Chapter 13
Daed
Before her. The image of Emranth lingers, a specter in the shadows of my mind. Even here, beneath the endless night sky, far from the cursed halls of Baev’kalath, I feel him. Him and the demon god he serves.
Emranth is only a messenger, a wretched errand boy for something far older, far worse, and that I feel more than anything.
For I am never alone. No matter how far I flee, no matter how many miles stretch between us, the void is within me.
Bound to me. Cursed to me. And as long as I draw breath, I know I will never escape it.
Beneath me, the waves churn, a restless, raging thing.
The sea is wild, untamed, as beautiful as it is deadly.
My wings slice through the frigid night air, rain needling against my face, beading on my black feathers before sliding off in rivulets.
I drag a hand across my eyes, blinking through the downpour, my gaze narrowing on the island ahead.
It is unremarkable. Barely more than a jagged rock jutting from the sea.
It is not large enough to mark on a map, and even if it were, the Fae of the Untold Sea would scratch it from existence.
Not because of the island itself. No, that is nothing but stone and dirt.
It is what lives there that unsettles them so.
But not me.
Never me.
I tip my wings, streaking down in a swift, controlled descent, pulling up at the last second to hover before touching the ground. The island is as barren as I remember. Nothing grows here, nothing ever will. But ahead, nestled into the craggy rock, a cave glows with the flicker of orange light.
I move toward it slow and cautious. The roar of the ocean dulls, swallowed by the nearer crackle of burning wood. My wings fold against my back as I brace a hand on the cave’s entrance, warmth brushing against my damp skin.
Inside, a wooden dish rests near the fire, littered with fish bones, a meager meal, long since cold. A bedroll lies crumpled in the corner, beside a haphazard stack of books, their pages curled with age and use.
But the one who calls this place home is nowhere to be seen.
My brow furrows. I duck my head, stepping forward but freeze when cold steel kisses my throat.
“You dare show your face here?” The voice is a low rasp, sharp as the blade pressing against my skin.
The slightest movement, even a breath, and it will cut.
Then my attacker inhales. “Wait. Is that…”
The blade eases.
I grin. “Yes, it is.”
Reaching into the satchel strapped across my chest, I pull free a shiny red apple.
Before the apple has even tasted the night air, a grubby hand snatches it from my grasp. A figure, cloaked in tattered gray, sweeps past me into the cave, settling before the fire in a swirl of threadbare fabric.
A loud crunch fills the space.
“Dear Pale Mother,” she sighs, her voice thick with satisfaction. “This tastes wonderful.”
I duck inside, tossing my satchel at her feet. It lands with a heavy thud, apples spilling across the ground. “Well, lucky for you, I brought the whole tree, Zema.”
The figure pulls back her hood, and the firelight reveals what the shadows tried to conceal.
Even beneath the layer of dirt that smudges her pale skin, she is stunning, breathtaking in the way only a Mordorin Fae can be.
Her large brown eyes gleam with knowing mischief, her lips parted just enough to reveal the crisp white bite of apple between them.
A thick braid of dark hair spills over her shoulder, so long it coils on the ground beside her like a waiting serpent.
She is cut from the same jagged stone as her kind.
Mordorin females, whose beauty is only matched by their strength.
There is no softness to them, no delicate refinement like the females of the other houses and as Zema tears into another bite of apple, her satisfaction written plainly across her face despite the desolation around her, I wonder if there is a single female in all the worlds who could have survived as she has.
She looks up, catching me staring.
“Well? Sit down,” she says curtly, “unless you’re just passing through.”
I shake my head and lower myself onto the hard ground, the fire’s warmth chasing away the rain clinging to my skin, seeping into my leathers.
“You look good,” I say.
She snorts, leveling me with a glare. “I look like shit, Daedalus.” Another crisp bite. “But I’ve been exiled here for half my life.” She gives me a once-over. “What’s your excuse?”
I chuckle. “It’s like that, is it?”
She shrugs, the ghost of a grin playing at her lips. “Serves you right for taking your time between visits. Is the Prince of the Mordorin’s schedule so full he has no time for an old friend?”
The playfulness fades from my face, replaced by something heavier. Something sadder.
“I always have time for you, Zema. You're right… I’ve been too distracted.”
She waves me off with a chuckle. “I was joking, Daed.”
“I wasn’t,” I say, and it startles her. “I have to do better by you.” My gaze sweeps over the cramped cave, the worn books, the scraps that were her last meal. “I don’t know how you suffer this.”
She exhales through her nose, shaking her head. “What choice do I have?” Her voice is steady, but the certainty in it stuns me. “It’s this or death, and I’m not ready to die just yet.”
I drop my head as if her acceptance is too bright to look at. “How can you be so resigned to your fate?”
Zema shrugs. “I’ve had a lifetime to come to terms with it. I am Awakened. I saw this fate long ago.”
My throat bobs, and she notices.
Her expression shifts, curiosity sharpening her features. “What is this?” she asks, a slow, knowing smile peeling back the tension. “Something’s happened. You feel… different.”
I frown. “You’ve been in this cave too long. Nothing is different.”
But she only watches me, studying me like she can see straight through my skin, through my ribs, into the secrets curled tight within me. Then, suddenly, she tosses aside her apple core, picked clean as the fish bones by the fire, and shifts onto her knees, inching closer.
“No,” she murmurs, eyes gleaming. “Something is different. I’m sure of it.”
Before I can stop her, she scrambles around the fire, settling beside me. Her hands shoot out, grasping either side of my face.
“Zema,” I groan, turning away, but as always, she ignores my protests.
She pulls me back, squeezing my cheeks like I’m some petulant child. Then she stills. A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face.
“Oh my,” she laughs, dark and delighted. “Maybe you should have brought wine instead of apples. It seems we have reason to celebrate.”
I sigh. “What nonsense are you spouting now?”
Her grin widens.
“You found her, didn’t you?” she breathes.
My stomach knots.
“You found your mate.”
My throat tightens, words stumbling over themselves before I manage, “How… how did you…”
Zema gives me a pointed look, as if the question itself is absurd, but then the excitement on her face wilts. Her grip on my face slackens.
“Oh, my. The fates didn’t tell me she was…” Her voice is quieter now. Softer. “I’m sorry, Daedalus.”
I place my hands over hers, gently peeling them away. “We are not here to talk about me, Zema.”
But she doesn’t let me go so easily. Even as I avoid her eyes, I can feel her watching me.
“Will they make you kill her?” she asks. The words are sharp, cutting through the space between us. She lets out a forced laugh, brittle and hollow. “Like they wanted you to kill me?”
My jaw clenches. “But I didn’t kill you, did I? I would never have killed you.”
She nods, her expression unreadable as she gestures around.
“Yes, the perks of being the sister of a lord and the companion of a prince. A lovely little cave in the middle of nowhere, but I get to keep my head.” A humorless smile tugs at her lips, but her eyes are dark.
“I fear your human mate does not have the same privileges.”
I lurch to my feet, desperate to put distance between us, to end this conversation before it burrows any deeper into me. But in my haste, I slam my head against the low ceiling with a dull thud.
“What is a human Awakened like?” she muses as I rub my head, her curiosity undeterred. “Does she look any different? She must smell different.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Zema,” I groan, staggering away from the humble fire, which suddenly feels like a raging inferno.
“You knew, didn’t you?” Zema presses, her voice a soft but persistent challenge. “That she was your mate. Just like I told you.”
I don’t answer immediately, my hand still rubbing the dull ache on my head as I turn to look down at her, surrendering to the weight of her gaze. It’s the least I can do. Admit the truth, at least in this moment.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “It was like lightning struck me.”
Her shoulders relax, and the tension that clung to her melts away, replaced by something lighter. A smile stretches across her face, as if my simple admission was a gift greater than my visit, greater than the apples I brought.
“Is she beautiful?”
The question feels heavier than it should. My chest tightens as I exhale, the breath burning in my lungs. “She is. Just as beautiful as you said she would be and just as fiery. Just as fierce.” The memory of her stirs in me. Amara Tyne, with her wild eyes and unbroken spirit. “Just as tormented.”
Zema’s lips tighten as she nods in understanding. “Good. What will you do now?”
“Nothing,” I say, my voice flat, resolute. “I’ll forget I ever met her and never think of her again.”
Zema frowns. “And then what, Daedalus? Will you stop the sun from rising? The moon from shining?”
“What would you have me do, then?” I mumble, frustration creeping into my voice. “The truth will only bring her death.”
She shakes her head, unphased by my words. “You will not let her die.”
I growl, clenching my fists. “Then what? What the fuck do I do?”
Zema still isn’t moved by the sharp edge in my voice.