Chapter 12
DAISY
Irun the pad of my thumb over the engraved pendant resting at my throat, tracing the twin symbols etched into the metal.
It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.
Well… maybe tied with the time Ezra bought me a massive throw blanket covered in suns and daisies.
Gods, I loved that blanket so much. Until Talia spilled red wine all over it, and the dry cleaner shrank it down to the size of a freaking handkerchief.
I sobbed for two days straight. Talia felt so bad she tried to buy me another, but there was nothing that felt as soft as the blanket Ezra gave me.
I push the memory down before it swallows me whole. Because before I can step out of this room and into the eyes of the world, there are two things clawing at me that I can’t ignore.
“Aran?” I say softly.
“Yes, my queen?” His joking tone makes my eyes narrow instantly. He knows exactly how much I hate that title on his lips. He’s grinning at me, his emerald eyes glinting with mischief. I almost forget what I was going to say. Almost. I chew my bottom lip, trying to steady my racing heart.
“Ezra. I want to see him. Just for a moment. Before the war swallows us whole. He deserves to know I’m alive, and I—” My voice cracks, and I have to pause and suck in a breath to steady myself. “I need to see him. Please.”
Aran studies me for a long, heavy moment. I can almost see the war raging inside him. Strategist versus brother, duty versus heart. Finally, he nods once. “When the time is right, I’ll make it happen. I swear it to you.”
Relief blooms in my chest, though it’s tangled with fear.
I trust him that he’ll deliver on his promise.
I have to trust him. But I’m not finished.
Another person flickers in my mind: Her soft, pale lavender eyes that match her hair perfectly.
The way her voice trembled when admitting her dreams to me, as if it was treason saying them aloud, rattles through my head as I take a steadying breath.
“And… Lyvia,” I add quickly, before my courage fades.
Aran tilts his head. “Your maid?”
“She’s more than that,” I insist, maybe a little too firmly.
“She’s my friend. She told me once she wanted to work in Sovarith, in the Spires.
She’s brilliant, Aran. She’s wasted here, dressing me and bringing me meals, and cleaning the palace.
I want to help her get there. If you can… if you know anyone—”
The corner of his mouth lifts, just slightly. “Of course you do this now. On the morning you’re about to face the leaders of the realm, you’re more focused on plotting ways to change one girl’s life.”
“Not just one girl,” I murmur, my throat tight. “If I can’t look after the people closest to me, how the hell am I supposed to look after an entire kingdom?”
He exhales slowly, nodding. “Then after today, I’ll see to it. We’ll make it happen.”
Gratitude swells in my chest so strongly it hurts. “Thank you, Aran.”
For a moment, the weight of queenship, of looming war, of loss and grief, doesn’t crush me entirely. For a moment, I’m just Daisy again, holding on to the people I love, fighting for them in the only way I know how to.
Aran offered to portal us to our first destination—the village of Cinderspine—but I refused.
I wanted to take the same walk Korithax and I made on my first day here, after I had agreed to marry him.
My chest aches at the memory, every step down the palace path cutting a little deeper.
That feels like so long ago. Time is slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.
Life really doesn’t wait for anybody, no matter how badly we want it to.
A small entourage of guards trails behind us, with two leading ahead, their armour clinking faintly in the stillness of the surrounding fields.
The road feels… emptier than I remember.
Too quiet. As though the looming shadow of war has driven everyone indoors.
I hate it. I hate that my people—my kingdom—live in fear instead of freedom.
The fields are pretty much the same. Crops tended, but farmers scarce.
It feels like even the earth itself is holding its breath.
Then I see her.
The flamebeast. The same one that approached me months ago, the one that pressed its snout into my palm as if she had known me all along.
The memory makes my lips tug into a small, aching smile.
Korithax had been so stunned she had come to me so freely.
Now, I wonder if she had always known. If she had known who I truly was beneath it all.
I am a part of her creation, after all. Dasmyrin and Elyistria had shaped these magnificent creatures.
She prowls towards me, just as before, her great head low, swaying side to side in a serpentine motion. The guards instantly cry out, their hands going to their hilts, voices sharp.
“Stand back! Protect the queen—”
“Don’t!” My voice cracks through the air, sharp enough to halt them. I step forward with a hand raised. “Lower your weapons. Immediately.”
“But, Your Ma—”
“You dare defy your queen?” Aran’s tone is ruthless, his hand resting casually on his own sword as he glares at the panic-stricken guards.
The questioning guard swallows hard, bowing his head once before letting go of his weapon.
The others follow suit, albeit reluctantly.
I move past them, drawn towards her as if by invisible thread.
Somehow, I know she’s female. The way I knew Korithax’s tether.
Not knowledge, but instinct. Something soul-deep.
I stop just short of her and she lowers her head, her warm breath huffing against me as I slowly lift my hand.
She presses her scaled snout to my palm without hesitation.
My chest floods with something that feels like recognition and belonging.
“Hello again,” I whisper. “I’m Daisy.”
I don’t know why I’m speaking to her. Why I’m standing and offering my name. But it feels natural, as though it’s what she expects. Her molten-gold eyes bore into mine. And then, clear and loud, a voice flickers in my mind. Feminine and ancient.
“Vesindiyah.”
My breath catches. “Your name… is Vesindiyah?”
She huffs, almost indignant, like she’s saying, Yes, that’s what I said. Keep up. A laugh burst out of me, loud and disbelieving.
I hear movement behind me as Aran steps cautiously closer. I glance over my shoulder to find him staring, wide-eyed. “Daisy,” he breathes. “Did you just… say the flamebeasts name?”
I nod, stroking Vesindiyah’s crimson, iridescent scale with my thumb. “I heard it in my head. And when I asked if that’s what she said, she all but rolled her eyes at me.”
Aran exhales, almost reverent. “Of course. Now that Dasmyrin stirs in you. Dasmyrin and Elyistria created them as protectors. But Dasmyrin… she was closest to them. There was one, in particular. Loyal beyond measure,” he cocks his head, eying Vesindiyah with a soft smile. “This must be her.”
Warmth pools my chest as I press my forehead to Vesindiyah’s snout. “I can feel it,” I whisper. “In my soul. Gods, I can feel it so deeply in my heart that it aches. She’s bound to me.”
I absentmindedly rub at my chest where I feel the bond ache.
My fingers grazing the golden pendant. I can’t believe I didn’t feel it before.
Did my mortality really hide so much from me?
Would I have felt this if I didn’t turn?
I always felt something towards Korithax, but it wasn’t as strong as it was when I turned immortal.
My mind reels with the feeling of the ancient creatures’ bond that resides by the space I know is still taken up by Korithax.
“This means…” Aran trails off, awe in his voice. “This means not only armies—but these creatures. We could have flamebeasts by our side. Dasmyrin… she always rode into battle with them. She rode into battle on her,” he says, angling his head to Vesindiyah.
My throat tightens, my eyes finding Aran’s. “I couldn’t ask that of her. Of them. This is not a war I want to drag more people into that I need to. Especially not such magnificent creatures.”
Before I can step back, Vesindiyah nudges her head against mine, a gesture filled with such fierce certainty that I don’t need words.
I understand what she’s saying instantly.
She has already decided her path is still with me.
She has decided she will ride with me into battle, just as we have before.
“We all will.” Her voice echoes in my mind, clear and powerful.
Tears blur my vision, my nose stinging from the unshed tears. “Thank you,” I whisper, stroking her one last time.
With a powerful sweep of her wings, Vesindiyah launches upward, scales shimmering beneath the red lightning flashes as she climbs higher into the powdery blue sky.
She circles once, as if in farewell. She’s a fiery silhouette against the horizon, before vanishing beyond sight.
I turn back, pride swelling in my chest. Every single guard is frozen, mouths agape, and eyes wide as they stare at me.
Aran, of course, is smirking like a smug bastard as he cocks his head at the guards. “This,” he says, voice thick with pride, “is why you never question your queen.”
The rest of the walk is uneventful, only broken by the occasional villager bowing as we pass. By the time we reach Cinderspine, the difference in atmosphere is startling.
The village hasn’t yet caught the weight of war.
It bustles with life, chatter spilling from doorways, the clang of hammers against steel ringing from the forge, and the laughter of children sounding in the distance.
The banners from the coronation are still strung high across posts and houses, faded slightly by the sun but still bearing both mine and Korithax’s sigil.
My chest flutters at the sight, painful yet warm, but I force a polite smile as the village residents nod and wave in greeting.
I know exactly where I want to go to first.