Текст книги "Between Tides & Thunder"

Автор книги: Lena Kazak

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

HIS SKIN IS SCORCHING beneath my fingers as I trace gentle lines into his chest. Beneath my palm, his heart pounds in a strong, frenzied drumbeat. My fingers inch lower, over the defined ridges of his abdomen, nails raking through the thin trail of hair beckoning toward the waistband of his sleep trousers—

Long, graceful fingers curl around my wrist. Zev brings my hand to his face, pressing my palm against his stubbled jaw. “It’s all right,” he murmurs, longing threaded through every word. “You don’t have to.”

Tides, this man.

“Please,” I breathe, sliding my free hand over his heart. My lips find the corner of his mouth in a sweet, chaste kiss.

He doesn’t seemed convinced, but he also doesn’t stop me when I free my captive hand and trail it over his abdomen. Molten gray eyes watch my every move, but I don’t like the wariness in them.

The hesitation. The fear.

I’ve denied him for so long, he’s afraid.

Afraid to lose me. Afraid to push me too far.

His hands are clenched into tight fists, forearms corded with prominent veins—he wants to touch me, claim me, but he’s holding himself back.

Something primal flashes through his eyes, a desperate possessiveness, almost feral in its intensity.

He wants to keep me.

And I think I want him to.

But if he wants me aching, then I want him unrestrained.

I press a kiss over his heart.

I inch lower.

Another kiss on his abdomen.

Lower.

My fingers curl in the waistband of his sleep trousers, pressing a dainty kiss on the hard muscle below his navel.

He’s rigid beneath me, body shaking with restraint.

“Please, baby,” I croon softly, looking up at him through my lashes.

He blinks, and it breaks whatever spell he was under.

And then he’s on me.

Rough hands haul me up and toss me onto my back like I weigh nothing. A loud rip echoes through the room as he tears my nightgown in half. For several heartbeats, he just drinks me in, his eyes roving over my bared skin like he’s etching this moment into his mind. His pants are shucked off quickly, and then there’s nothing left between us.

My breath escapes in hot gasps, and he kisses me with a fevered desperation that steals the air from my lungs.

“Mine,” he whispers against my lips. “Lightning strike me, Mayah, you’re mine.” His lips capture mine again, and he ravishes my mouth as if I’m the only thing that will quench his thirst. He pulls back with a strangled groan, stormy gray eyes frenzied and wild. They pin me in place.

“Tell me you want this.” A desperate plea.

I nod frantically, hands clawing at his shoulders, trying to pull him back down. He looses a rough sound that sends heat coiling between my thighs. He gathers my wrists in his large hand and presses them above my head. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“I want this, Zev. Please.” I’m too far gone to care about pride, about politics, about anything else but him. “I want you.”

He stares at me, lips parted, chest heaving.

And then he’s kissing me again. I’d happily drown in his lips forever. He doesn’t pull away, keeps our mouths melded together as he notches himself against my entrance.

I tense, anticipation locking my muscles.

Zev pulls back, just a hair’s breadth, nudging my nose with his. “Breathe for me, baby.”

I obey, sucking in a deep breath. He braces himself on his forearms, hips inching forward—

A sharp knock sounds out on our bedroom door.

We both freeze.

“If we’re quiet, maybe they’ll leave,” I whisper, running my hands down his back.

“If they don’t, I’ll kill them,” Zev growls, nipping at my lower lip.

Rap. Rap. Rap.

“Your Majesty? Uh, Prince Zevayr, your father—”

“If you value your life, you will leave,” Zev snaps loudly, head swiveling toward the door. Our room darkens as storm clouds gather outside.

A beat.

“Sire, please, King Varad—”

“Leave. Now!” Zev roars, and a crack of thunder roars along with him.

I yelp at the sudden sound, and my husband whips around, running a gentle hand up my side, pressing a chaste kiss to my parted lips. “Sorry, baby.” His apologetic smile is open, boyish.

Muffled voices seep in through the door, then a different voice says, “Apologies, sire. The matter is urgent. Otherwise, we would never … impose.”

Zev growls, scrubbing a rough hand over his face. “Lightning damn them to the Skies and back,” he mutters. He leans closer, one large hand splayed possessively between my breasts. “Stay. Right. Here.” A kiss for every word. “I’ll be right back. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, disappointment blooming in my chest.

I watch unashamedly as he quickly dresses and walks to the door.

“Aren’t you going to wash your face at least?” I call after him, clutching the sheets to my bare chest.

His mouth curls into a wicked grin. He licks his lips. “No. I don’t think I will.”

I wait for nearly forty minutes before I can no longer ignore my body’s needs. Stretching out my languid limbs, I pad to the washroom to relieve myself.

Now that the haze of lust has dissipated, conflicting feelings churn in my gut—mostly guilt and frustration.

My eyes catch sight of my face in the large mirror above the sink—my cheeks are flushed, hair a tangled mess of dark waves. My blue eyes are bright. Electric. Swollen, rosy lips from Zev’s kisses. I press my fingers over them as if I might brand the memory into my skin.

I don’t regret what we did. Not at all. And if we hadn’t been interrupted, then we’d have—

With a deep sigh, I fill the tub with steaming water and a generous handful of bath salts before lowering myself in. Water laps at my skin in gentle ripples, soothing any lingering aches in my legs and back.

I soak for nearly fifteen minutes before the door opens in our chambers, followed by the familiar thud of Zev’s boots. His footsteps grow louder, and then the bathroom door swings open.

Stormy gray eyes ensnare me where I’m shoulder-deep in bubbles. There’s a petulant twist to his mouth, and my lips curve into a smile.

Then I take in the rest of him. He’s dressed for battle—dark leather pants, metal shield strapped to his chest, bracers covering his forearms. My brows knit together, and Zev sighs. His footsteps are measured as he stalks closer, kneeling on the tile behind me.

“My wife was not where I left her,” he murmurs, brushing my hair away from my neck. His lips are gentle as he presses a lingering kiss against my pulse.

“Your wife grew impatient.” A beat. “Where are you going?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he skims his nose along the column of my neck, inhaling deeply as if wanting to commit my scent to memory. A muscled arm comes to rest over my chest, the bathwater soaking his sleeve.

“The border. We suspect the Rebellion will launch another attack.”

My stomach plummets.

“When do you leave?”

“An hour ago,” he says grimly.

My breath catches, dread freezing my blood. “Zev—”

“I’ll be all right.” He cups my face gently, but tension roughens his voice. “I need to know that you’ll be.”

“I will,” I reassure softly. “How long will you be gone?”

“It’s hard to say. A week? Maybe more.” His stubbled chin rests on my shoulder, head propped against mine. “But I won't miss the Equinox Festival. Not when my wife has been tirelessly planning it.”

My eyes flutter closed, reclining against him.

I want to savor this moment.

“If they breach the Arbinji defenses, we won’t be safe here either,” he adds quietly.

My eyes snap open. “You think they’ll come for the palace?”

“If I were leading them,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple, “I would.” With two fingers he scoops some of the suds, massaging the white foam into my collarbones. “I convinced my brother to come,” he adds. “We’ll keep him out of danger, but I said it would raise morale for the soldiers to see him.” What he really means is he doesn’t want his brother anywhere near me while he’s away. “My father will remain here, though. Try to avoid him.”

I nod. Thank the Tides that Faramir will be gone. I shudder just thinking of his cold eyes and slimy taunts.

Zev brushes a kiss to my temple. “When I return, let’s visit Tundrayn,” he murmurs in my ear.

Surprise flickers in my chest. “Really?”

I don’t know what to think.

“Yeah. I know you miss your father. And it’ll be nice to escape the palace for a while.”

“What about the Rebellion? Your father and brother?”

He shrugs. “They’ll figure it out. Or they won’t. If it becomes too pressing, I’ll head to the border from Tundrayn. But at least I’ll know you’ll be safe in your home.”

My heart swells with warmth. “I’d like that,” I say softly. I bring a wet hand out from the water to tangle in his hair, nuzzling the side of his face. “But aren’t you worried? You wouldn’t stay in the palace for more than an hour last time.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” he chuckles. “And I’m hoping your father and people will warm up to me once they see their princess is safe and well cared for.” He swallows. “And happy. That I make her happy.”

The silence between us thrums with a question.

The water laps at my skin as I twist in his arms, kneeling in the tub to face him. His beautiful gray eyes are so open, so vulnerable. I grab him by the collar and kiss him like I can burn the memory of it into his bones.

It’s the only way I can express my answer.

When we part for air, foreheads pressed together, I fear my heart might burst from the strong, all-consuming emotion coursing through it. I’m hesitant to give it a name.

“Tides protect you, Zev,” I whisper against his lips. “I’ll miss you.”

His steel gray eyes search mine, but I don’t know for what. His throat bobs as he swallows, his breath escaping in a shuddering exhale. One more deep, aching kiss is all he allows himself—one last taste of me—before leaving. He doesn’t say goodbye.

I stare at the closed door, a strange mix of emotions roiling in my chest like the angry, open sea. Zev barreled into my life mere months ago, and yet my soul burns for him, as if it forgot how to exist on its own.

There’s a cutting sense of loss, a bone-deep sadness—I want him by my side. There’s also fear and worry. He’s heading to the border, rife with danger, where anything could happen. I want him safe.

But beneath the uncertainty and longing and anxiety, there’s a whisper of freedom.

I’m alone.

For the first time in months, I’m truly alone.

I lose track of how long I float in the bath, waiting patiently, just in case Zev returns to steal another kiss. He left his scent on my skin and his promise in my chest. But his absence leaves space for something else to return—me.

The water turns lukewarm, then colder still, until goosebumps erupt across the surface of my pale skin.

When I can’t bear to wait any longer, I slowly sit up in the tub.

I raise my hand—

–and the water responds.

It rises out of the tub in thin streams, merging and diverging above my head in swirling patterns. Another swish of my hand, and the water melds together before flattening into a thin sheet. With a pinch of my fingers, the droplets separate again and freeze into sharp, serrated icicles.

A slow grin stretches across my lips.

Tides, I’ve missed waterwielding.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

POSSESSING TWO WIELDING CAPABILITIES is rare. Which is why when my waterwielding emerged as a teenager, Father kept it a closely guarded secret—not a soul alive knows save me, Father, and Daak. I had already been training as a healer for a few years by then, so when Father assigned Daak as my “combat” instructor, no one at the palace suspected anything else.

That Father was honing a weapon.

Healing has always come easier to me than waterwielding, but under Daak’s guidance, I’ve grown into a formidable wielder.

It was difficult keeping my ability hidden these past few months. It felt unnatural ignoring the water’s familiar call. The last time I wielded was in the Tundrayni forest, when I split that tree down the middle. It was an unbelievably stupid risk, but I couldn’t stand to let the Dark Commander manhandle me without suffering any consequences.

The Dark Commander. My lips turn down in a scowl. The frightening moniker doesn’t suit Zev at all.

Zev, with so much tenderness in his eyes.

Zev, who also lost his mother and friend.

Zev, who has shown me more kindness than I ever expected.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and blink away my traitorous tears.

Zev is miles away, and now I can finally find those tidescursed tunnels. He hadn’t been receptive to me sleeping in another bedroom, and with my every move under careful scrutiny, it’s been impossible to explore.

So far, the only hidden entrance I’ve found is in Zev’s—our—chambers. There are likely entrances in every set of royal quarters to make it easy to flee if the palace were ever under attack.

The tunnels may have served Arbinj well in the past.

But they won’t now.

After my shift in the infirmary, I return to our chambers. It’s just past sunset when I change into comfortable leggings and a tunic. Standing before the wall, I run my hands over the raised ledge I had discovered within days of marrying Zev—I knew what I was looking for, though.

A hard push, all my weight thrown behind it.

A soft click.

A portion of the wall sinks in, leaving just enough space for me to wedge through. I shift the hidden door back into place, though I doubt anyone will enter our chambers.

Zev will never forgive me.

I bat away the intrusive thought and press forward.

I came here with a mission.

I mean to fulfill it.

Behind the wall is a narrow, dark tunnel. I find a torch beside my feet and quickly light it. The air is thick with mildew and something older. The walls are crumbling stone. For a brief second, the image of them collapsing in a heap on me enters my mind.

That won’t happen. The tunnels have stood for centuries.

I close my eyes and cast out my senses.

The faint whisper of water beckons to me—I’ve ignored it for months, but it’s always been there, lingering just beneath the surface.

I follow its call.

My knuckles are white around the torch, eyes scanning every dark corner. There could be other entry points that lead into this very tunnel. Every faint sound has me jumping, ready to attack. My footsteps echo back to me, too loud, too alive.

But I remain alone.

I walk for another twenty minutes before the tunnel widens into a larger cavern. The walls are slick, glinting in the torchlight, with three arched openings carved into the stone. I close my eyes again, searching for water.

The entrance on the far right.

I disappear into darkness, but not for long. The tunnel widens again into another cavern—this one larger, more purposeful. Unlit torches line the walls, where precariously tall stacks of crates lean against the stone. Another tunnel opens immediately to my left—this one with a stream of water flowing through a shallow valley carved at the bottom. The indentation flows through the center of the room, disappearing into another tunnel on the opposite side.

I bite my lip, scanning the chambers.

How do I know this is the right one?

Find water. The tunnel will lead outside. Father’s voice echoes in my mind.

My eyes find the shallow stream. I send a large ripple through the water and watch as it grows smaller as it disappears into the darkness.

Five minutes later, I do it again.

Then, again.

And again.

The cold stone is hard against my back as I sit, knees to chest, against the wall. It’s been over an hour. Every few minutes, I send a strong wave of water cascading through the tunnel.

One more. One more, and then I’ll go. Tomorrow, I’ll try a different tunnel. I’ve said this to myself at least six times now, but I mean it this time.

One last ripple sent barreling down.

Minutes pass.

Nothing.

With a weary sigh, I rise, walking away. I’ve almost left the large chamber when I hear it. The rushing whoosh of a ripple.

The same sound I’ve heard repeatedly for the past hour.

Except this time, it’s coming toward me.

My feet slap against the stone floor as I rush back to the mouth of the tunnel in time to see a small wave crest and ebb away.

My legs almost give out.

It came back. It came back.

I stand there for minutes, waiting.

I wait for it to be a trick of echo or my imagination, but then the unmistakable drumbeat of boots splashing reaches my ears—and all the breath leaves my lungs.

A dark silhouette appears in the tunnel, broad shoulders and long, swinging braids. He catches sight of me and runs even faster, the distance vanishing between us like smoke in the air.

The man’s face is shadowed, but his gaze glimmers in the dark.

And I’d know those blue eyes anywhere.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

DAAK BARRELS INTO ME, muscular arms enveloping my torso. He lifts me clear off the ground, twirling me in the air, face buried in my neck. His familiar scent surrounds me—fresh snow and spruce and home.

“Tides, Mayah.” He whispers it against my clavicle like a prayer before setting me down. His depthless blue eyes are fearful as he examines my face, tilting it toward the flickering torchlight, running his hands over my hair, across my shoulders. “I’ve been losing my mind every day, pacing from tunnel to tunnel on the outside, unsure which one would be my salvation. The one that tells me you’re okay. Tides, you’re okay. Tides forgive me, I’ve been drowning without you. Are you all right? Have they hurt you? Have they—”

“I’m fine, Daak,” I murmur, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem convinced. The crease between his brows deepens.

He swallows hard, throat bobbing. “They made you marry him—the Dark Commander.” I flinch at the moniker, and Daak misinterprets it as fear. His eyes brim with remorse, with guilt. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. Fuck, Mayah, I nearly flooded the palace when I found out.” His hands grip my shoulders tighter. “Are you—has he hurt you?”

I bristle at the implication. “No. He hasn’t. We haven’t actually—he’s been kind to me.” I don’t understand why I feel the need to defend Zev to Daak, but I do.

“Kind?” Daak repeats, brow raised. “That’s not a word I’d ever imagined you’d use to describe the Dark Commander. Are you sure you’re all right?” He leads me to the damp, stone wall, guiding me to sit before folding himself down beside me. “How much time do you have? Tell me everything.”

So I do.

I tell him about the Rebellion attack on our carriages and Zev’s initial suspicion. Our shaky truce and the journey across two kingdoms. I omit the part about the arrow wound and power sharing—he doesn’t need to know about that. Then, arriving at the palace and Varad’s duplicitous change of groom.

“And the Dark Commander just agreed to marry you?” Daak asks, glancing at me. His eyes keep scanning me, as if searching for hidden injuries.

“Obviously,” I snort, showing him my betrothal ring.

Daak scowls at the large teardrop diamond glinting on my finger, and for a moment, I fear he might ask me to remove it. Why does that thought burn like acid on my tongue?

“But he hasn’t … touched you?” he asks, voice laced with disbelief.

“No,” I lie smoothly.

Zev has touched me. But only when I begged him to.

Daak shakes his head. “Something must be wrong with his equipment,” he laughs. “To have you in his chambers every night and leave you untouched?” The timbre of his voice drops. “I know what I’d do.” His blue eyes darken, and he leans forward, gaze fixed on my mouth. I stiffen—not from desire, but from tidesdamned guilt.

“I—I can’t stay much longer. I’ll be noticed. We should nail down the plan.”

Disappointment flashes across his face, but he nods.

“You said you’re planning the Equinox Festival?”

“Yes. All the noble families will attend. I’ve ordered zinfadelan—it’ll mask the taste of the poison. You acquired the toxinnia?”

Daak nods. “We have barrels ready to go. No one suspects you? Not the Dark Commander? He’ll drink it, too?”

A sharp pang splinters my heart at the thought of Zev, cold and motionless on the ground, frothy white foam bubbling from his lips.

I swallow down bile. “No. I’ve fooled him.”

Why do I feel like the fool, then?

Daak tugs me closer against his side.

“You’ve done well, Mayah,” he murmurs, arm oppressively heavy over my shoulders. “We’ll bring Arbinj to its knees. With the nobles and royal family dead, you’ll be poised to rule. A safer realm for our people. Just like we planned.”

My lips tremble as I force a smile, but Daak doesn’t seem to notice.

“Parmak’s been wandering about the capital—his dark eyes don’t give him away. Mayah, the people love you. Every other street, someone’s raving about the sweet, healing princess.” He grins at me. “They’ll welcome your rule with open arms.”

His words twist my heart. I didn’t decide to heal in the infirmary as part of our plan—but because I genuinely want to help people. Because healing is who I am.

But if it’s endeared me to the citizens, I suppose there’s no harm in that.

“I—”

He shifts closer. His heated gaze settles on my lips, but my body doesn’t respond like before. It remembers what it used to want. But now … it hesitates.

And then Daak slants his mouth over mine in a kiss I’m too slow to avoid. I freeze as his hands grasp the back of my head, pulling me closer.

It feels wrong. Tides, everything about it is wrong—his taste, his scent, his body. Daak slowly draws back, brows furrowed. He drags his thumb over my lips.

“What is it?”

I inch away from him. “I’m … nervous. Don’t want to get caught.”

His lips quirk into a half-smile. “You used to crave the danger of sneaking around. Or was that only when it was my neck on the line?” His hand caresses my back—it’s meant to be soothing, but it just makes me more tense.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“That was at home, not in the bowels of the enemy’s palace.” I rise to my feet, my skin still crawling beneath the ghost of his touch. “I’ll return tomorrow.”

Without another word, I leave Daak sitting on the floor.

Over the next two days, I keep my routine exactly the same—mornings with Farzina planning the Equinox Festival and the deaths of the Arbinji ruling class—and afternoons in the infirmary.

But my evenings are spent with Daak.

Plotting.

Reminiscing.

Betraying.

It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal. I know Varad orchestrated my mother’s murder. Robbed me of her light, her warmth. Left me plagued with this embarrassing, debilitating fear of storms.

I’ve waited years for this moment. But now that it’s here, it tastes like ash in my mouth.

I shake the thoughts away and ground myself in the present—the cool stone beneath me, the faint trickle of water through the narrow tunnels … and the large hand resting on my lower back.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Daak sits beside me on the cavern floor, a map unfurled before us. He smooths the worn paper with one large hand, a flickering torch casting strange shadows across our plans.

“The Dark Commander just lets you take anything you want from the library?” Daak asks, a disdainful look on his face. “He’s a fool to think you’d ever accept a life here. With him.” He studies my face carefully.

Again, I’m overcome with the urge to defend Zev, but I shove the retort down my throat. A slow-burning anger crackles in my belly, one I can’t completely explain. Or admit. It’s been simmering since that first night when Daak implied my husband might’ve forced himself on me.

Instead, I gesture to the map, marking various backup entrances and exits in case things don’t go as planned at the festival.

Daak nods. “All right. I’ll let the others know. We’ll be ready.”

I move to stand, but he grabs my wrist. “Stay with me a bit longer, Mayah. I’ve missed you.” His voice is soft. The voice that whispered reassurances in my ear through countless thunderstorms. The voice that brought me back from the edge again and again after Sura and Tumaas’s deaths. He raises his arm, and ever so slowly, I lower myself back beside him.

“The palace is a hollow shell without you,” he murmurs, his nose grazing the shell of my ear. “No one to lecture me, drive me insane. No one to kick my ass.”

“I could never kick your ass.” A soft chuckle bursts free, surprising both of us.

“No,” he admits, his eyes brighter than they had been when he pulled me back down. “But it was fun to watch you try.”

Tides, I have missed him. I missed this easy back and forth. He’s the only person who knows all of me—the secret waterwielder, terrified of storms. Daughter to a dead mother and disdainful father. He’s been my best friend for years. My only comfort after Sura and Tumaas died.

I don’t want to hurt him.

But sitting beside him now, his arm slung casually over my shoulders, something is different. I am different. I don’t desire him in the same way. I still love him—I think I always will—but the burning passion is gone.

Melancholy weighs my heart like a rusted anchor.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Everything will change.

I swallow hard, pushing past the tightness in my throat.

“Did the second shipment of food stores arrive?” I ask.

Daak scrubs a hand behind his neck, grinning. “They have. And get this—Arbinj sent over three times the agreed amount. Meat, vegetables, grain. Either someone’s terrible at sums, or they’re bleeding coin and don’t know it.”

I frown. That’s not a small oversight. Still, if it means my people won’t go hungry, I won’t question it. After this is over, when Varad is dead, they’ll never be hungry again.

“How’s Father?” My voice drops. “He hasn’t responded to any of my letters.” Bitterness creeps into my words before I can rein it back.

Daak sighs, brushing a kiss to the top of my head. “He’s well. He worries for you. I tried to convince him to write back, but he didn’t see the point. Any letter would’ve been read several times over before you ever saw it.”

Didn’t see the point? He could’ve asked how I was doing without revealing our plan. If I was being treated well. If I was harmed. If I needed anything. My eyes burn.

“Hey,” Daak says softly. “Remember when I first came to the palace? What you and Sura did?”

I loose a watery laugh at the memory. I was fifteen and furious that Father had appointed a “combat” instructor without consulting me. I expected a grumpy battle-hardened man, not a handsome man of twenty.

Tumaas tried to talk us out of our plan, as he often did, but Sura could never be swayed once she made up her mind. So the two of us offered to give Daak a tour of the capital, trudging through snow and ice to reach the open sea. We took a canoe out to Tarka Island—and left Daak stranded and paddled back.

“Not our brightest idea,” I laugh, wiping my eyes. “Especially when you just froze the water and marched back, ready to drown us.”

Daak chuckles. “I was pretty pissed. I knew then that I’d have my hands full with you.” He cups my cheek, all traces of humor vanished from his face. “I know this has taken a toll on you. I can see it—you seem different. But it’s almost over, Mayah. All of it will have been worth it. Just bear it a little longer. For me.”

I can.

I can bear it.

It’s the lies we tell ourselves that keep us moving forward.