Zyphoro’s lips curl slowly, a knowing smile that feels like a blade to my heart. “No. It is not the truth.” Her eyes are merciless as they hold mine. “Daedalus knew. He knew all along, Amara.”
Her admission shatters something deep inside me, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. My chest tightens, my world narrowing into a suffocating tunnel as the weight of her words crashes down like a tidal wave.
Betrayal.
The word pulses through me, leaving cracks in my very soul. I cared for him. I trusted him, let him into my heart, my body. I had given him everything—pieces of myself I didn’t know I had to give.
And all the while, he knew.
He knew I was to be a sacrifice, that I would be handed over to the void like an offering, my life nothing more than a pawn in their dark game. I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands curling into fists as the flood of emotions crashes over me. I hold back the tears that blur my vision. I hate myself for them. I feel like I’ve been ripped open and left exposed.
I feel like a fool!
Zyphoro watches me, silent, perhaps even pitying me in her own cold way, but I don’t need her pity. All I need now is my rage.
“Princess,” Arax calls from the bow of the ship, his voice cutting through the wind. “You should see this.”
I stand, feeling Zyphoro’s gaze heavy on my back, but I don’t acknowledge her. Not now. Not after everything. Instead, I move toward Arax, joining him at the edge of the ship. When I follow his gaze, my breath catches in my throat, and for the first time since we left Baev’kalath, the weight of my anger lifts, even if just for a moment.
Land.
A sliver of green on the horizon, vibrant and alive, shimmering under the sun’s rays like a beacon. My heart lurches in my chest, and it takes a second for the joy to settle in, the disbelief warring with the reality before me. The Grove. My home.
The coastline comes into sharper focus, a blend of lush forests and rolling hills that stretch endlessly, their emerald hues reaching out toward the sky. Even from this distance, I can see the towering trees that define The Grove, their canopies thickwith life, leaves glistening as if they are welcoming me back. The winding rivers that snake through the land gleam like silver threads, their waters flowing toward the heart of the forest—the place I thought I might never see again.
My throat tightens as familiar landmarks take shape—the gentle rise of the mountains in the far distance, the cascading waterfalls. I know this place like I know my own heartbeat, and now, standing at the bow of this ship, I feel the pull of it, the overwhelming desire to set foot on that soil, to feel the embrace of the trees and the whispers of the wind.
“We will drop anchor when we get close enough,” Arax says, his voice steady despite the visible toll Lanneth’s fury has taken on him.
I study his face, noting the bruises, the cuts—marks of a battle fought not just with weapons but with will. Gently, I cup his jaw, my thumb brushing over the worst of the scrapes. “Look at what she’s done to you,” I murmur, guilt twisting in my chest.
His hand closes over mine, firm but tender. “No,” he says, his tone firm. “If you try to heal me again, I’ll toss that damned rune somewhere you’ll never find it.” His lips curve slightly, softening his words. “Besides, I look good with scars.”
A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth, and for a brief moment, everything lifts. “Yes,” I say, our hands lingering together. “I suppose you do.”
I leave Arax at the helm and find Solena on the deck. She stands nearby, casting wary glances at Zyphoro, who lounges beneath the sun, basking as if she hasn’t just shattered my world with her truths.
“I don’t like her,” Solena mutters under her breath.
“You don’t like anyone when you first meet them,” I remind her, my tone light despite the storm churning in my mind. “Remember?”
Solena’s glare could burn through stone. “I know for certain I permanently dislikeher.”
I place a hand on her shoulder, grounding both of us. “We’ll drop anchor soon and fly ashore. Then we’ll head straight to The Grove. I need to tell Keeper Tovar everything. There’s no time to waste.”
With reluctance, I approach Zyphoro once more.
She tilts her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Back already? I thought I’d scared you off.”
“We’ll drop anchor soon,” I reply, turning my back, eager to put distance between us.
“Wait.”
The word is a command, and despite myself, I stop. Her footsteps are soft behind me, and then she’s at my side, too close, her presence unsettling.
“I know I’ve said things you didn’t want to hear, and perhaps my delivery lacks... tact,” she says, her voice surprisingly gentle. “But believe me when I say all I ever wanted was to protect you. To spare you the fate my mother suffered. That’s all.”
I search her face for signs of deception, but all I find is the raw truth. “I believe you,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “You helped me escape Baev’kalath. For that, I am grateful.”
