“I’ve been moving since I learned how to walk, Charon,” I answered. It was probably disrespectful, and I mentally chastised myself for my knee-jerk response.
Charon stepped fully into the amber light of the workshop. The dry heat of the forge vanished, sucked away by a sudden, cloyinghumidity. “Then you aren’t fast enough. The Keres stands upon the docks. He has returned for what he claimed. Do not test the patience of a predator, even one who has learned to wait.”
I stood and picked up my fading asphodel crown. As I wove the flowers back into my hair, I felt small, like a child caught playing in a graveyard. “I suppose it was foolish to think the world would stop just because I wanted it to.”
Charon jerked his pole toward the door, a command that brooked no argument. “The Acheron’s currents wait for no one. Go.”
Leaving the workshop felt easier than it should have been. I went, but not because of Charon’s order. It was my own heart urging me along. Because I knew the man waiting for me outside wasn’t a predator. He was my future.
I hadn’t been in Asphodelia long, but the dim corridors of Charon’s home were easy to navigate. And then, I was outside, stepping back onto the docks. The mist hit me first, a wall of damp vapor that tasted of ancient stone. The gray haze parted, and I saw him.
Phonos stood at the end of the pier, a silhouette cut from the darkest part of the night. The black feathers of his wings rippled and shifted in a hypnotic rhythm. Every fiber of his being radiated a coiled energy that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. He stared past the city, his focus locked entirely on me.
He looked at the crown of dormant petals perched on my head. “The white of the asphodels suits you, Daphne.”
I reached up, my fingers brushing the flower petals. “They’ve lost their glow. It’s sentimental of me to keep them.”
“You can keep them as long as you wish.” He took a step closer, the movement fluid and silent. “They are beautiful because you wear them. But they would suit you better if they were fresh.”
He held out his hand. A clutch of new asphodels glowed in his palm, their light pulsing with a soft, steady rhythm. “May I?”
Phonos paused, waiting for permission I wasn’t sure I knew how to give. My hermit’s instinct screamed at me to run, to hide, to burrow back into the safety of isolation.
I’d spent three years ensuring nothing could reach me. I was still tired, still unsure of my place in this strange city. But the itch in my palms returned, silencing my wariness. He didn’t look at me like I was broken. He looked at me like I was the only solid thing in the mist.
If I had left Charon’s workshop, it wasn’t because of his disapproval. It was because of this man. Because of Phonos of House Keres.
I stepped into his space, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. “You may. Please.”
Moving with deliberate slowness, he reached out, his talons brushing against my temple. They were sharp enough to shred armor, but when they touched me, it was with agonizing gentleness.
First, Phonos removed my old flower crown. It was a little strange. I’d grown more accustomed to it than I’d realized. He discarded the old asphodels on the pier, then began to weave the fresh blooms into my hair.
The weight of his hand settled onto my scalp. I closed my eyes, leaning into the sensation. It anchored me. For so long, touch had been a threat, a prelude to violence or a demand for a prophecy. This was neither. It was just... presence. A warm, living tether in a world of mist and ghosts.
“There.” He murmured the word like a secret, his breath stirring the hair near my ear. “Perfect.”
The word twisted in my chest.Perfect.I was a woman who had traded her soul to escape a nightmare. I was still putting the shattered pieces of my sanity back together. There was nothing perfect about me. But looking at the quiet intensity in his eyes, I realized with a jolt that he wasn’t lying. He believed it.
He pulled away, and the loss of his touch left an aching chill behind. His wings spread slightly, a sudden expanse of midnight feathers that swallowed the space between us. “I would like to show you the city,” he said, turning his gaze toward the distant skyline. “If we fly, you might get a better understanding of our home.”
Fly.
The word hit me almost as hard as the poison of the Blighted Lands.
The damp stone of the pier dissolved beneath my feet. In a single, violent heartbeat, I wasn’t in Asphodelia anymore.
I had flown in that blasted vision that had torn my mind apart. I’d been a helpless thing suspended in the roaring dark. The golden thread had hauled me backward through the sky like I was nothing but meat on a line. A puppet dancing for a mad god.
My stomach dropped, turning over with a sickening heave of pure vertigo. I stumbled back, my heel catching on the uneven stone of the pier. “No,” I choked out. “I… I can’t.”
Phonos was there instantly. The heat of his hand clamped onto my elbow, a searing anchor in the spinning world. “Daphne?”
I sagged against his grip, my legs refusing to hold my weight as the bile rose sharp and acidic in my throat. “Not the air. Please.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself against the inevitable recoil. I knew what came next. After all, the people of Dodona hadn’t always been kind to the child who knew too much.
The rejection didn’t come. Instead, I heard the heavy, rustling snap of leather and feathers. Silence. Warmth.
