I trace the delicate gold stitching along the edges, recalling the night my sisters gifted it to me, their voices wishing me well. It feels like a lifetime ago.
“Will these do, Your Highness?” Solena’s voice pulls me from my reverie.
I nod, with an appreciative smile. “Yes. They’ll do just fine.”
Solena moves briskly, packing my bags and placing them at the foot of the bed. “You must be excited to spend time alone with the prince, after everything that’s happened these past few days.”
I swallow hard, my throat tightening. “If only things were that simple between us.”
“Perhapshe’slooking forward to it, then,” Solena offers, her tone light.
I shake my head, a bitter scoff escaping. “I doubt it. Daed has made it clear that he prefers the company of others. For the longest time, I thought it was you warming his bed at night… or maybe one of the other maids.”
Solena’s movements still. She takes a deep breath before speaking. “You shouldn’t put stock in gossip, Your Highness. But I should have silenced those rumors when they first started. The truth is, I was unsure of you back then.”
“What rumors?” I ask, my curiosity flaring.
“Prince Daedalus has never shared his bed with a maid here in Baev’kalath, or anywhere else, as far as I know. In fact, he’s had no contact with any women in years.”
My head jerks up, disbelief clear on my face. “Then why did the maids say otherwise? Why did Daed himself…” I stop short, unwilling to reveal the humiliation of being told by my own husband that I didn’t entice him. “I just assumed,” I finish weakly.
“There’s no need for assumptions,” Solena says, her voice steady. “I can assure you, there is no one else.” She leans in, her expression softening with a wry smile. “The help always know, Your Highness. Will that be all?”
“Yes. Thank you, Solena,” I manage.
She backs toward the door, head bowed, then quietly closes it behind her. She likely doesn’t realize the merciful relief she’s given me—relief I wish had come much sooner.
For now, I cannot allow Daed to plague my thoughts, which seems fitting, as he’s wasting no time thinking of me. The prospect of touching soil and grass again, feeling the sun on my skin, feels like a sweet escape from the uncertainty he offers.Away from Kaelus and Lanneth and this dreadful place, I might even start to feel like myself again—regain color in my cheeks and not constantly crave sleep.
“You cannot go.”
The room grows cold, shadows closing in until I feel their weight surrounding me. In the corner, a dark figure undulates, gliding across the stone like smoke.
“No. Not now,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “No imagining things right now, Amara.”
“I am the bones that rattle beneath the stone. I am not here, yet I cannot leave. If you go to Pariseth, your fate will be the same.”
“If I go to Pariseth, the king and queen promise I will be safe.”
“You are not safe anywhere the prince is. He will be your ruin.”
I square my shoulders and stare down the figure, forcing my voice steady. “If you want to help me, why don’t you do something other than whisper cryptic messages? How can I trust you are truly on my side?”
“I have never claimed to be your friend Amara. Baev’kalath is a dark place, full of dark things, and I am no better. But only death waits for you here. You must feel it.”
The words turn my blood to ice. “Of course I do. But there is no escape.”
“Awaken, Amara Tyne. You must awaken.”
“I don’t know what that means!” I shout.
Suddenly, an image slashes through my mind, bright enough to blind me. I stumble forward, bracing myself against the bed as my eyes squeeze shut. It lasts less than a second, but it’s burned into my memory—the portrait of the pregnant Fae hanging above Daed’s fireplace. My eyes fly open.
“Wait. Do you know who that woman is?”
But when I search the shadows for the apparition, it vanishes, leaving me alone with my unanswered questions. I clench my fists at my sides, fighting against the urge to wish it all away. I cannot let Baev’kalath drive me mad; I refuse to let it claim victory over me. The ghosts that roam these halls must be figments of my imagination. I must keep telling myself that.
I spend the afternoon in my room, pretending not to glance over at Daed’s tower. Eventually, exhaustion pulls me under, despite my desperate attempts to stay awake. When I awaken hours later, the moon hangs high in the sky, and relief is nowhere to be found. Cradling my head in my hands, I breathe through the familiar ache. I hoped the headaches had ceased, but it appears not. A glass of water helps a little, and I step onto my balcony, taking in the pitch-black sky as rain pours down in steady sheets.
