“Do you have a better idea?” I ask, matching her tone. “One that doesn’t involve cutting off my husband’s head?”
Her expression flickers with disappointment. “In the end, it must be one or the other. For Daedalus to be truly free of him, Gygarth must die.”
I scoff, the idea ludicrous. “You can’t kill a god.”
Zyphoro taps her chin thoughtfully. “That’s only because no one’s tried.”
“Perhaps we let Princess Amara recover from childbirth before we discuss killing gods, Zyphoro?” Reon interjects, his tone light but enough to shift the conversation.
I'm grateful for the distraction.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “We’ve got some cheese, I think, a few other bits and pieces. It’s no feast, I’m afraid.”
“No, I’m fine,” I reply, giving a small shake of my head. “It’s just... nice to walk around without feeling that collar around my neck.”
“Collar?” He raises an eyebrow.
I nod, a faint bitterness lacing my words. “They put one on me to numb my powers. Ashen too.”
The Fae exchange knowing, silent glances.
“Such tools are forbidden,” Reon mutters.
“I’ll be sure to mention that next time,” I say.
“Anethesis truly had gone rogue,” Zyphoro muses. “What did he want from you, Amara?”
Too many questions, and I have too few answers. But maybe, just maybe, they can make sense of all this.
Before I can speak, the cabin door creaks open on its hinges. Daed steps onto the deck, the wind immediately tugging at the loose fabric of his shirt as he slides his arms through the sleeves with a quiet wince. His gaze sweeps over the deck until it snags on me, those silver eyes narrowing, gleaming like storm light.
“You’re out of bed… again.”
“Our daughter sleeps, and I am restless,” I reply.
A slow grin spreads across his face. “I would expect nothing less.”
Sea air threads through his hair, salt clinging to his skin that is far bronzer than I’ve ever known it to be. He’s nothing like the pale prince I left behind. The sun has kissed away his polish, leaving behind something rougher, more untamed. Every muscle is leaner, every sinew taut. My heart stumbles, my stomach tightens in a slow, curling heat. Souls, heis as beautiful as I remember, but this version of him, this hardened, wilder Daed, stirs something even deeper.
He closes the distance between us in a few long strides. His arm slips around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and his fingers comb through my hair before settling at the nape of my neck.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,” he murmurs. The rasp of his voice, the weight of his stare. It knocks the air from my lungs. “I need you to myself. Now.”
The words send a shiver through me, my mind momentarily blanking. His voice is all I hear, the shape of his mouth all I see. I forget, just for a moment, that we are not alone.
Then the cabin door opens again, and Solena steps onto the deck.
Her fingers are smudged black with ink. She’s changed, too. Her skin bronzed from the sun, her once-waifish frame stronger. Her hair is longer now, left loose in a way she never allowed before, save for a few thin braids framing her sharp features. She has always been stunning, but suddenly I notice it far more than I once did.
She inclines her head. “Hello, Amara.”
“Solena,” I say, nodding in return, though the air between us feels strange. Tense. Like speaking to a ghost of someone I used to know.
Before I can dwell on it, Daed’s fingers tighten in my hair, his lips brushing my temple as he leans close.
“Shall we go below?” he asks, voice dark with promise.
Reon chuckles. “Give the lass a moment to breathe, will you?”
