“What use is an alliance with the humans,” Modok snaps. “Do they have an army? Something of worth?”
“No,” I hear Kaelus grumble.
“Then what!” Modok roars. “The prince should have been married to one of my sisters. My warriors are second only to the Blades. You know this.”
“Unfortunately, your sisters have proven themselves untrustworthy,” Kaelus replies curtly.
Modok goes quiet for a moment before muttering. “And she has been dealt with, has she not? I have others.”
“Can you remember the last time you saw a Fae baby, Modok?” Lanneth questions tersely. “House Mordorin doesn’t just need brides, it needs heirs. A human womb is easier to seed. After all these centuries, I would wager that Fae bastards outnumber we pure Fae.”
“So your selfishness would see our glorious Mordorin bloodline tainted with mongrels, then?” Modok snarls.
“Everything I do, I do for House Mordorin,” Lanneth replies, her voice a guttural whisper. “You can not dare to perceive the things I have done.”
“I don’t care,” Modok spits. “This marriage is treachery to our kind. As long as she is princess, Mor’Thravar’s wings stay sheathed.”
“You pledged an oath to serve!” Daedalus booms, his voice sending a shiver through me. “You will fulfil that oath or I will see your house burned to the ground.”
“Burn us to ash then,” Modok replies with venom. “And see all Mordorin fall to the Legion like the other houses.”
Even without seeing his face, I can feel the ire swelling within Daed, his voice a deep, gravely growl. “Or perhaps I cut you down right now? Maybe your sisters will hold true to their oaths when I serve them your head.”
“Enough!” Kaelus grunts. “Modok. Your king needs you. What price must be paid?”
“Banish the human, and Mor’Thravar remains yours to command, my king.”
Modok speaks so carelessly of me, as if I am property, not a person, and his request is such a simple thing. My heart beats so hard in my chest I fear its thumps will give me away. It feels as if a lifetime passes before anyone speaks again.
“Let us consider your bargain, Modok,” Kaelus finally replies in a slow exhale. “We will have an answer for you by morning.”
Without warning, the door swings open and Modok strides out. I throw my hand over my mouth, burying myself as deep into a darkened corner as I can. Fortunately, Modok has such fury in his step that he storms through the room, pushing his way past the tapestry without looking back.
I hold the sigh of relief in my chest. I won’t let that little breath be my undoing. But now the door is wide open, filling this room with candlelight, allowing no pockets of darkness for me to hide in. Do I sneak out, hoping that Daed and his parents do not walk by the door and see me? If I stay put, I will surely be found when they decide to rejoin the banquet.
I must try to make my escape.
“Your combativeness does nothing to keep the peace between us and Modok,” Kaelus says. “You know our position.”
“I do not understand why we are even negotiating with him,” Daedalus argues. “We are their lords.”
“It’s not as easy as that. Not now,” Kaelus says. “What would you have us do? Destroy them? We might as well destroy ourselves.”
I bite my lip, preparing to take a step towards the tapestry, but the next words from Daed’s mouth freeze me in place.
“Send her away,” he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. “Put her on a ship and send her back to The Grove.”
A pang strikes my heart and I’m suddenly cold. He is saying the words I’ve longed for since I first arrived in Baev’kalath. So why do they hurt like a dull blade through the chest?
“You would send your wife away with such ease, Daedalus?” Lanneth says.
All thoughts of escaping this room vanish as I press my cheek on the stone wall and wait for his answer.
“Yes,” he replies. “I do. Let me be rid of her now.”
The words pierces through me. His coldness towards me has always been clear, the distance and loathing in his eyes. It wasn’t so long ago that I loathed him myself, that his arrogance and cutting words stirred only anger in me. But somewhere in the midst of our clashes, something changed. Words slung in anger would spark and ignite in the air between us. It has been maddening… and intoxicating, but I’ve grown to crave those moments, those heated exchanges that leave my heart pounding long after he’s gone.
I thought—I dared to hope—whatever this is that he felt it too. I was wrong. Even in our most intimate moments, where my body silently but desperately yearned for his touch, it meant nothing to him. I was nothing to him. A burden. A nuisance. How could I have let this happen? I’ve been falling so fast I can’t even remember when I jumped.
