She steps closer, so close I can feel the heat of her body. Her hand rests lightly on my belly, the touch both intimate and invasive. “But I couldn’t save you from everything. You brought something back with you from Pariseth.”
Her fingers tighten slightly, and my breath catches. I stare down at her hand, heart pounding. “That’s not possible.”
Zyphoro’s smirk deepens. “Oh, Amara. You’re not that innocent. You know it is.”
I swallow hard, my mind spinning. “Even if I am… how couldyoupossibly know?”
“I’m attuned to the void,” she replies, her voice low and certain. “And the life growing inside you—it's a part of the void.”
A tremor runs through me, and I don’t know whether to laugh or collapse under the weight of it all. Zyphoro’s hand drifts away, her face distant, as though lost in some private thought. “Daedalus will come for you,” she continues, her voice heavy with meaning. “That much is certain. But for what purpose, I cannot say. All I know is, I will do what I can to keep you safe. For the sake of my cursed bloodline, and yours.”
Her words linger in the air long after she leaves me standing there, alone with the enormity of what I now carry. Slowly, hesitantly, my hands sweep across my stomach, cradling it as if I might feel something—anything. But I don’t. I’m not attuned to the void. Yet in the quiet recesses of my heart, I know Zyphoro speaks the truth.
Daedalus and I have created something… something born of both smoke and vine. Beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. There’s no escaping it now—this bond between us—this force that ties us together.
Forever.
Chapter 29
Valorne is just as breathtaking as I remember, a tapestry of rolling hills and lush forests that seem to stretch endlessly. The sky above is a vibrant blue, unmarred and pure, with fluffy white clouds lazily drifting across its expanse. And the sun—there’s no warmth like it anywhere in the Sundered Kingdoms, not even in Pariseth. It bathes the landscape in a golden glow, making everything feel alive and vibrant.
In the distance, the town of Kale Harbour comes into view, but we won’t dock the Mordorin ship there; it would draw far too much attention. Instead, Arax deftly guides us into a sheltered cove, releasing the anchor with a splash that echoes against the tranquil water. His gaze sharpens as he scans the horizon, assessing the distance to the shore.
“Shall I carry you to land, Princess?” he asks, extending his hand to me.
Before I can respond, Zyphoro steps forward, her lips curling into a grin. “Family should have that honor,” she says. Her wings, dark and sleek, burst from her back with a snap, the black feathers unfurling like shadows stretching against the sky.
“Very well,” I say, but just before she lifts me into her arms, I catch her gaze. “Do not tell them.”
My voice is low and steady, though my heart is anything but. If I am carrying Daed’s child, I’m not ready for anyone else to know. Not until I’ve had time to make peace with it myself.
Zyphoro tilts her head, amusement flickering across her face. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replies softly. “Such bonny news should come from your lips only.”
With ease, she lifts me into her arms. Her strength is both surprising and effortless. Her wings beat once, twice, and we rise into the sky. Below, Arax and Solena follow, flying low as we leave the ship behind and head inland.
As we near The Grove, nestled in the heart of Valorne, it unfurls before us, cradled in a deep valley and framed by mountains that stretch toward the clouds. Once, it was even larger—an endless expanse, until the Maledannan Fae burned half of it to ash and another third fell during the Betrayer’s Battle. Yet, the forest endures, resilient in its beauty, and in time, the trees will reclaim their former glory. They tried to destroy it for good, but the roots of The Grove run deep.
At the mouth of the forest lies an open field, where long grasses sway and wildflowers bloom in vibrant colors. To an outsider, it might seem a serene and pretty spot, but for me, it is forever stained by memory. It was here that the Mordorin made their final stand on the last day of the war. They emerged victorious, but at a tremendous cost, and The Grove bore the brunt of that battle.
That day still haunts me—the flames licking the sky, the echoes of screams, the acrid smoke that filled the air, suffocating me, burning my eyes and stealing my breath. It was the last day I saw my parents. So now, as I glimpse smoke rising from the mountains, my stomach tightens with dread.
“What is that?” I murmur, my voice barely audible against the wind. “It is not coming from The Grove.”
Zyphoro’s gaze follows mine, her expression unbothered, a stark contrast to the chill that runs through me. “No. It is just beyond the mountains. An army camp.”
“The Legion of Saints,” I say, more to myself than to her.
A wicked grin curls her lips. “A pleasure I missed out on from my cage. Perhaps if I had been free, we would have won that war.”
I frown, my thoughts turning. “Youdidwin that war.”
She laughs, the sound grating against the reality that weighs on me. “Did we? Half the great houses destroyed, and barely enough Mordorin left to hold another uprising at bay. Sounds more like a delay than a victory. Who leads this pitiful army?”
“They call him the Golden Son,” I say. “As a boy, he was scarred by fire when his village was razed to the ground. Now he wears a mask of gold.”
Zyphoro chuckles, her grin widening. “How dramatic. I can’t wait to rip off that pretty mask and gouge his eyes out.”
The viciousness of her words sends a shiver through me, but I welcome her fury. We will need that fire if we are to defeat the Legion. After witnessing Zyphoro’s prowess in Baev’kalath, I know she will be a formidable weapon for The Grove.
