Page 11 of Returned to the Vissigroth (The Vissigroths of Leander #6)

S he didn’t pull away. Her forehead rested against my shoulder, light as breath, but I felt it like a breaking wave.

Like a heartbeat I hadn’t heard in twenty rotations.

My arms held her loosely, barely enough to touch, but enough to keep her grounded against the weight of truth that could shatter her again.

I wanted to pull her closer. I wanted to hug her and never let go, but I wasn't sure she would allow that yet.

And I wasn't about to press my luck. If this was all she was willing to give right now, then that's what I was happy with.

Gods. I’d forgotten how small she was, how soft, how good it felt to hold her. Even like this, grief-ragged and with no memories, Daphne was still the strongest female I’d ever known. I hadn’t protected her, not the way I was supposed to. Not when it mattered most. And I was sorry for it. So sorry.

I cleared my throat. “You asked about Thalia.”

She didn’t speak. Just nodded against me. I closed my eyes and let the memory rise, let it cut. Told her about the happiest and most heartbreaking moment of my life. I didn't tell her that at first, for one brief moment, I’d thought Thalia was her, and how it had shattered me.

“You were right,” I said quietly. “The whole time. About the pregnancy. About her.”

I pulled back slightly, needing to see her face.

“You said she was a girl. That you knew . The midwives brought us a boy, and the healers told me you were delusional from blood loss, from the trauma. They called it hormonal collapse . Said it was common in humans. And gods forgive me, I believed them.”

My jaw clenched; if the midwife hadn't come to an untimely end already, I would have gladly killed her. I had never harmed a seffy in my life, but for her, I would have made an exception. And it would have felt good too.

“You cried every day. You tried to bond with him. With our son. You sang to him. Held him. But something inside you just… fractured.”

I looked down at our joined hands. Her fingers were still laced with mine; they were so fragile and warm.

“You told me over and over, That’s not my baby . And I told you to rest. To trust the healers. I thought… gods, I thought I was helping.”

The words soured in my throat.

“I told myself you’d heal. That your love would come in time. But instead, something died in you. Slowly. Quietly. Until one day, you stopped getting out of bed. You stopped eating. You stopped speaking .”

I felt her fingers twitch, like her body remembered it all before her mind could catch up.

“And then one morning, I woke up and you… didn't.” My voice broke then. I didn’t care. “You were gone.”

A long silence.

I forced myself to keep going.

“I buried you in the shrine at Grandyr’s Crown. I couldn’t look at anyone. Couldn’t lead. Couldn’t breathe in a world where you didn’t exist. I neglected our son, my duties, everything. I wanted to die too.”

I glanced at her, saw the sheen in her eyes. But she was quiet. Steady in a way that hurt.

“Somehow, I kept on breathing, even though it hurt.

I returned to my duties; I raised our son.

I reigned over Hoerst and longed for death and you.

" It hurt, but it also felt cathartic to tell her everything.

I thought every person in the Fourteen Planets knew how I felt, but I had never voiced them.

Not until now. Daphne had always been the only person in the universe I could talk to. Freely.

"I didn’t learn the truth until Thalia returned, nearly twenty rotations later.

She’d grown up on Leander, raised in a gods' forsaken pleasure house, where she was forced to," I saw the look of horror in Daphne's eyes and rushed to dispel her fears, "ney, not for that.

Thank the gods for that. But she was used as a servant.

She grew up as a girl with no power, no protection.

" And then I smiled, remembering the first meeting with Thalia.

She had been timid, zyn, but there had also been fire in her. "But she has your fire.”

“She has golden scales,” I whispered. “Grandyr’s mark. The first female vissigroth to ever bear them. The proof you were right.”

I swallowed hard, and for a moment, I forgot who Daphne was now, that she had no memory. "Do you remember Darryck?" slipped out, before I realized what I did. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed my hand, "It's alright."

It wasn't, but this was a moment of catharsis.

I had my Daphne back, and for the first time in twenty rotations, I could be open again.

“He was the Vissigroth of the Icelands' son.

He came to us when his father died. We loved that boy like our own," a chuckle escaped me, but it turned bitter.

We, I , I had loved Darryck more than Myccael.

It had always been there, and with a child's intuition, he had sensed it.

Darryck had worn the Kiss of the Dragon on his shoulder with rightful pride.

It wasn't Myccael's fault he didn't have the mark, but may the gods forgive me, I resented him for it, and I held him responsible for Daphne's death.

A child! I had been a fool. Myccael had begun to rebel, rightfully so.

He was starved for the attention of a father who couldn't give it to him, who always, when he looked at him, saw his dead mate.

I did all that, when the fault for Daphne's death had been mine all along.

Thankfully, Myccael and I had been working on restoring our relationship over the past couple of rotations. There was a lot to forgive, but we were both willing. I raised him, not as good as I should have, but I raised him as a son, and I still felt like he was my son. Now maybe more than ever.

"Darryck," Daphne prodded gently. I had spaced out for a moment, choked by my own guilt.

"Zyn, Darryck. The Vissigroth of the Icelands. He found Thalia. He recognized her, because… oh Daphne, she's your spitting image," I looked at my mate, sure that my eyes were shining.

"Wait until you meet her. She's a force to be reckoned with, and so beautiful and…

" I almost said she had three kids. Twin boys, both of them born with the Kiss of the Dragon, another thing unheard of.

Well, sometimes sons were born with a hint of the kiss, but never like these boys with identical markings.

It was perfect, Darryck had an heir for the Icelands, and I had an heir for Hoerst.

And then there was Zara, only a half rotation old and the light of my life.

Thalia and Darryck had wanted to name her Daphne.

At first, I had been touched, but then something inside me had protested the idea.

There was and there always would be only one Daphne.

I asked them to name her Zara instead, since she was going to be a warrior.

I was already putting a lot on Daphne; I didn't want to confuse her more.

"You love her," Daphne said, and for a moment I thought I had Zara's name out loud, but then I realized she meant Thalia, and a different love engulfed me. Thalia. My daughter. My pride and joy.

"Zyn. From the moment I laid eyes on her and knew deep down in my heart that she was our daughter."

Daphne's expression was still that of someone politely listening to the ramblings of an old man. To her, I was talking about strangers, but deep in my heart, I knew that as soon as she saw Thalia, she would know.

"So, I'm confused. What happened?" Daphne interrupted my wandering thoughts once again. Gods, I was getting old if I was drifting like this.

"Darryck mated our Thalia, at first to protect her, but then they fell in love with each other," I said pridefully.

Finally being able to call Darryck my son filled me with incredible satisfaction.

"We tried to keep her secret, but the susserayn found out nevertheless…

" I knew I was rambling now. I had no idea how to explain everything that had happened to Daphne.

Twenty rotations was a long time, even though most of the drama had played out during the last four.

"Anyway, long story short. We found out that our daughter had been switched at birth with a boy." I didn't want to get into all the Kennenryn drama just then; later would be soon enough to fill her in on what had happened behind the scenes.

"What happened to the boy?" Daphne surprised me. I would have thought she would ask me ten thousand questions about Thalia. Which showed once again, the prejudice I still held against Myccael. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair, and I really needed to work on myself for it.

Still, pride filled me when I said, "He's our susserayn now."

"What's his name?" Daphne asked, unaware of just how far Myccael had climbed. He’d gone from an unwanted child to a resentful teen, to a male who could never quite meet his father’s expectations. I’d seen the flaws, the defiance, the pride.

But Grandyr had seen something deeper. Something I had missed.

Beneath all the arrogance and entitlement of a spoiled heir, Myccael had a fire the gods recognized.

And so, Grandyr didn’t only mark him as a vissigroth…

He made him Susserayn.

King of all of us.

"His name is Myccael."

Daphne visibly recoiled. As if only now realizing he was the male she was seeking for whatever reason.

“I should have listened,” I said again. “To you. To everything you tried to tell me. You were never wrong.”

Her mouth opened. Then closed.

Then, at last, she whispered, “But I died anyway.”

The words hit me like a blade between the ribs.

“Zyn,” I said. “You did. But you came back.”

My voice cracked. “And this time… I won’t fail you.”