“Good evening, wife,” Daed says, and I turn to see him crouched on the railing, his wings folded neatly behind him, rain glistening on his brow.
“I’d prefer you use the door,” I reply, choosing not to look at him again.
Instead, I hear the soft thud of his boots as he jumps down, striding towards me. He joins me beneath the eaves, and even as I try to ignore it, I feel the magnetic pull of his presence.
“Are you looking forward to our trip?” he asks, his voice smooth and teasing.
“Well I knowyouaren’t,” I snap, my irritation flaring as he paces behind me. “I’m surprised you haven’t disappeared to avoid it altogether.”
“I’ve had time to make peace with being exiled with you,” he replies, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
My face tightens with frustration. “How very gracious of you, husband.”
He steps into my chambers and exhales, glancing around. “It looks like the servants did an excellent job scrubbing the Mor’Thravar blood from your floor. Though I see they’ve replaced the rug.”
The rug was the first thing that caught my eye when I returned last night, exhausted and shaken after Frane threw me off a cliff. I finally turn to face him as he paces the room, arms crossed over his chest.
“Yes, you’d never know someone was decapitated in here,” I reply with a hint of sarcasm, prompting a throaty laugh from Daed.
“They released Modok, you know,” he says abruptly, the laughter fading from his voice. “Nyraxes took him back with her when they returned to Mor’Thravar.”
“I’m not surprised,” I reply, lingering just outside the archway. “Your father made it clear they need his house.”
Daed studies me, curiosity etched on his features. “And what do you think about that, wife?”
“It infuriates me,” I snap, my anger bubbling to the surface. “I wish he were dead. I wish you had killed him.”
His eyes flash, and he seems to absorb the tension in my voice.
“But I also know that if he aligns with your Ebon Flight, The Grove will be safe—and that is all that matters.”
He sighs, feigning boredom. “Do you never grow weary of putting others before yourself, Amara?”
“Do you ever tire of thinking only of yourself?” I retort, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.
Daed smiles, his canines glinting in the dim light. “You continue to fascinate me.”
I shake my head, determination hardening my expression. “I won’t engage in this with you tonight, Daed,” I say firmly. “I’m not a toy for you to play with whenever you’re bored and then discard when you lose interest.”
“Oh Amara,” he laughs, tilting his head slightly. “We haven’t even begun to play.”
Suddenly, the doors open, and I gasp as the wind rushes in, breaking the spell of Daed’s gaze. Orios stands tall, fist pounding against his chest.
“We’re ready to leave for Pariseth,” he announces.
“Excellent,” Daed replies, gesturing toward my bags at the foot of the bed. “Gather the princess’ things and let’s take to the air.”
“From here, Your Highness?” Orios asks, motioning toward the balcony.
“My wife prefers I use the door,” Daed sighs, his smirk irritating me as I roll my eyes. “We’ll depart from the courtyard.”
Orios bows. “Yes, Your Highness.”
As Daed exits the room, Orios moves to collect my bags, standing by the door, waiting for me to pass.
“Princess Amara,” he says, his voice low enough to avoid attracting attention.
I pause and turn to him. “Yes?”
