“Besides,” Zyphoro adds, arms crossed. “She was just about to tell us what happened in Driftspire.”
Daed’s hold on me eases, but his attention sharpens. “Is that true?” His voice is softer now, careful. “Are you sure you want to talk about it?”
I nod. “I must tell you everything. I don’t fully understand what happened, but I fear it is far from over.”
Daed exhales slowly. “Very well.”
He keeps his arm draped around me as he guides me across the deck, back toward the door he came through. The others fall in behind us. When we reach it, he holds it open for me, but hesitates, his eyes flicking to the floor where the wet hem of my nightgown trails across the wooden boards.
His brow knits, gaze lifting to meet mine. He doesn’t speak, though I can tell he wants to. He knows just as well as I do why my nightgown is in such a state. Instead, he tilts his head toward the cabin, wordless in his urging, and waits until I step inside before following.
The cabin is dimly lit, the scent of salt and rum thick in the air. Chairs scrape against the wooden floor as they pull them up around the same table where Daed had been lying only moments ago, Solena carving sigils into his skin. Reon strides forward, dropping two bottles of rum onto the table with a satisfying thud before sliding glasses toward each of us.
I take a moment, letting myself linger on the edges, watching the way they move around each other.
Reon kicks his boots onto the table as he pours himself a drink. Across from him, Zyphoro twirls a strand of raven-dark hair around her finger, gaze flicking between Orios and Solena. Solena pulls out a chair, but before she can sit, Orios catches her by the waist and pulls her onto his lap instead, holding her there with a firm, claiming grip.
I wonder how many times they’ve sat around this table. How many bottles of rum they’ve emptied while I was caged in the sky.
The talks they must have had. The battles. The adventures. The misfortunes.
I have never felt at home among the Fae, never truly belonged. But watching them now, the ease of their movements, the unspoken language between them, I feel it even more acutely.
I am an outsider here.
Daed’s touch draws me from my thoughts as his fingers weave through mine, warm and steady. There is something in his smile, a quiet reassurance. A reminder that I am wanted.
“Go on then, wife,” he says, his voice low. “Tell us everything.”
I exhale, slow and measured, trying to find where to begin. “We sailed for days. I slept through most of it. They put a collar around my neck. Invisible, but I could feel it and when I tried to summon my power, it burned. It was bound to a chain, anchored deep in the floor. I spent every day and night locked in a tower high above Driftspire. Ashen…” my throat tightens, “they kept in a cage on the other side of the city.”
Daed’s expression darkens. His canines lengthen. “Anethesis.” He says the name like a curse. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not at first.” The words barely leave my lips before his grip tightens around my hand, his body tensing. “At first, he was kind. Then the trials began.”
Zyphoro leans forward, her gaze sharp. “Trials? For what?”
“He said they were tests,” I murmur. “And that if I passed, he would set me free. As soon as I opened the portal.”
Daed stiffens. “A portal to where?”
I hesitate. The name feels dangerous, even here. “Meranor.”
The silence that follows is absolute. Tension snaps through the room.
“Meranor?” Reon repeats, his voice eerily quiet. “You’re certain he said Meranor?”
I nod.
“That’s impossible.” Daed shakes his head. “There is no going back to Meranor.”
Zyphoro’s lips curve into something resembling a smile. “Unless the legends are true. That an Awakened can tear the fabric of worlds and lead the way home.”
“That’s all they are,” Daed snaps. “Legends.”
Reon scoffs. “Only because they killed the last Awakened before she had the chance to prove them true.”
Daed’s head whips toward him, his glare so blistering the room seems to darken under the weight of his fury.
