“That’s… a lot of time alone together,” I say, before I can stop myself. “Touching.”
Solena’s nose wrinkles. “Touching?” she repeats, like the word itself is offensive.
I don’t want to say another word. I don’t want to embarrass myself further, but when Solena’s eyes widen with realization, I know I’ve already said too much.
“Amara,” she says, her voice stern. “You don’t think… you can’t possibly believe…”
“I don’t,” I blurt, heat rushing up my neck, burning my cheeks. “Of course not.” I wave my hands as if I can scatter the words hanging between us. “I’m not myself. My emotions are all over the place. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”
The words pour out fast, unfiltered, desperate to fill the space before she can speak again. Before the silence turns thick enough to choke me. I’m rambling, trying to outrun the shame twisting in my gut, but then she grabs my wrists, firm and grounding, and my breath catches.
Her grip is steady. Her gaze, sharper than steel.
“Amara,” she says again, quieter this time but no less intense. “Listen to me. There is nothing between Daedalus and me. I ink the sigils. That is all.”
Her fingers tighten slightly.
“Not only would I never betray you like that, but my heart doesn’t beat for him. It never could. Orios holds it, wholly.”
I sag beneath the weight of her honesty. My shoulders collapse inward, my chin dropping to my chest. “Forgive me,” I whisper, shame curling tight inside me. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She leans down until her face is level with mine, and I feel her eyes pull me back to her. I force myself to meet them.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she says gently. “You’ve been kidnapped, tortured, dragged through the void, and given birth in the aftermath. You’re standing in the ruins of everything you thought you understood.”
She lets out a quiet breath, then adds with a faint smile, “Not to mention the part where you burst into green flames and walked away without so much as a scratch. But I imagine you’ll tell me more about that when you’re ready.”
It’s enough to pull a smile from me, but it withers just as fast.
“You and Orios,” I say, worrying my lower lip, trying to bite back the nerves. “You trust him?”
Solena’s head tilts, her brow knitting. “Of course I do. With my heart. With my life.”
I nod, lips twitching toward a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. It’s a cover, flimsy and transparent. She sees right through it.
“Daedalus,” she says slowly. “You don’t trust him?” A pause. “You think he’d be unfaithful?”
I let my head fall back, exhaling long and low. “No. It’s not that.” I glance at her, the ache tightening in my chest. “I know he loves me… fiercely. But there’s so much I don’t know about him. Parts of him locked behind doors he doesn’t let anyone near. Secrets scratching at the inside of him like claws in the dark.”
My voice drops. “He knew. About Lanneth. About the sacrifice. That it was his role to give me a child and then lead me to slaughter.”
Her expression hardens. “But he stopped it. He chose you. He turned his back on his family, on his father, to save you.”
“I know,” I whisper. “And I’ve told myself that should be enough. That love like that should be everything.”
Solena’s gaze sharpens, searching. “I thought you forgave him. In the Grove.”
“I thought so too,” I murmur, eyes drifting to the wall, trying to blink away the sting. “Part of me did. The part that still aches for him. That needs him. That wants him, even now. But the rest of me…”
My voice falters.
“Ronin,” I say. The name isn’t as hard to say as it once was. “He told me there’s no love without trust.”
Her expression sours instantly, that familiar scowl, the one she always reserved just for me, sliding into place. “What does it matter whathethinks?”
“I don’t know,” I admit, shoulders tightening. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”
But the way she keeps staring, eyes fixed and unrelenting, makes me wish I’d said nothing at all.
