The ache in my chest tightens as I run my fingers through Ashen’s smoke-like fur for comfort. “I know.”
Reluctantly, I stand, letting Ashen slip down to the floor where he curls at my feet, a loyal shadow. My hands find Daed’s waist, steadying both him and myself as his palms cradle my face. When he kisses me, it’s tender but filled with a passion that threatens to undo me. In that kiss, we say all the words wecannot speak aloud, a silent plea for time to stop, for everything to stay as it is. But when we pull apart, the absence of his touch leaves me hollow, like a part of me has been left behind.
Later, as I join him in the courtyard, I’m greeted by the familiar weight of Baev’kalath. The moonlight is dim, hidden behind the ever-present clouds, casting the world in muted shades of gray. Daed stands there, dressed in his formal attire, the dark fabric gleaming under the rain that always seems to accompany this place. His hair falls messily over his brow, and though he tries to hide it, the tension in his body is palpable. His eyes lock onto mine, and I can see it—the burden of what’s to come, the heaviness of his departure. Behind him, Arax, Orios, and the other Reapers stand like shadows, ready to follow him into whatever fight awaits them.
Rain falls, the cold droplets soaking into my skin, and it only makes everything feel heavier. The warmth of Pariseth, the soft grass, and the peace we found there feels distant, almost like it never existed. Now, there’s only the rain, the darkness, and the overwhelming fear of what might happen while Daed is away. He senses my hesitation, my heart faltering under the weight of it all, and his hand tightens around mine.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs, his voice rough but filled with sincerity. He leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine, our breaths mingling and in that simple gesture, I feel everything. It’s a promise, a farewell, and an unspoken fear all wrapped into one.
I close my eyes, trying to memorize the feel of him, the warmth of his presence, but there’s a knot of dread twisting in my chest. I want to cling to him, to keep him here, but I know I can’t. There’s too much at stake.
“Amara,” Daed whispers, pulling back just enough to look at me.
There’s something in his eyes, something raw and vulnerable, like he’s fighting to say something important, something that could change everything. But I can’t let him say it. I can’t hear those words… not now. If he says what I think he’s about to, I’ll never be able to let him go.
“You should go,” I say, the words escaping harsher than planned. I take a step back, putting distance between us because I need to keep the emotions from swallowing me whole.
His jaw tightens, and I see the flash of hurt that crosses his face, but he doesn’t argue. He takes a breath, letting his hand drop from my cheek. Daed has always known when to give me space, but tonight, I can feel the strain in his restraint, the way it tears at him just as much as it does me.
“It’s time,” King Kaelus calls from the edge of the courtyard, his voice cutting through the tension. The Reapers are already preparing to take flight, their forms dark and foreboding in the shadows of Baev’kalath.
Lanneth steps forward, her grip firm as she pulls me close, her presence as cold and oppressive as ever. I don’t move, my eyes still locked on Daed, who staggers backward, hesitant. With a sharp nod, he turns, his wings unfurling from his back in one swift motion. The powerful gust of air from his wings sends a shiver through me, but I remain still, rooted to the spot as I watch him join his father. Together, they take to the skies, disappearing into the inky darkness. The familiar ache settles deep in my chest, an ache that only grows the farther he flies from me.
“Do not fear, daughter,” Lanneth murmurs, her voice like a snake’s hiss as she leans in, her cold breath curling around my ear. “At last, you and I will be able to spend some much-needed time together.”
Her words coil around me, suffocating, but even her presence can’t stifle the sharp pang of regret that slices through me.
I should have said it.I should have told him.
The words linger on the tip of my tongue, words that feel too dangerous to say out loud but are too heavy to ignore. I wish I had screamed them into the night, sent them chasing after him.
My eyes burn, tears welling up behind them, not from the rain or the cold, but from the fear that I may never get the chance to speak them to his face. The fear that I may never hear him say them back.
Chapter 25
The first night was terrible.
In Pariseth, I’d slept so peacefully in Daed’s arms, waking only when the sun warmed my face. But here, in Baev’kalath, the weight of the place presses down on me, reminding me why it drains me so completely. When I wake the next morning, I’ve barely slept at all. My head pounds, exhaustion sinking into my bones. A glance in the mirror reveals the truth—the healthy color Pariseth had restored is already fading, my skin paling in this cursed fortress. I hate this place. All it does is take.
Breakfast with Lanneth is no better. Her questions are always sharp, prying. She insists I eat the meat, pushing the platter toward me as though her will alone might make me give in. I refuse again, and her smile tightens with disappointment. I excuse myself as politely as I can and spend the rest of the day avoiding her, wandering aimlessly through the cold halls, staring out at the sky as it shifts from dull gray to black.
It is unnervingly quiet here without Daed, the king, or the Reapers, and the absence of Arax’s shadow following me feels disorienting. How strange it is that what was once an annoyancenow leaves a hollow ache; I can’t help but wish to glance over my shoulder and see that familiar frown I’ve grown so accustomed to.
I find my way to the throne room, leaning against the heavy wooden door. It groans open, revealing the vast, empty space beyond, where each step I take echoes like distant thunder.
I ascend the dais, my fingers grazing the cold stone of Daed’s throne, wishing it were his warm skin beneath my touch. I wander to the stained glass window, where the waning moon rises like an ominous herald, casting slants of ivory light through the intricate designs. Prisms of colored light dance across the floor, illuminating the shadows with fleeting beauty.
In that moment, I imagine Daed as the warrior immortalized in stained glass, his powerful wings unfurled, his imposing form towering over me. Pressing down on me. Touching me. My skin goose-pimples and a welcome heat throbs between my legs. I close my eyes, letting my mind drift deeper into the desire that coils within me.
“It’s the Reflective Eye,” Solena says, startling me as she appears at my side. I jump, and she laughs, the sound light and warm. In my solitude, it’s comforting to know I have her at least.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she adds, her eyes twinkling.
“No. I’m glad you’re here,” I say, releasing a long breath. “I could use the distraction. So, the Reflective Eye. Tell me more.”
Solena shifts, drawing closer. “It’s a time for storytelling,” she explains. “A time to share knowledge, to speak of the past. After the indulgence of the Lover’s Eye, the Reflective Eye is a reminder of our history, of lessons learned.”
Heat creeps up my neck as memories of Daed’s hands on my bare skin flash through my mind, and I pray Solena doesn’t notice my blush.
