Chapter 40
DAISY
Watching him sat with Aran, both of them working together on the grimoire, has a warmth blooming in my chest.
It’s quiet and fragile, like even breathing could shatter the harmony. But it’s there, something like hope, in its most dangerous form.
It hurt at first, when he just abruptly stood up and left. The ache had been brutal, settling deep in my heart. I knew I was pushing him past his comforts, past the careful walls he’d built around himself since coming back. I knew that. And yet, I couldn’t help myself.
I had missed him. Gods, I had missed him so much.
But I hadn’t realised how much my body missed him until I was pressed up against him again.
How much I had longed the weight of him, the heat of his skin, the familiar strength of his body beneath mine.
The way my entire being had recognised him before my mind could catch up.
Pure need had taken over the moment I felt him harden beneath me.
No amount of logic, no voice of reason or caution, could have pulled me back from that edge.
I know we had already come together when he first returned, but that had been something else entirely.
Raw adrenaline. Shock. Relief so intense it bordered on madness.
I needed him then like air after drowning.
This was different. This was me wanting him when the chaos had quieted.
When my mind was clear enough to feel the ache of everything we’d lost. When I was no longer running on grief and disbelief, but on hunger and love.
On the devastating truth that even after death, after distance, after all the ways we had changed—my body still knew exactly where it belonged.
When I followed him, it wasn’t to chase my own wounded feelings, it was to make sure he was okay.
To make sure I hadn’t pushed him into something darker, something irreversible.
The thought of being the reason he spiralled—of driving him further into isolation, into self-destruction—made my stomach twist painfully.
I would never forgive myself for that. Not ever.
But now… watching him with Aran. The way they speak quietly.
The way their shoulders ease just a fraction.
And when Aran pulls him into an embrace—when Korithax doesn’t recoil, but instead wraps his arms around him in return—I feel my throat tighten.
I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face as tears spill down my cheeks.
They’re both carrying so much. So much loss, so much grief, layered and tangled together in ways that will never have neat endings.
They need someone. They need each other.
I know Aran had always been like a brother to Korithax, long before titles and thrones and wars complicated everything.
I had feared that Velentha’s sacrifice might have shattered something between them beyond repair.
The thought of her sends a sharp pang of guilt through my chest. Part of the reason she brought him back was for me.
And even though I know her choice was her own, even though I know she believed in it with everything she was…
I hate that I was even a small part of the reason Aran is hurting.
He had become someone I truly cared for.
I loved him as a brother, and seeing him broken because of choices tied to me, feels like a weight I’ll never fully set down.
I watch them for a brief second longer, committing the image to memory, before turning to leave.
My cloak swishes softly behind me as I walk back through the corridor, the sound barely audible against the stone.
Beneath it, I’m still wearing my silk nightgown, the thin, dark fabric clings softly to my skin, caressing my thighs as I move.
It should be warm enough. It’ll been June soon.
The air outside the castle has been thick with warmth for a while, heavy with the promise of a sweltering summer.
And yet, the castle is always so godsdamned cold.
The chill seeps into my bones no matter the season, a lingering reminder that Hell was never built for comfort.
I wrap my arms around myself as I walk, more out of habit than anything else, the cloak doing little to keep the cold at bay.
I still haven’t returned to our joint room. I don’t know why, exactly. I guess part of me feels like going back there would mean going backwards. It was ours before everything changed so drastically. Before death and rebirth and war tore through our lives and left nothing untouched.
Our current chambers are different. Not much smaller, but they’re quieter. They’re where I changed as a person. Where I learned how to stand alone. Where I stopped waiting to be saved and started becoming something stronger. It’s where I became a queen.
As I walk through the dim corridor back towards my room, the air cold against my skin, I realise something else too, something that settles deep inside.
Watching Korithax let someone in, even if it wasn’t me, sparked something warm inside me.
It means he’s not alone anymore. And that has to count for something.
“Sunshine Queen…”
I turn over in the bed, instinctively reaching for the other side despite knowing it will be cold. My fingers brush empty sheets, the chill seeping into my palm. A soft sigh slips from me as I let my hand linger there for a moment before my body drifts back towards sleep.
“Sunshine Queen!”
My eyes crack open.
I blink into the dimness of the room, frowning slowly as I push myself upright and rub the sleep from my eyes. I could have sworn I just heard—
“Sunshine Queen. Meet me in the fields. It is urgent.”
My head snaps to the window.
Pale light bleeds through the glass, the sky painted crimson and deep blue. It can’t be later than five in the morning. The world still feels half asleep, and yet I’m being summoned from my bed.
I know that voice, though. It’s one I haven’t heard often, but one I’d never forget. Vesindiyah.
I scramble from the bed, my pulse picking up pace, and hurry into the closet.
I tug on a plain pair of black trousers, a loose black blouse, and sturdy black boots.
I strap my dagger to my thigh out of habit, the familiar weight grounding me, then sheath the sword Elyistria gifted me to my back—its presence a quiet reassurance pressed along my spine.
I throw on my cloak over everything, pulling up the hood without bothering to fix my messy braid.
I step towards the door—and stop. She said it was urgent, and the last time I saw her, my guards had threatened her. I still remember the way her massive form had bristled, the tension in the air crackling dangerously. I don’t want her to feel cornered again. Not now. Not if she’s come to warn me.
My gaze drifts towards the narrow passageways lining the far wall.
I sigh. “The last time I went through passageways,” I mutter under my breath, “I got drugged and strung up in a basement. This better go way smoother this time.”
The pep talk I give myself does nothing to settle my nerves.
My pulse is still hammering as I slip inside, easing the hidden panel shut behind me.
The air is cool and musty, the stone flooring beneath my boots coated in a layer of dust. I’ve never actually seen anyone use these passages, But Aran and Lyvia once told me they spiderweb through most of the castle.
I don’t need take them all the way, just far enough to exit without being noticed.
I follow the narrow corridor, one hand trailing along the rough wall to steady myself in the dim light.
My breathing sounds far too loud in the confined space.
Every creak of stone makes me jump. I peer through cracked doorframes as I pass forgotten rooms full to the brim with sheet-draped furniture, broken trunks, and relics no one has touched in decades.
At last, I reach an empty guest chamber that sits in the side I remember being decimated all those months ago by the Six in warning.
I should’ve ran for the hills then. I slip inside and cross to the door that leads to the hallway, easing it open inch by inch, holding my breath so tightly my chest aches.
Thank gods I’m greeted with silence. No guards, no servants, and not a single tiny echo of footsteps through the halls.
I exhale shakily, then hurry into the corridor and make straight for the doors leading to the outdoor training grounds.
They’re always locked tight at night—more to keep others out, than anyone in.
My fingers fumble on the large deadbolt, the metal scraping loudly in the quiet, panic prickling hotter with every wasted second.
Finally, it slides free with a thunk. I yank the door open just enough to slip through, then pull it shut behind me and break into a run. As suspected, the grounds are deserted.
I pause only long enough to listen. Nothing but the whisper of a breeze over stone, and the distant cry of some waking creature beyond the walls.
Then I sprint across the arena. Sand sprays beneath my boots, grit catching the hem of my dark cloak as it snaps wildly behind me.
Sweat beads along my spine almost instantly despite the early hour.
The air is warm already—thick, humid, and promising a brutal day once the sun rises fully.
The sun hasn’t crested the horizon yet, but it’s close. The horizon bleeding gold. If I don’t hurry, I’ll be caught.
Guilt twists in my stomach as I run. My guards are only doing their jobs. They’re trying to keep me safe. Trying to protect their queen from every threat lurking beyond these walls. But right now, Vesindiyah’s safety matters too.