.”
I glance down at my chest. Wiping away the blood reveals the cut completely healed.
“Looks like the rune works, then.”
I nod in quiet appreciation. “Looks like.”
Zyphoro groans to her feet, brushing dirt from her leather trousers. “I guess he’s not thrilled about becoming a daddy?”
I shake my head, my gaze drifting into the distance. “No. It doesn’t seem that way. But what do I do now?”
“About the baby?” Zyphoro asks.
“About everything. Before he turned, I told him I wanted to return to Baev’kalath. I wanted him to be king so we could use the Mordorin armies to destroy The Golden Son once and for all.”
Zyphoro nods, pursing her lips. “That’s a sound plan, and we have a ship. So what’s changed?”
I gesture to my husband, crumpled unconscious at the foot of a tree. “How can I trust anything about him, knowing he could fall under the control of the void at any moment?”
Zyphoro grins. “You know what the difference is between Daed and me? Aside from the fact that I’m prettier?”
I’m weary of getting tangled in Zyphoro’s web, but I proceed nonetheless. “What?”
“The void holds no sway over me, and it’s not just a Mordorin king who can command our armies. A Fae queen will do just fine as well.”
“You?” I ask, and Zyphoro drops into a mock bow.
“I would look wonderful in a crown,” she says. “When do we leave?”