The room falls into an uncomfortable silence. I can’t look at him. My gaze stays fixed on the fire, each flicker of flame reflecting the frustration twisting inside me.
After a long pause, his voice breaks the quiet. “Have I done something to upset you?” His tone is softer now, unsure. “Or... do you really just want me to use the door?”
I exhale slowly, struggling against the pull of his playfulness, the pull of him. But I can’t let myself surrender to it. Not when it will only lead to more pain—the kind he promised me from the start.
“I don’t want you to go.” The words slip out bluntly, raw, without any disguise. There is nothing else to say, no point in disguising. We are plain before each other now. He has seen me, all of me, in the day and beneath the moon, at his side and in his bed. There is no more to hold back.
His hands find my shoulders again, but this time I don’t push him away. Instead, I hold on, curling my fingers around his rough skin, leaning into him as if this is the last time I’ll feel his touch. It’s ridiculous, I know—he’s only going to Mor’Thravar. But there’s a heaviness in the air between us, something inevitable that I can’t explain or understand.
“Wife,” he whispers, then softer, “Amara.”
He moves around to face me, and when the firelight catches the angles of his face, casting flickering shadows over his skin, I can barely bring myself to look at him. His beauty feels like something too far away to hold onto, too otherworldly to keep.Daed drops to his knees in front of me, his grip firm on the chair legs as he pulls me closer with a sharp scrape of wood. He slides one hand between my knees, parting them just enough for him to settle in between, his hands trailing up my thighs before gripping my waist.
My heart flutters under the weight of his gaze, the gray in his eyes deepening, locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my chest ache.
“I don’t go because I want to,” he says, voice low, rough around the edges. “I go because I must. If it were my choice, I would stay by your side always, and nothing—” his gaze darkens as his grip tightens on me, “—nothingcould drag me away from you.”
His words sink into me, each one sending a wave of warmth through my body. My heart swells, but I still feel the ache of what’s coming, of him leaving. I exhale a deep, weary breath. “I’m being selfish, aren’t I?”
He grins, a soft, crooked smile that makes my heart skip. “I don’t think you’re capable of such a thing. But if you are, then I’m flattered to be the cause of it.”
Despite everything, a smile tugs at my lips, softened by the way his hands grip me, how his touch is both tender and possessive. “How long will you be gone?”
“For a Fae, it’s less than a blink,” he teases, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Human years, on the other hand...”
I clench my jaw, narrowing my eyes. “Husband!”
He laughs, pulling me deeper into his arms, his warmth spreading over me as his embrace tightens around my waist. “Two days. Maybe three. As soon as I settle things, I’ll return to you. I swear it.”
I don't respond. I know he's telling the truth, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept. Daed watches me carefully, his brow furrowing, and then he tilts his head slightly, studying myexpression. “Perhaps you need something to keep you company. Something to be here while I cannot.”
I raise a curious eyebrow, trying to understand his intent. “What do you mean?”
Daed extends his hand, and I watch as spirals of smoke rise from his skin. The wisps are dark and ethereal, twisting and curling in hypnotic patterns. I can’t help but be mesmerized by the way it moves, its magic undeniable. Then, with a soft breath, Daed blows the smoke into the air. It floats, curling and shifting until it descends, pooling into a cloud at his feet. I stare, wide-eyed, as the smoke solidifies, taking on the form of a sleek charcoal kitten made entirely of swirling shadows.
The tiny creature meows, and I gasp at the sound—a soft, echoed cry—and watch in awe as it slinks toward Daed, brushing itself lazily against the heel of his boot.
“Is it real?” I ask, barely believing what I’m seeing, unable to tear my gaze from the kitten's every movement.
“As real as I am,” Daed replies, “but infinitely better.”
He bends down and scoops the kitten up, his fingers sinking into the smoky form as it drifts around his hand. The kitten has no distinct features, only its glowing white eyes stand out from its shadowy body, like stars in a sea of darkness. For a moment, I feel unsettled by it, despite the soft cries it makes and the way its little legs kick helplessly in the air.
“Don’t hold him like that,” I chide, reaching out instinctively. “He doesn’t like it.”
Daed raises an amused eyebrow. “Oh? My apologies… and what should we call him?”
I gingerly take the smoke kitten from his hands, half-expecting it to dissolve right through my fingers. But it doesn’t. There’s weight to it, a form that feels solid, yet at the same time, wisps of smoke drift lazily from its body. The sensation is strange—a tingling that lingers against my skin, but oddly comforting.Black as the ash in the hearth, the little creature nestles against me as if it’s always belonged there. I scratch under its chin with a knuckle, and its eyes flutter closed as it purrs—a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through its shadowy form.
“Ashen,” I say, the name slipping from my lips as if meant for him. “His name is Ashen.”
Daed rises to his feet with a groan, brushing off his knees. “Ashen it is. I leave you in his capable... paws.”
I laugh softly, glancing down at the kitten. It's impossible to imagine how this tiny wisp of smoke could protect me in Daed's absence. But as Daed mutters something under his breath in Fae tongue, a string of words I don’t understand, Ashen lets out a low growl—so deep it makes me pause. For a brief moment, the kitten’s form flickers, its features sharpening into something far more dangerous, more ancient. But the shift happens so quickly, it’s gone in the blink of an eye, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it at all.
I’m so lost in Ashen, his tiny paws kneading against my chest, his smoky form curling into my hair, that I don’t notice Daed watching me. His gaze lingers, intense and quiet, and when I meet his eyes, a flush creeps up my neck. The warmth of his attention should soothe me, but instead, it feels heavy, like he’s memorizing every detail before it all fades away. I smile, trying to ease the tension, but it only seems to deepen the sadness etched in his face.
He swallows hard, his voice soft but weighted. “I have to go.”
