“No,” I say, my voice low but steady. “I’ll handle it.”
Reon leaves the door open, and I follow. I look back once, unable to help myself. I seal them in with a soft click of the door, as if the whole world might shatter if I close it too loudly.
Above deck, the storm has passed. The same storm my daughter’s birth summoned, scattered to the edges of the horizon. Dusk is near. The wind carries a sharper chill, and the sky burns gold and crimson as the sun sinks into the sea.
Reon and Orios stand on either side of the Golden Son, holding him fast. His arms are locked between their grips, but he does not resist. He stares at me with a slight tilt of the head, one brow raised, the one unmarred by scars, as if baffled to find himself still breathing.
He should be. I never meant for him to escape the void. I wanted to leave him there, suspended in nothingness, tossed around by the demons that feast on lost souls, his spirit torn from his body, dragged into the dark where it would be ripped apart again and again for all eternity.
But no. He had to have been touching Amara when I pulled her free. A stowaway when I void walked. My anger stirs again. The thought of his filthy hands on her, even in the smallest way, is enough to send me spiraling. Then I remember the scrying mirror, and the image it showed me. Amara in his arms.
My hand moves before I can even understand the urge. A punch. A brutal, vicious strike to his jaw. The sound of flesh meeting bone, followed by the sickening spray of blood that bursts from his mouth and splatters across Reon’s boot.
“Brilliant,” Reon sighs irritably, shaking off what he can.
But the Golden Son doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t crumple. Instead, his eyes lock with mine, and that, more than anything, sets my blood alight. There’s something in his gaze, something defiant, something that dares me to do worse.
I take a step forward, my heart thundering in my chest as if it too wants to crush him. But not yet.
“Tell me everything,” I demand.
He doesn’t answer. Not at first. He just watches me, blood dripping from his swollen lip, eyes burning with something darker than hatred. It claws at me, gnawing at the edges of my sanity. Without another thought, I swing my fist into his jaw, the sickening crack of bone echoing in the silence between us. His head jerks to the side, but there’s no grunt of pain, just another defiant spit of blood onto the deck.
“What did they do to her?” I take a step closer. My hands tremble, but not with fear. My fists are clenched, my breath coming harder with each word. “Whatdid youdo to her?”
“I did nothing,” he sneers, his voice dripping with bitterness. “I tried to help her escape.”
A mocking laugh escapes me before I can hold it in. “I don’t believe a fucking word you say.”
His jaw clenches. “Then why bother asking me? I’m telling you the truth. I wanted to help her.”
“And you deserve my thanks for that?” My voice cracks with fury, and without thinking, I strike again. My fist slams into his face, and he reels back, this time with a grunt. The satisfaction of the punch lingers, but it does nothing to still the ache inside me. “You were the one whostoleher from me. You sided with those Ithranor traitors.Youare the reason I lost her.”
His swollen lips twist into a grimace as he spits more blood, but his gaze remains unflinching. The spiteful glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. “You lost her all by yourself,” he sneers, voice thick with scorn. “You lost her when you married her, when you dragged her away from her own people. You made her leave everything she loved. You doomed her the moment you bound her to you.Youdestroyed her. How could you not see it? How could you, knowing what she was? How could you not see how the Fae would covet her, despise her, all at once?”
The words land like a dagger, sinking deep into the hollow pit of my chest. The accusation rings true, and I feel the weight of it crushing me. Reon and Orios, standing by, their silent questions heavy on me, their eyes too sharp. The quiet judgment presses against me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I murmur, barely more than a growl, but the words taste bitter in my mouth. How can I defend myself against this, against him? Against the truth I cannot hide?
His laugh is soft, low, almost pitying. “Maybe I don’t understand everything,” he says. “But Anethesis, that bastard, loved the sound of his own voice. He told me what she is. What she’s capable of. You married anAwakened. You put a child inside her.” His eyes turn hard, cruel. “Did you really think you could have it all? You’re just another Faeparasite, aren’t you? Selfish, pathetic. You don’t care what you destroy, as long as you have power over it.”
Each word cuts through me, leaving a jagged wound, and though I want to fight it, deny it, I know in the deepest part of me that he is right. I wanted it all. Amara, our life, our daughter. And now, I see the cost. The price of it all. My fists tighten, nails biting into my palms, but I can't move, can't stop the storm of guilt and rage building inside me.
For the first time, I wonder if he’s right. If I’ve destroyed everything I touched.
“Leave him, Daed.”
Amara’s voice cuts through the fury pulsing in my veins, and I turn to find her leaning against the doorframe. She is pale but standing, strong despite the exhaustion that must weigh on her limbs. My heart stammers, torn between relief and concern, and in an instant, I’m at her side.
“My love,” I murmur, bracing her with my hands, steadying her before she can sway. “You need to rest.”
She scowls, pushing me away with a stubborn frown that is so wholly her it makes my chest ache.
“I’ve had a baby, not lost a leg,” she grumbles, and it takes every ounce of my restraint not to kiss the irritation right off her lips.
But there is no time for indulgence, no time for the way my body sings with the need to hold her, have her, keep her.
Her gaze flickers past me, landing on the bloodied, battered form of the Golden Son.
