The bed looms between us, both a symbol of what we are and what we aren’t. My heart beats a little faster, confusion knotting itself into my thoughts. I swallow hard and glance at him again. He’s still staring at the bed, but then his expression tightens, his shoulders stiffening.
“There are other rooms,” he says, his voice measured, as if he’s carefully choosing each word. “I’ll stay in one of them.”
I blink, his words crashing into me harder than I expected. For a moment, I don’t know how to react. My lips part, but no sound comes out. Instead, I look back at the bed, its empty vastness suddenly mocking me. A part of me that desires him hoped he wouldn’t say that—that maybe this place, with its warmth and light, would break through the wall between us.
But here we are, standing apart once again.
I force a smile and nod, hiding the twinge of disappointment that settles in my chest. “Of course,” I say lightly, my voice betraying none of the ache inside. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Daed watches me for a second longer, his brow furrowing as if he’s searching for something in my face. But he says nothing. He simply nods, turning slightly toward the door. There’s something guarded in his posture, a distance that only adds to the tangled mess of uncertainty between us.
I turn back to the balcony, biting the inside of my cheek as I look out over the island. The sun is still warm on my skin, but it feels less comforting now, the peace of the moment slipping away. I can’t make sense of him. One minute, he’s protective, possessive but also tender, and the next, he’s pulling away, keeping me at arm’s length. Does he care for me at all? Or am I just the wife he was forced to take?
I sigh softly, folding my arms over the balcony railing as the wind tugs at my hair. This place is beautiful—almost perfect. But right now, it feels like even in paradise, Daed and I are standing on opposite shores, an ocean of uncertainty and unspoken words between us.
Daed lingers by the door, his eyes roaming over the bright room before finally settling on me. “So, wife,” he says, his tone casual but his gaze sharp, “Pariseth is at your disposal. What do you want to do first?”
When my stomach grumbles softly, it becomes clear what I need most. “Well,” I start, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, “I’m starving.”
Daed tilts his head, a faint smile forming on his lips. “That can be fixed. Though, here in Pariseth, we gather our own food. There are some stores, of course, but for fresh fruit and vegetables, you'll find them in the gardens. Though I imagine they are overgrown, we have not been here for a while. Meat,however.” He pauses, his smirk turning into something more deliberate. “We’ll have to hunt in the woods.”
I cross my arms and shake my head. “No.”
His brow lifts. “No?”
“I don’t want you hunting while we’re here,” I say firmly. “If there’s fresh fruit and vegetables, that’s enough. I won’t have us killing anything.”
Daed’s lips press into a thin line, clearly weighing my demand. “No flying. No shoes and now… no meat?”
For a moment, I half expect him to argue or mock me, as he so often does. But instead, he studies me, his eyes narrowing in thought. Finally, he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck before meeting my gaze again. “Very well,” he says, though there’s a trace of reluctance in his voice. “No hunting. We’ll make do with what the gardens provide.”
His agreement takes me slightly off guard, and I find myself staring at him, wondering why he’s so willing to give in. I nod slowly, though part of me is waiting for him to pull the rug out from under me.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he straightens and gestures toward the door. “Shall we head to the gardens, then? I imagine you’d like to see more of the island before we starve.”
There’s a trace of amusement in his voice, just enough to stir a smile from me as I step closer. “Yes,” I answer. Part of me wonders why things can’t always be this easy between us, while another, quieter part dares to imagine what might blossom if we had more time here in Pariseth without the weight of our worlds on our shoulders.
Chapter 20
At first, the garden feels like an impossible task. Tangled vines choke the life out of the space, wild weeds covering what was once a beautiful, orderly sanctuary. I stand still for a moment, overwhelmed by the sight of it. Where do I even start? The sunlight bakes the mess of plants and for a moment it feels like too much.
But then I drop to my knees and plunge my hands into the dirt. The cool, rich soil between my fingers instantly grounds me, bringing me back to The Grove—to the simplicity and purpose of working with the earth. The feel of it, the smell of it, tugs at memories of home, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest. I close my eyes for a second, allowing the connection to wash over me. I can do this. I’ve done it before.
Solena is already beside me, her hands deftly pulling herbs from their wild beds, moving with the precision of someone who does not shirk from hard work. Meanwhile, I tackle the job of ripping out the weeds and untangling the vines. It's peaceful at first, the soft rustle of leaves and birdsong in the air. But as thesun climbs higher, the work grows harder, and the heat begins to bear down on us.
It doesn't take long before Orios and Daed reluctantly join us. They stood back at first, clearly unsure of where to even begin, and it amuses me that these fearsome Mordorin warriors are afraid of some weeds and dirt. Orios grumbles as he pulls at a thick root, his movements slow and awkward, while Daed frowns in frustration, ripping at the overgrowth with all the grace of a warrior, not a gardener. Sweat drips down both of their faces as they struggle to keep up with the tasks.
Eventually, even they can’t stand the heat. With a grunt, Daed pulls off his shirt, tossing it aside. His chest gleams in the sunlight, muscles rippling as he bends to uproot a stubborn plant. Orios follows, not to be outdone, and soon both of them are working shirtless, dirt clinging to their skin as they toil under the midday sun. The sight of them—normally so poised and composed—now sweaty and dirt-streaked, makes me grin and for a moment Solena loses her focus as her eyes roam every inch of Orios’ torso. Their struggle with the menial labor is almost endearing.
By the time we’re done, the garden looks immaculate, transformed from a wild mess into a beautiful, orderly space. Rows of vegetables, herbs, and flowers, bloom under the sun, and there’s a deep satisfaction in seeing what we’ve accomplished together.
“Well, that was... an experience,” Daed says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, his usual smugness replaced by exhaustion.
“Didn’t expect to be a gardener today,” Orios mutters, leaning heavily on his shovel.
I laugh, shaking the dirt from my hands. “The garden wasn’t going to fix itself. But I think we did well.”
We gather the fresh vegetables—plump tomatoes, fragrant herbs, leafy greens—and with every step, I feel a contentment settle over me.
