For though I may be a prince, a warrior, a Fae who commands smoke and shadows, though I may make my enemies kneel and feast on their fear, I am utterly helpless against the force that shares my body. The vile essence that taints my blood.
I would rather endure an eternity of solitude, clinging to the memory of what could have been, then see something so splendid as her torn from this world because of me.
And so I will lie. To Arax. To Eryndor. To the king and queen. I will lie to protect her.
A knock at the door breaks through my thoughts, and I take another long swig before calling out. “What is it?”
The door creaks open, and a Blade steps forward. “Your Highness. We are ready to depart for Baev’kalath.”
I nod, dismissing him with a wave, eager to be alone again.
Sinking into the chair, the rum sloshes in the bottle as I tip it to my lips. The groan of the anchor being raised and the bustle of Blades readying the ship filters through the thick wooden walls, but it isn’t fast enough.
I wish to leave Valorne, never to set foot on its soil again, praying another five centuries pass me by without ever seeing Amara Tyne again. For both our sakes.
Chapter 6
Daed
After her.The scar on my palm stares back at me, a jagged, pale line carved into my flesh. A cruel reminder of the night Amara became my wife. I trace it with my thumb, feeling the ridges of old pain, and wonder how I ever thought I could defy fate. Our marriage was never a bargain struck in desperation; it was destiny, written in the stars long before I first laid eyes on her. But destiny is no kind force. It cares nothing for the lives it shatters, only that its plans unfold as ordained. Even Amara being stolen from me was likely etched into some distant constellation, and for that, I damn the stars to the void.
Her scar is gone now. Her power to heal ensures no mark remains to mirror mine. Yet I’ve left enough scars on her heart to more than make up for it.
The ship rocks gently as it docks in the harbor of Ballamar City, the humid air clinging to my skin like a second layer. The docks are chaos, a cacophony of creaking wood, shouting merchants, and the slap of waves against ship hulls. The sharp tang of salt saturates the air, mingling with the earthy scent of dust kicked up by hurried feet. Ahead, the streets simmer beneath a cloudless sky, the sun blazing mercilessly above. Tall sandstone buildings rise, their timeworn walls smooth and bleached by heat. Narrow alleys snake between them, shadows pooling in fleeting reprieve from the inferno.
I take a slow breath, letting the scene settle over me, wincing as vendors bellow their wares, their voices rising above the city’s relentless hum. There is nothing like this in the Sundered Kingdoms. Every land across the sea is stranger than the last, but none have brought me closer to her. Even now, with Reon’s flimsy leads, I fear this will only be another dead end, more precious time wasted. Impatience and dread gnaw at me as I watch barefoot children dart through the crowds, painfully reminded that more than Amara is at stake.
I’ve been merciful so far, using tact and diplomacy to gather whispers of House Ithranor’s plans. But I feel that mercy slipping away. How much longer until I tear what Ineed from anyone I suspect of withholding it, until I leave broken bodies in my wake and drown my enemies’ cries in blood?
“Daed,” Reon’s voice interrupts, his firm slap on my back dragging me from the edge of my violent imaginings. “We’re looking for the Red Room. The Ithranor we seek are said to frequent it.”
I grunt. “The Red Room? Sounds like a brothel.”
When Reon doesn’t answer immediately, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I swear, if this is an excursion for your fucking cock…”
He shakes his head quickly, but the poorly hidden smirk twitching at his lips betrays him. “Of course not. It’s just… a happy coincidence.” He glances around the ship, his brow furrowed. “Where is your sister?”
I lift my chin toward the city sprawling before us. “Somewhere out there. Hopefully not getting into more trouble. I’m in no mood to clean up another of her messes.”
“Yes, it is strange that you are not the reckless one,” Reon remarks with a smirk.
“I cannot afford to be,” I reply, my tone firm. “Not when the world is mine to lose.”
His fingers curl on my shoulder, his grip steady and reassuring. “We will find her, Daedalus. If we have to search every land beyond the sea, we’ll bring her back to you.”
A faint grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. Reon’s loyalty has never been in doubt. We’ve faced too much together, endured too many battles, for me to question his word. He didn’t need convincing to leave Eyr’Drogul; he volunteered before he even knew the dangers we would face. That kind of unwavering devotion earns a great deal of forgiveness, including his penchant for spending every quiet moment in the arms of some beauty. Human, Fae, or otherwise. If those nights leave him sharper and stronger when he rises, who am I to begrudge him his indulgences?
The ramp slams onto the dock with a jarring thud, and we disembark with our heads bowed, cloaks and hoods draped over us in an attempt to blend in. In this stifling heat, however, the layers do little but draw unwanted attention. Sweat clings to my skin, and the air is thick, almost suffocating, as we step into the chaos of Ballamar.
At the rear, Orios and Solena walk in step, their fingers brushing in a fleeting, intimate gesture. When I glance back, Solena’s eyes meet mine, and we exchange polite, strained smiles before quickly looking away.
She didn’t hesitate to join me, much like Reon. At first, I questioned what use a maid could be on a voyage across the seas, but after the Archdruid’s confession, I found herpurpose and it has proven invaluable. Solena is no longer just a maid; she’s the most critical member of my crew. The long hours we’ve spent together have unveiled parts of her I never would have known otherwise, bound as we are by one undeniable truth: a shared love for Amara.
Orios, naturally, follows wherever Solena goes. His love for her is endless, and in exchange for his service, I have released him from his Reaper’s vow. If he wishes to claim her as his mate, he has my blessing. It is a small price to pay for the loyalty of such a formidable warrior.
Reon sidles up to me as we weave through the bustling streets. “That one still hasn’t warmed to me,” he says, nodding toward Solena. “There must be something wrong with her.”
“She has standards, Reon,” I reply dryly, earning myself an elbow in the ribs. “Besides, she’s with Orios. Why would she show you even a hint of interest?”
