Orios bares his own teeth, his lip curling just enough to reveal the sharp tips of his fangs. Arms folding, he leans forward, voice quiet but unmistakably clear.
“Solena is mine. Bitten or not and I will not hesitate to cut through anyone who comes between us.”
“I have appreciated your service,” I say. “So I will forgive your puny threats and insolent fucking tone. But if this is you telling me to stay away fromyourfemale, you are wasting your breath. I have no interest in Solena.”
He straightens, shoulders broadening.
“We may be far from Baev’kalath, but never forget who you are talking to. Understand me?”
Orios’ jaw tightens, his breath heaving in his chest. “Yes,Your Highness,” he says, voice smooth but taut. “I understand.”
Then he leans in, his words a low rasp against my ear.
“But if you dare stare at her too long, if your hands wander too close, Iwillkill you.”
He straightens, brushes past me, shoving my shoulder in a way that’s nothing short of deliberate.
I grin as he reaches the door, a quiet chuckle slipping free. “For someone so concerned about who touches Solena, maybe you should’ve thought twice before takingmy sisteras a bedmate.”
His hand stills on the door, fingers curling against the wood. Then, slowly, he glances back over his shoulder. “Worry less about who shares my bed and more about finding your own female.”
The words hit their mark like a hammer. He doesn’t wait for a reply. The door slams behind him, rattling on its hinges, the final punctuation to his parting shot.
I exhale through clenched teeth, fury tight in my chest. Sliding off the table, I curl my fingers into a fist and drive it down. Once, twice, again and again until the wood gives, splintering beneath my knuckles. Pain blooms through my hand, grounding me, but it is nothing compared to the war raging inside me.
Because he’s right.
I have been lost, adrift in the chaos, tangled in distractions, drowning in the ghosts of my past and the weight of what hunts me. I have strayed too far from my path, too consumed by my own torment to see the truth. I must find my way back. Back to her.
I brace myself against the table, fingers pressed into the blood-slick wood, scattered with splinters and spilled ink. My head bows beneath the weight of it all as I struggle to steady my breath, to find calm.
In the hush that follows, I swear I hear her voice.
Good. I need to remember why I’m doing this. What I’ve lost.
At first, I tell myself it’s a dream. A longing twisted into sound. But then I hear her again, closer this time. So close, it’s as if she’s at my ear, calling my name.
My shoulders go rigid. My head whips around, searching the shadows.
What is this? Why does she should so close? Why does she sound afraid?
My breath snags, the truth clawing up my throat.
This isn’t memory. This isn’t madness.
It’s her.
“Amara!” I cry, my voice breaking as it rips free. “I hear you!”
She calls again. But from where?
I shove aside the table and lunge for the door, throwing it open as I bolt above deck. Sunlight slams into my eyes, and I lift a hand against the glare.
“Amara!” I shout, scanning the horizon, my heart a frantic drum in my ribs.
Zyphoro straightens from where she leans against the railing, her gaze tracking me. “Daedalus. What is it?”
“I can hear her!” The words claw out of me, desperate. I pace across the deck, searching. “She’s here!”
