“Daed!” I scream before an invisible bond clamps over my mouth, muffling my cries.
“I wanted to avoid such ugliness,” Anethesis sighs. “But I suppose this was never going to be easy.”
The other Fae surrounding the bed move closer as Daed struggles against his bonds, their combined power keeping him pinned down.
“Release her!” he shouts, smoke seeping from his eyes. But Anethesis waggles a disapproving finger.
“There will be none of that, Prince Daedalus, or she will be crushed like spoiled fruit.”
With a clenched fist, Anethesis applies pressure on either side of my body, squeezing me tightly and when my eyes widen with shock, Daed relents.
“I will give you anything, just release my wife,” Daed pleads, his voice strained.
Anethesis bows appreciatively. “Thank you for your compliance, Prince Daedalus. But that request would best be answered by our ally.”
The door of the bedchamber groans open, and all I can do is watch in silence as The Golden Son emerges from the shadows. Beneath the gilded armor and startling mask, I see him for what he truly is: the destroyer of my people and the murderer of my friend.
Daed’s teeth grit, and he jerks his wrists against the ropes of wind that restrain him, his gray eyes burning with rage.
“You look surprised, Prince Daedalus,” the Golden Son begins, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I don’t blame you. Things have taken an unexpected turn. Who would have thought I wouldn’t be alone in my hatred of you? It seems House Ithranor had grievances of their own. Once we sat down and spoke, we realized we had more in common than either of us could have guessed.” He circles the bed, his gaze locked on Daed’s face. “Crossing the Untold Sea to reach you was always going to be difficult for the Legion, but House Ithranor was more than happy to lend us aid.”
“If it’s Baev’kalath you want, then fine—take it!” Daed bellows, his voice full of defiance. “Just give me my wife, and we will leave.”
“You can keep your miserable rock,” the Golden Son laughs mockingly. “But perhaps there is something I could take instead.”
“Name it,” Daed hisses, his fury palpable.
The Golden Son stalks closer, the moonlight catching the sharply worked edges of his mask. “Release him,” he orders the Fae, and with a nod from Anethesis, they withdraw the bonds ofair. “Get up,” The Golden Son growls, and Daed obeys, though the ire at following commands burns across his face.
When Daed is on his feet, The Golden Son speaks once more. “Now get on your knees.”
Daed hesitates, his chest heaving with furious breath, his pride refusing to bend before anyone. But when Anethesis tightens his grip and a muffled cry escapes me, my prince reluctantly drops to the ground, defiance still simmering in his posture.
“Good,” The Golden Son says. “Now summon your wings.”
Daed furrows his brow. “What?”
“Summon. Your. Wings,” The Golden Son repeats tersely, impatience creeping into his voice.
Daed exhales sharply, arching his back as his black wings erupt from his shoulders, magnificent yet now a burden.
The Golden Son nods in approval. “Now, stay still.”
In one swift motion, the Golden Son draws his sword from its sheath and slices through Daed’s wing, severing it from his shoulder. Daed’s howl pierces the air, raw and primal, as the second wing is lopped off, both falling to the floor.
I scream into my bonds as blood streams from the ragged stumps on Daed’s back. He drops onto his hands, heaving for breath, and I’ve never seen him in such agony.
“There,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Now release her.”
“Oh, no. That was just for my own amusement,” The Golden Son replies coldly. “We will be taking the Jewel with us.”
“No!” Daed howls, struggling to his feet, desperation etched on his face. But The Golden Son meets him with a brutal kick to his face, sending him tumbling backward.
I continue to scream against my bonds as The Golden Son approaches. He stalks closer, his eyes roving over my thin nightgown and the goosebumps rising on my skin.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Jewel,” he says, his voice a velvety caress as he runs a knuckle along my arm. I instinctivelyflinch away, but he only grins in response. “She’s cold, Lord Anethesis. Shall we unbind her and let her fetch a robe?”
“Very well,” Anethesis replies, and with a flick of his wrist, my bonds are severed, sending me tumbling to the floor.
