“You’d think the Commander of the Ebon Flight would know how to handle a chicken ovum,” he mutters.
“It was honestly not the worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”
He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Really?”
“Really.” I’m lying, of course. It was dreadful. But there’s no point in ruining the day over a bad egg. I haven’t seen this sideof Daed—relaxed and unguarded—and I don’t want to scare it away.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, eager to change the subject.
He tips his head thoughtfully. “There’s a small forest beyond the clearing. A stream runs through it—crystal clear. You can see the rocks at the bottom.” He pauses, noticing I’m staring at him. “I thought you might like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” I reply, closing my eyes and turning my face toward the sun, savoring its warmth. “I can’t believe this place exists within the Untold Sea. If I were you, I would spend every day here.”
Daed glances at me from the corner of his eye. “It’s not a place I think of often. There’s always somewhere to be, something to take care of. There’s never enough time.”
“But don’t you live forever?” I laugh lightly, but his expression remains stern.
“A longer life simply gives you more things to regret,” he murmurs.
“Surely there must be some good?” I ask, refusing to believe that such a gift can be so miserable.
“It never lasts,” he replies, his voice low and heavy.
I lean forward to catch his gaze, which lingers on his boots. “Then you’re doing it wrong.”
He raises an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
“There’s far too much beauty in this world to dwell on pain. Pain will always be there; it’s a constant. That’s why we must find that one thing that turns the night into day. A reason to welcome the sunrise.”
“And what is your reason, Amara?” he asks, his tone earnest.
The answer flows from me effortlessly. “Love,” I say, and the very sound drains the color from his face.
“Love for my people. Love for the earth. Love for the breeze that knows my name and the taste of fresh honey on my tongue.”I turn my face to the sun, letting its warmth envelop me. “Love for the feeling of sunlight on my skin.”
Lost in my thoughts, I don’t realize Daed is staring at me, his lips parted. The hunger in his eyes sends a rush of warmth to my cheeks, and I nervously tuck my dark hair behind my ears, turning my gaze forward.
“Sorry. I…”
“No,” he says urgently. “Don’t apologize. Everyone should be fortunate enough to see the world through your eyes. To feel as deeply as you do.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think anyone wants that.”
“I do,” he says quickly, causing me to jerk my head to meet his gaze. “My world is hard, cruel, and cold, Amara. So cold it feels like my veins are flooded with ice water. But you—your smile, your laughter, and the way you stand tall even in the face of pure malice—make me feel something.” He tilts his head slightly toward the sky, his eyes half-closed against the glare of the sun as he exhales. “Warm.”
Oh, how I want to touch him. I want to reach out my hand and add the caress of my fingers to the sun on his skin, to have the chance to warm him, too. When he breathes in my ear and speaks of hunger and desire, it ignites every nerve in me, sending surges of warmth to my core. But when he’s like this—bare and honest—it awakens something deeper. My heart aches for him.
“That seems like something worth welcoming the sunrise for,” I say, my voice soft as I gaze at him.
He turns to look at me, the breeze playing with his dark hair, sunlight catching the steel gray of his eyes in a way that makes my heart race. In that moment, time feels like it’s suspended. “It is not the only thing.”
I don’t realize we’ve reached the edge of the forest until the shadows of the towering trees wrap around us like a protectiveembrace. Daed steps forward first, and when I hesitate, he turns, extending his hand toward me.
As I take his hand, our fingers intertwine and the world around me fades into the background. The air is rich with the scent of earth and wildflowers, while sunlight filters through the lush canopy, casting dancing patterns on the soft undergrowth. A sense of peace washes over me, dispelling the weight of my worries. I forget the ship, the Stormwyrm, the haunting shadows of Baev’kalath, and the demons of my past. I forget Modok, Frane, and all those who would rather see me dead than on the throne. In this moment, all that matters is Daed. He is the only memory I want.
Within the walls of the forest, the trees grow tall and strong, the sun filtering through the leaves to dapple soft light upon the undergrowth abundant with moss and wildflowers. It is smaller than The Grove, no room for the rope bridges that sway between the gargantuan trees or the small houses nestled within the branches, and even though no Souls dwell here, I still feel the pulsating energy of the forest beneath my feet. I hear the whispers on the wind and the small conversations of the creatures darting through the long grass or hiding inside weathered logs. After not hearing it for so long, it’s almost overwhelming and when I stop to catch my breath, Daed pauses with me.
“Are you alright, wife?” he asks.
