“Enough,” he growls, the sound more beast than man. He hurls a log into the fire with a violent snap and rises to his feet, towering as he rounds on me, his face carved in shadow. “What do you want from me, Amara?” His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, but beneath it, there’s a thread of something raw. Something vulnerable. “Why do you torment me the way you do?”
I take a step back, confusion and hurt tightening in my chest. “Tormentyou?”
“I didn’taskfor a wife,” he bites out, his tone fierce, but I see the flicker of anguish in his eyes. “My life was simple before you came here. My only thoughts were of the next battle, the next drink. But now—” He stops, chest heaving, and a muscle jumps in his jaw as he forces the words out. “Now I care about The Grove because you care about it. I care if you’re cold, if you’re hungry, if you’re sad. I care about every damn thing you care about.” He shakes his head, voice breaking on a bitter laugh. “I never wanted to, but I do. I tried to play my part, but every time I got too close to you, I had to push you away. I had to stop… stop before.” He takes a breath, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re stripped bare, filled with something that twists painfully in my chest. “Before I was undone by you, and lost control completely.”
My chest aches, but I recall the coldness of his words when he told them all to send me away
“You do nottreatme like someone who cares.”,
“I care so much it feels like it’s ripping me apart, and I can’t—” He cuts off, a tremor running through him as he closes the distance between us. He reaches for me, then stops short, his hand hanging in the space between us, trembling. “Why, Amara?” His voice drops to a broken whisper, his gaze desperate and pleading. “Why do I care about you so much that it hurts?”
The room is silent, save for the rain pounding the stone and the wild hammering of my heart. I stare up at him, speechless, the air between us thick and suffocating.
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I whisper, my voice raw. “But if what you’re saying is true, you can’t keep pushing me away.”
Daed’s exhale is sharp, edged with frustration. “You haven’t exactly welcomed me with open arms either, wife.”
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words. “I know. So much has happened so fast. It feels like I haven’t had a moment to breathe, let alone make sense of the mess inside me. But I do feel something for you, Daed. Even when I wish I didn’t.”
My gaze lingers on him, drawn by a mix of longing and defiance. I reach for his face, my fingers aching to feel the hard, smooth planes of his skin. But he turns away, and the movement is a brutal severing, as if every stitch his words had woven in my heart tears open again.
“I can’t let myself fall for you, Amara,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “It would only bring you pain, and I’d rather die than be the one to cause it.”
His eyes flicker to the cut on my neck, and I see it—the anger flooding back into his gaze. His jaw tightens, and his hand hovers over the mark, fingers trembling.
“Arax should have been there,” he growls, low and dangerous. The heat from his body feels close, almost suffocating, but his hand remains suspended, just out of reach. “He must suffer for his failure.”
“No,” I snap, my voice harsher than I meant, the frustration of his constant push and pull finally boiling over. His moods hit me like whiplash, leaving me raw and reeling. Daed’s eyes lock onto mine, a mix of anger and confusion flashing in their depths.
“Youshould have been there,” I press, my voice tinged with raw bitterness. “When you choose them to be, your words are passionate, fierce—but when I truly needed you, when it mattered most, you were nowhere to be found.”
His expression darkens as looms over me, rain trailing down his neck, dripping over the runes carved into his chest. His breath is hot against my cheek, and for a moment, it’s all I can focus on.
“When you called," he says, voice low, a storm brewing beneath it. “I came.”
But his words don’t chase away the memory of Modok’s filthy hands, the vile things he whispered in my ear—worse than any waking nightmare I've ever had. The feel of his grip on me crawls under my skin, and a cold shudder runs through me. I bite downon the whimper threatening to escape, tears burning at the back of my eyes.
“The things he said…” My voice trembles, but I force myself to stop before the tears fall.
Daed reaches for me again, his hands hovering, so close I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His eyes are desperate, full of the same torment I feel, as if he’s aching to pull me into his arms. But again, he stops himself, retreating to the place he always does.
“I will kill him for this,” he growls, spinning away from me, his back stiff, his fists clenched at his sides. He faces the fireplace and grips the mantle. “And anyone who keeps me from him.”
“Your father won’t allow it,” I say softly, my voice steady even though my tears still threaten to fall.
“Andanyonewho keeps me from him,” Daed repeats, his voice thick with fury. He grabs a flint and steel from the mantle, striking them together over the wood in the fireplace until a spark ignites. He crouches down, the glow of the flame illuminating his intense gaze as he nurtures it, feeding it kindling and coaxing it to life.
Silence stretches between us until he finally speaks again, his voice calm but commanding. “You need to get undressed.”
The words make my pulse quicken and my stomach tighten at the thought, a flutter of nerves mixing with something else entirely.
“You’re soaked,” Daed says, more softly now, his tone almost concerned. “You already struggle to heal here. I don’t want you to get sick.” He jerks his chin toward the bed. “One of my shirts is there. Put it on.”
My eyes dart to the black silk shirt lying neatly on the edge of the bed. I swallow, my throat tight, every nerve in my body on edge. The rain may have chilled me, but the tremble in my fingers is from something else entirely.
Daed senses my hesitation. He turns fully, his broad back to me, muscles still tense. “Change,” he repeats, his voice low. “I won’t turn around until you tell me.”
I stand there for a moment, the weight of the decision heavy between us. My heart races, my hands shaking as I slowly drag the soaked nightgown over my head. The fabric clings to me, making it harder to pull off, and for a brief moment, I’m standing in the pale light of the moon, bare and exposed. My skin prickles, the air cool against me, but Daed doesn’t move.
