4

Daxeel storms through the corridors of the garrison.

The harshness of his mood has his face set to stone. A half-hour he waited in the parlour of the harem, only to learn from the madam that all his appointments had vanished from the roster, and Willow was booked out.

Daxeel didn't spare a second on wondering how that happened.

Her.

That vicious one is getting in the way. Before he could even ask anything about it, the madam made it clear that nothing can be done, though since she's dokkalf, he doesn't quite trust that she spoke the truth.

Now, it's late into the First Wind already, too close to the Quiet—and so he needs to find his meddlesome sister and get her back to Hemlock House in Kithe.

Since she wasn't in the Hall, he climbed the stone steps to the tower. Only Rune and Samick were up there. Now, the three of them head to the library, the only other place he can think she'll be.

But as he steers into the corridor with too many plants from Licht, he falters. His breath loosens with a shudder.

Slowly, he turns to look at the crystal vase against the wall.

Daffodils.

An ache blooms in his chest, but stronger is the surge of ice-cold fury.

His hand reaches out for the daffodils.

Behind him, Samick is silent and still. He watches closely. Rune leans against the wall, arms folded, and a knowing glint in his severe eyes.

Neither speak a word, not about Daxeel's pause or even that this is the first of the daffodils that they have seen in this corridor.

And Daxeel's mind is thrown back to that night in lessons when she handed him one of those buttery flowers she plucked from the hill.

In the shadows of the corridor, he pinches the green stems in his fingers.

They wither in his touch. They die. Like he did.

He stalks off, Samick at his heels.

Rune gives the wilted flowers a moment's look, then he plucks the single parchment piece sticking out from under the vase, before he's following them through the corridor.

He unfolds the parchment.

‘My room. Break of the Quiet.'

Rune's long, strong legs move quicker. He comes up to Daxeel's side. Despite the glacier feel of his energy, Rune hands him the parchment.

Daxeel just runs it over with an icy look, then crumples it in his fist.

They keep their brisk pace. It's only when they reach the library that Daxeel shares a look with Rune, a silent one, and the blond fae nods once.

Daxeel draws back for the darkness of the corridor.

And then he's gone.

The others will walk home to Kithe without Daxeel this Quiet.

the night she gave me a daffodil

TEN YEARS EARLIER

Sprawled out in the grass, Nari keeps to the shade with him. But she falls onto her back and looks up at him—then hands him the yellow flower.

Her eyes are cautious. Expects him to wilt it in his hand, kill it with his darkness alone. Other dark males would. They would be offended by the flower. The one that belongs to the sun.

But Daxeel watches it shine yellow in his palm despite the night, and then he looks at her.

"It's my name. Narcissa. It means daffodil." She acts coy. A small smile and caution and hope in her gaze.

She isn't coy. It's a farce.

He sees right through it.

Almost has him smiling. But he plays along with her little scheme.

He likes her schemes.

She wants him to be reminded of her in every part of this land. See her in these flowers that grow wild in fields, in the vases of the High Court and at these lessons beneath the trees where these wild flowers grow like weeds.

Manipulating him.

Vicious female.

He understands, she is his evate, his mate. Those feelings that stirred in the first moments of evate, they haven't faded away. Each night and day, they only grow stronger.

So when he finally mates with her in the trap he's orchestrated for her some nights from now—a trap made of pretty and shiny baubles he knows she can't resist—she will become his entirely.

The claim will be made, the bond forged.

Nari is not vicious female.

She is his vicious one.