“You have once again shown this great house how much we rely on your strength and wisdom. I hereby relieve you of your post as the princess’s bodyguard and reinstate you as a Reaper of House Mordorin. In the prince’s absence, you will serve at my side as we deal with these feuding thrall houses.”
Arax glances at me briefly, but quickly lowers his gaze. “I am honored, Your Majesty. But I have sworn to protect the princess.”
“You still shall.”
“But—”
“Arax,” Kaelus’s tone tightens, leaving no room for further protest. “This is not a request.”
Arax bows his head deeper. “Yes, Your Majesty. I live only to serve House Mordorin.”
Kaelus waves a hand, dismissing the room. “You may all go.”
The throne room empties with the scrape of footsteps and the echo of armor, until only Daed, the king, queen, and I remain. Lanneth steps forward, her long, willowy arms extending towardme, leaving no room to refuse as she takes my hands in hers, her grip tighter than necessary. She pulls me to my feet, her fingers coiling around mine like vines.
“This is for the best, daughter,” she says, her voice too smooth, too sincere. “We’ve failed to protect you twice in as many days, and if anything were to happen to you, this house would be lost.”
I force a smile, though the frustration simmers beneath my skin. I can’t decide if the queen is my ally or my enemy, and it grates on me more each day. When she thinks I’m not looking, I catch the same disdain in her eyes that the other Fae have for me—like I don’t belong here. But then there are moments like this, when she guards my safety so fiercely, I almost believe she truly wants to protect me.
Only Lanneth knows what’s going on in her mind, but I wouldn’t dare attempt to unravel her motives. That’s a web I’ve no desire to get caught in.
“My place is here, Father,” Daed protests, spinning on his heel to face the king, his back now turned to me. “Let Death Singer and I remind the houses of who they are dealing with. I am the Ebon Flight’s greatest warrior.”
“Which is exactly why you should be the one to protect your wife,” Lanneth cuts in smoothly, her voice sharp as glass. “Do you not care for her safety?”
Daed throws a sharp glare over his shoulder, eyes flashing. “Send her to Pariseth. Take every Reaper we have, send Arax himself, if you must. But do not sendme.”
I flinch, trying to swallow the ache of his bitter words. It’s as if the promises he whispers to me in the dead of night mean nothing in the daylight. The same man who holds me close when no one is watching, once again, wants nothing to do with me.
Kaelus exhales a long, measured breath, his patience wearing thin. “Why must everyone test me today? Am I not king? Is my word not law?”
“Father,” Daed grinds out between clenched teeth, “I do not wish to go.”
Kaelus’ hand grips Daed’s shoulder and I see Daed’s head drop as he realizes the decision is final. “This bride of yours is the future of our house. There is nothing more important. Do you understand?”
Daed gives only a slight nod, his resistance crumbling as Kaelus strides past him, offering his arm to Lanneth. She takes it with a graceful motion, and together, they turn to me, dipping their heads in a rare gesture of respect.
“Have a safe journey, Amara,” Kaelus says, his voice steady but distant. “By the time you return, the houses will be united once more.”
The words hang in the air like a promise I no longer trust.
The king and queen leave, and the silence between Daed and me is vast enough to drown in.
“What is Pariseth?” I ask, keeping my tone sharp. I want facts, not excuses.
Daed doesn’t turn to face me, still chewing on the nail of his thumb. “It’s an island within our territory. It sits in the eye of a storm—deadly to anyone foolish enough to enter.”
“And that’s where you’re sending me for my safety?” I can’t help the bite in my voice, the disbelief.
He straightens at that, and for the first time, I catch a glimpse of his gray eyes as he glances over his shoulder. “The island within the storm is beautiful. More beautiful than anything you'll ever lay eyes on in the Untold Seas. Grass and…”
“Grass?” I snap, rising to my feet. “And what else?”
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips, cracking through the stony mask he wears. “Flowers. There’s a castle there. A sanctuary, used as a safe haven when needed.”
“I’ll go,” I blurt out, with the thought of grass between my toes and the softness of petals against my skin already overtaking my mind. “I’ll pack now.”
I move to pass him, heading for the stairs, but his hand closes around my wrist—gently, not like I expect. It catches me off guard. His chin dips to his chest, those dark, unruly curls hiding his eyes.
