I want Lanneth tosuffer.
I want Modok tosuffer.
I want Gygarth tosuffer.
I want The Golden Son tosuffer.
I crave pain for pain, and at last the word I’ve been searching for surges to the surface of my mind, bursting forth as if from the depths of the Untold Sea.
“I want revenge,” I gasp.
Daed freezes, his head lifting from between my breasts, his hand withdrawing from my robes. “What did you say?”
“I want revenge,” I repeat, feeling the word gain strength with each utterance. “I refuse to hide here in The Grove, living out my days oblivious to the horrors beyond these trees. They must pay, Daed.All of them.”
“Death?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.
I shiver at the thought. “If that’s what it takes.”
“The Golden Son will not be easy to face, wife. We encountered only a small sample of his army. Rumor has it he has gathered thousands in Rethmar, waiting for the right moment to attack Baev’kalath. For now, however, his ships are limited. When House Ithranor fled during the Betrayer’s Battle, they took most of their vessels with them.”
“Then we’ll need a larger army,” I reply, my determination unyielding. Although he has stopped exploring inside me, the heat between my legs remains.
“There is only one larger army,” he counters. As I watch his lips move, I ache to crash my mouth against his. “The houses of Mordorin, but the thrall houses only serve the king.”
I exhale, realizing that my lust intensifies with every mention of war and revenge.
“Then we make you king,” I mutter breathlessly.
Daed cups the back of my neck, the smile dancing on his lips enough to send me spiraling toward climax before he even enters me. “How fortunate I am to have such a wise wife at my side.”
He pulls me closer, our lips colliding in gasps. His canines graze my bottom lip as he fists my robe, the hem inching higher toward my hips. But when his hand hovers over my stomach, he stops cold. I continue kissing him, tangling my fingers in his hair, pulling him back to me. But he doesn’t respond.
“Husband,” I whisper, my lips still brushing against his. “What’s wrong?”
His hand flattens on my stomach, and my eyes widen.
“What is this, Amara?”
I gulp, scrambling for words. “I don’t know what you—”
“Don’t,” he snaps, his voice slicing through the air and sending birds fleeing from the trees. “Don’t lie to me. Not about this.”
“I don’t know for sure,” I say quickly. “Zyphoro says—”
“Zyphoro? She knows? Since when?”
I gulp again. “Since we arrived in Valorne.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“You were not here!” I protest, anger rising in my voice. “And if you recall, we were not doing well. Or had you forgotten that I found out you knew Lanneth was poisoning me with the void?”
He says nothing, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed coldly at me, the earlier desire replaced with an emotion I can’t quite place—anger, disappointment…no,fear. At first, I think this is part of our game, the passion between us fueled by our disagreements. But then he steps away, and the chill in his gaze seeps into my bones, leaving me shivering.
“Besides,” I gulp. “I thought you would have noticed sooner. Zyphoro sensed it immediately. She claims she’s attuned to the void and could feel it within me.”
“I didn’t,” Daed replies, his face etched in thought as he stares off into the distance. “Something didn’t want me to know.” He glances back at me from the corner of his eye. “Because it knew what I would do.”
