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He pulls the collar farther to the side, exposing the full length of the scar etched into my skin. His eyes drop to it, and the rage in his expression softens as he brushes his thumb across the hollow of my throat, the touch featherlight.

My eyes sting, and I blink hard, willing the tears to stay where they are. But the tenderness of his touch, the quiet understanding in his gaze, makes it impossible to hold them back. I turn away as the first falls, and Lyxander draws back his hand.

“I don’t know why Keres is still maintaining that we’re to be married. Worse still, I don’t know why my father hasn’t refuted it. Maybe he’s going along with it to prevent conflict.” I swallow hard, my next words sticking in my throat. “Maybe it’d be better if I handed myself over.”

“No.” The single word is sharp, final, cutting through the air like a blade.

His gaze drops, and for a moment, he seems far away, lost in a memory. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, almost hollow. “When I was captured, some of Keres’s guards saw my wings. I hid them before they managed to get that cursed collar around my throat, but it was already too late for that to matter.”

My blood turns to ice in my veins. “The scars…”

He nods, his jaw tightening. “He tried to cut my wings out. He couldn’t, of course. As I told you, they don’t go anywhere. They’re a part of our essence, so there was nothing for him to find. No matter how many times he attempted to force me to shift, I wouldn’t.”

The silence that follows is suffocating, the weight of his confession pressing down on both of us. I can’t find the words to respond, to even begin to imagine the pain he must have endured. I had assumed Keres only held him captive for the theïkós transference. But this…

I want to ask more. I want to know why he left the safety of his home when it’s clear he wasn’t meant to. But I’ve already pulled too many truths out of the dark tonight; some still cling to my skin like ash. And if I keep digging, I’m not sure I’ll be able to breathe under the weight of what I uncover.

“I know what it’s like being at his hands, Aella.” He shifts, turning to face me fully. “So if you think I’ll stand aside and let you hand yourself over, think again.”

I can’t look away, caught in the force of his stare, the raw conviction in his voice. Both settle over me, and the wind that had been howling around us softens.

Finally, I dip my chin in a small, deliberate nod.

He exhales, the quiet tension between us fraying. “Tomorrow, we must go to Aerilos.”

The shift in tone catches me off guard, the words taking a moment to sink in. “Is this because of what Silas said?”

He smirks. “It seems you can remove the bird from the Aviary, but you can’t dictate its flight.”

Heat rises to my cheeks, and I narrow my eyes as a laugh rumbles through him, the motion causing his shoulder to graze mine. The brief contact sends a shiver through me, but before I can dwell on it, his expression shifts again, the smirk fading into something more serious.

“But, yes. I was hoping to wait until you’d decided on emerging,” he admits, his gaze drifting toward the sea. “It seems we have run out of time.”

Chapter 26

Nyssa

“Here you go,” says the nymphai passing a crate to me. His moss-green eyes scan the burden in my arms before coming to rest on Thena, again. “Be careful with the lavender—it’s fragile.”

When Master Dimos assigned Thena and me the task of restocking the infirmary this morning, I couldn’t think of anything worse. The last thing I wanted was to spend the day hauling crates and sorting supplies, not after last night’s discoveries—or maybe the lack thereof—have soured my mood. The disappointment from the moment Kallias showed me the reports of Lord Cirillo’s death lingers, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve missed something, that the answer is still out there, just beyond my reach.

But now I find myself completely distracted from any self-pitying thoughts as I watch the soft flush rise on Thena’s cheeks.

Thena, who is always so composed, so reticent, is…blushing.

She seems to be rooted in place, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the edge of the crate she carries. Her face blooms, a deep, unmistakable pink that creeps from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. Finally, she clears her throat and meets his gaze. “Thank you, Deke.”

My eyes itch with the urge to blink, but I can’t look away.

“No need to thank me,” he replies with a playful wink as he backs away, sunlight glinting off the small horns peeking out of his tousled brown hair. “I’ll see you soon.”

We shuffle back into the palace through the service door, the scent of fresh lavender chasing us through the corridors. I glance at Thena, her cheeks still rosy, as she fixes her stare ahead.

“So,” I say, drawing out the word and fighting off a smile as her lips press into a firm line. “Deke, was it?”

Thena stiffens, her grip tightening on the crate she carries. “What about him?”

“Oh, nothing.” I smirk, raising my eyebrows. “Just wondering who the mysterious, lavender-loving helper is and why you’re blushing like that.”