Slowly, his arms fold around me. His hand slips into my hair.
“There’s nothing to fear anymore,” Daed murmurs against my temple. “I’m here now, my love.”
I press closer and let my eyes fall shut, breathing him in.
Then, a thought slices through the quiet.
My head snaps up, gaze sweeping the deck.
“Where is Ashen?”
A pause.
“Ashen,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the name, like it’s foreign on his tongue.
I pull back just enough to search his face. “Did he come back with you?”
Another pause, and this time the flicker of something wrong behind his eyes. Something... empty.
I step away, inch by inch. His gaze follows, unblinking. Unnervingly calm.
“Where’s Zyphoro? Solena?” I ask, heart thudding now, faster and faster.
“In the castle,” he says. “They’re waiting for us.”
He extends a hand. Rain slides down his fingers like blood. “Come.”
But I don’t move.
I shake my head slowly, biting the inside of my cheek so hard I taste copper. I reach inward, past the storm and the fear, past the noise in my head, and search for what should be there.
The threads. The bonds. The shimmer of fate that ties me to him.
I find nothing.
“I don’t see them,” I murmur.
His brow creases. “See what?”
“The threads,” I say, louder now. “The Binds of Fate. I don’t see them between us.”
His jaw tightens.
“Amara,” he says, with a roughness in his voice. “Come to me. Now.”
I stare at him, every inch of him perfect. His eyes, his mouth. The face I have traced with my hands, kissed beneath moonlight. The face I have loved.
But it isn’t him.
There is no glamor. No Fae shimmer. No glittering edge of deception. Just a perfect replica of the male who owns my heart. But my soul does not answer his.
“Who are you?” I breathe. “Where is Daedalus?”
“You are confused,” he says, tone taut with irritation. “But my patience grows thin.”
I grit my teeth, refusing to flinch. “You’re not him. So tell me, who are you? And how do you wear his face?”
Then…thud. Heavy paws slamming onto wet wood draws both our attention toward the helm.
