Текст книги "Between Tides & Thunder"

Автор книги: Lena Kazak

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

IT’S NO SURPRISE THAT I wake alone. My rage must have steeped inside my chest all night, because its bitter taste is hot on my tongue. I storm out of the tent and find Zev packing up camp.

My feet pound into the dirt as I storm over, jabbing a finger into his chest. He regards me coolly, utterly unfazed by my anger.

“You will not touch me again,” I seethe. “If there’s another storm, I’ll stay outside so my pathetic ‘whimpering’ doesn’t disturb your beauty sleep.”

Zev dislodges my finger from his chest. I shove it back harder.

“And the first chance I get to go my own way, I’ll take it.”

I watch as my words hit him.

His expression betrays nothing.

“Tides damn you to the ends of the eternal sea.” I grit my teeth, rage burning hotter in my belly at his lack of reaction. “If we come across ten rebels who decide they’re going to channel their power into me, all ten of them, you will not interfere.”

His gaze grows hot, angry. “Fine by me,” he growls. “Anything else?”

“And if I decide I want to marry one of those ten men, or all of them, ride off into the sunset and bear their children, you will annul our marriage. Actually, let’s annul it immediately.”

“Sure.” His voice is flint, but the tightness around his mouth hints at something else. “And if I forget any of that, wife, you’re always welcome to tell me to stop.”

“I mean it,” I hiss, my face heating. “I’m not your responsibility anymore. You made that clear last night. Whatever this was, whatever we were—I’m done being your burden.”

“Finally,” Zev snarls. “I’ll personally hand you over to the first rebels we see.”

I step closer, narrowed eyes locked on his.

“You’re lying.”

His lip curls into something feral. “Don’t you fucking talk to me about lying—”

Zev slams his jaw shut. A moment later his hand clamps over my mouth.

A finger to his lips is the only warning he gives before shoving me behind him. He scans the trees, body coiled and ready.

“What—”

He shushes me. The asshole shushes me.

Then I hear it.

The quiet rustling of branches, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot.

Zev tenses, one arm reaching back to wrap around my waist, his body a shield covering mine.

He raises a hand, and the sky darkens, a storm ready to do his bidding.

Then in a sudden, fierce wave, they emerge through the trees—over a dozen hooded men, dressed in dark leather and swishing cloaks.

Rebels.

“Leave now,” Zev declares. “And I’ll spare you.” Thunder rumbles ominously, as if agreeing with him.

I study the men closely—their hands grip their pommels, but none seem overly inclined to unsheathe them.

“Wait.” I shove past Zev, elbowing his side when he tries to haul me back.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, eyes lethal. “Stay behind me.”

But I’m done cowering. I’m done hiding.

Especially behind him.

“For someone who claims he doesn’t want me, you sure act like I’m yours.” I direct my attention to the rebels before he can respond. “What do you want? Why are you after us?” I call out to the hooded men.

“Mayah.” I think Zev’s teeth might crack. “You’ve made your point. I’m not actually letting you go with them. Get. Behind. Me.”

His hand closes around my upper arm like an iron cuff and yanks me back. I crash into his side, the air whooshing out of me as if I’ve slammed against a stone wall. My knees buckle from the impact, and I would’ve tumbled to the ground if not for Zev’s painful grip on my arm.

“That’s no way to treat your wife, Vayru.”

Zev goes stock still, his fingers digging into my skin.

Slowly, he turns his head.

The wall of leather-clad rebels parts, and a slim, hooded figure emerges from between them.

A woman.

He blinks once. Then again. His grip loosens on my arm, but he doesn’t completely let go.

She shakes off her hood, revealing dark, thickly braided hair, streaked with flashes of white. Her face is lined with age, full lips curled into a warm smile.

But it’s her eyes that steal my breath.

Bright. Warm. Maternal.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

“IMPOSSIBLE. HE—HE HAD YOU killed.” Zev’s spine is rigid.

The woman’s dark eyes alight with remorse. Or perhaps guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Vayru. I left.” She takes a step toward us, and Zev’s fingers tighten around my arm again. His eyes are anguished, a deep crease etched between his brows—but it’s the harrowing look of utter betrayal on his face that guts me.

“Varad didn’t kill me,” she continues, stepping closer. “But he wasn’t kind to me, either. You know I suffered. Every nonwielder suffered. I couldn’t bear it anymore. So when I had the chance, I left.”

For a moment, Zev just stares at her, as if his mind doesn’t believe what his eyes are telling him.

Then—“You left me with them,” he bites out. “Alone.” His voice breaks on the last word, like it’s been lodged in his throat for years. The bitterness in his tone scrapes against the jagged fissures in my heart. “He told me you went home. To Volca.” A shaky inhale. “He was lying.”

Zev’s mother nods. Another step forward. “He didn’t know where I went. He was trying to appease you. Varad didn’t see me as a threat.” Her lips twist into a hateful smile, fingers absently rubbing her wrist. “He should have.”

“You could’ve taken me with you.”

The sky begins to weep.

She shakes her head, sadness and regret swirling in her eyes. Graceful fingers tuck her hood back over her head. “I wanted to. But I couldn’t. I’m so sorry, Vayru. Varad would’ve torn the world apart to find me if I had you.” She raises a cautious hand. “But I kept tabs on you. I watched you grow. The strong wielder you’ve become. The formidable Commander.” Her gaze cuts to me for the first time. Her dark eyes are warm. “And I was thrilled to learn of your marriage. That perhaps, you two would find happiness in each other. Meerah would have wanted that.”

My breath stutters.

Zev’s face freezes.

The rain pelts down harder.

“You knew my mother?” I whisper.

She nods, a soft dip of her head. “We were both nonwielder mothers of royal children. We both fled, sought refuge with the rebels. It’s where we met. The first time I saw you, Mayah, you had a toy reindeer in one hand and were clutching Meerah’s leg with the other, looking suspiciously at grass. Like you didn’t trust it because it wasn’t white and cold.” Zev’s mother glances away. “I told Meerah to send you back. That she’d endangered herself by fleeing with you. But she wouldn’t listen. And the price was her life.”

My throat tightens. Mama’s name on this woman’s lips twists something in me. Zev’s eyes sear a brand into the side of my face, but I don’t look at him.

I can’t.

I brace myself with a shuddering breath. “Why did you attack us?” I ask. “When we were leaving Tundrayn.”

“We wanted to take you then, before you ever made it to Arbinj. But my men didn’t expect you to be in the prisoners’ carriage.” Her smile is sharp. “And we expected Faramir with you. Not Vayru.” She smiles, her face lit with a rueful pride. “My son is quite clever. By the time they saw you, Vayru had already decimated most of my men.”

“And in the woods near Arbinj? What about those rebels?”

Her lips purse. “We found their … remains. Those men didn’t know who you were. They’d have never attacked otherwise.”

My head spins. The ground tilts beneath my feet, and if not for Zev anchoring me, I might collapse.

She knew Mama. She knew Mama. She knew Mama.

My knees buckle, and I lean against Zev, letting him support my weight.

“What do you want with me?” I breathe.

She smiles again, warm and maternal.

“I promised your mother I’d look after you.” Her eyes flick to Zev. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“You’re lying,” Zev growls. His muscled arm snakes possessively across my chest.

Thunder rumbles.

His mother clicks her tongue, unfazed, as if she spent a lifetime diffusing his temper. “Easy. I know better than to lie to you, Vayru.” Her dark gaze finds me again. “The Rebellion needs you, Mayah. We’re planning something—something big. We need your help.”

When I don’t immediately decline, Zev scrubs a violent hand over his face. “Mayah, no. They want to use you as a pawn.”

“I remember the night Meerah died, Mayah,” his mother says softly. “Tormik took many lives. You were so small—asleep in a nameless warrior’s arms as they brought you from the house. Your father had just murdered your mother and couldn’t even carry you himself.” Her voice grows hard. “I want him gone, Mayah. Both him and Varad. Come with us.”

“She’s not yours to command,” Zev grits out. He pulls me closer against him. But it’s not just out of protection. It’s fear. Fear that I’ll say yes.

“I will respect her decision,” his mother says, arms crossed.

My heart batters my ribs.

This is my chance. I can have my revenge on my father.

I can be free of Zev.

Except I’m not sure that’s what I truly want. Even after last night.

My eyes seek out his—anguish mars every line of his tanned face. I’ve never seen such fear, not even when he was strung up in the Tundrayni camp. Like he’s afraid I’m about to tear his heart from his chest. Again.

I bite my lip, turning to face his mother.

“How can I trust you?”

“Trust is built over time. I don’t expect to earn it immediately. But I swear by the Flames, Mayah, I mean you no harm.” Her eyes cut to Zev, almost in challenge. She waits a moment, then adds, “And your husband is welcome to join us, if he chooses.” She pointedly eyes his iron grip on my arm, where I’m certain his fingerprints are seared into my skin.

I don’t have an answer.

“I—”

A muffled shout filters into the clearing. Then again, closer this time. It almost sounds like my name.

A frantic thudding of boots, then a slender figure rushes in through the trees, twin braids swaying.

“Mayah!”

My heart stops.

Clear, blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face.

Her lips curve into a bright, lopsided smile.

For a moment, I don’t believe it. I’m seeing ghosts. My vision slants, like the ground beneath me has gone askew. But then she says my name again in that sing-song lilt I know like my own breath, and the world shifts back into place.

“Mayah-bear!”

I blink once. Twice.

“Sura?”

She grins, and I wrench away from Zev and run—because that’s what you do when someone you love comes back from the dead. Sura staggers backward as I barrel into her, tears flowing down my cheeks, mingling with the drizzling rain.

“You’re alive,” I gasp, clutching her face between trembling hands. “How? How?”

Sura’s gaze turns sharp as it knifes through Zev. “It was chaos the night he incinerated our camp. But Tumaas and I escaped under the cover of dark. A few others, too. Then Tairna found us.” She nods toward Zev’s mother.

“Tumaas?” My heart might burst. “He’s alive, too?”

She nods. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

I draw back and drink her in, hands still cradling her face. Her features have sharpened over the years. But Tides, it’s my Sura.

“Why didn’t you come home?”

Her face falls. “Your father … he’d have just sent us back to the front lines eventually. I’m sorry, Mayah.” She laces her fingers through mine, where my hands still cradle her face. “Come with us.”

I glance back at Zev.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. But his storm dies down, unraveling like thread from the sky.

He knows I’ve chosen.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

“I’M SO SORRY ABOUT the iron,” Sura says for the hundredth time. Her knee grazes mine as the carriage lurches forward. We’re crammed in here—Zev and I sandwiched together on one side, Sura across from us. Her gaze flits between the slim cuffs on my wrists and the thick shackles around Zev’s. She purses her lips, and I know the apology is meant only for me.

After we agreed to go with them, one of the rebels quickly cuffed Zev, then me. The burly man had intended to collar Zev as well, and if not for the iron, I might’ve sent an ice spear hurtling through him. I couldn’t stomach the thought of Zev in an iron collar because of me—again. But luckily, Tairna had stepped in and insisted the shackles were enough to restrain him.

Still, my chest tightens now at the sight of the iron glinting around his thick wrists. Sura clears her throat, and I tear my gaze away. “It’s all right,” I murmur, bumping into Zev’s side as the carriage jostles again. My skin burns beneath the fabric separating us. “A precaution you needed to take.” The words taste like ash in my mouth.

“Yeah. Especially considering…” She trails off, her cool gaze landing on Zev. His hands flex, but he ignores her thinly veiled jibe. Like he’s ignored the last hundred of them.

“You’ve been well, Mayah?” my best friend asks, eyes shadowed with concern. “And Daak? How is he?”

Zev stills, spine going rigid. The air in the cramped space seems to grow colder. I’m surprised my breath doesn’t mist when I exhale shakily.

“Daak is dead,” I whisper.

A ragged gasp tears from Sura’s lips. “Tides carry him to peaceful waters. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, you must’ve been—”

“Tell me about the Rebellion,” I interject quickly, trying to mask the quiver of my chin. I glance sideways at Zev, gauging his reaction. His stony gaze is fixed outside the smudged window, a muscle ticking in his jaw, knuckles white as snow.

Tides drown me. When did my grief twist into something that hurt more for Zev than for Daak?

Sura bites her lip, glancing at Zev.

“Not about strategy or plans or anything,” I add quickly. “Tell me about your life. About Tumaas.”

“It’s been surprisingly … good. Happy. I have friends. A purpose. I’m a warrior, of course, but outside of that, I look after the camp’s children.”

I smile softly, imagining vibrant Sura with a gaggle of little ones around her. “That’s perfect for you.”

She hums, a bright smile on her face.

“Tumaas works in the forge. He and I share a room, which gets … awkward at times. He’s missed you terribly! I can’t wait to see his face when he sees you.”

Zev’s body is taut beside me.

“I’ve missed him, too. Both of you.”

If Zev doesn’t take a breath soon, someone might mistake him for a statue.

The carriage lurches to a stop, and Sura bolts to her feet. “We’re here!” she sings. “Don’t move.” She flounces from the carriage, leaving me alone with my husband.

Silence stretches between us, pressing down on my lungs.

I can’t bear it.

“You didn’t have to come with me.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I would’ve been fine on my own.”

“I didn’t come for you,” he huffs. The words land harder than they should. I brace myself against them, but still, they find the softest parts of me and burrow inside. “I want to see Tairna’s work. What she chose over me.” Bitterness threads his voice, and my heart aches for him even as his words tear open a wound still struggling to heal.

“I’m sorry.” My hand wavers. I want to reach for him.

I don’t.

“But your mother is still alive, Zev. You can decide how your story ends. I’d give anything to be standing where you are.”

His head swivels, and he stares at me with a haunted expression—

The carriage door opens.

“We’re ready for you,” Sura announces in her lilting voice. I let her tug me from the carriage, Zev close behind.

The Rebellion camp is modest but alive with purpose. Everywhere I look, there are people hard at work—sharpening blades, mending clothes, hauling supplies. It hums with efficiency. With life.

But what surprises me most are the actual buildings, several of them rising four, even five stories tall. I’d expected ramshackle structures or canvas tents.

Sura catches my stare and grins. “Earthwielders,” she tells me proudly. “They reinforce the ground with roots, then grow more to cradle the beams. Add in a little metal, and you get something strong enough to last through a siege.”

Waterwielders contribute as well, managing the camp’s plumbing and irrigation systems. The camp is far more advanced than I expected. Sura tells us this is the largest of several camps, surrounded by a well-guarded, wrought-metal fence.

As we explore the camp, the rebels eye me with curiosity. But when their gazes land on Zev, their expressions morph into fear, and sometimes, even open animosity.

The Dark Commander’s reputation precedes him.

Sura and Tairna lead us to a forge, where the smell of smoke and metal clings to the air. Three men work at different stations, all covered in a slick sheen of sweat. Two of them hammer glowing swords, whilst a third coats arrowheads in a thick, shiny liquid.

My breath catches.

I recognize the third man—sunkissed skin, the sides of his head shaved down, dark braids cascading down his back. A worn leather apron is tied haphazardly across his chest, but the carefree man didn’t bother putting on a shirt beneath it.

He’s so focused on his task, he doesn’t notice us.

“Tumaas,” Sura calls in her sing-song voice.

“I don’t have any more coin for you, Sura,” he calls back without looking up. “Leave me be.”

“Tu-maaaaas,” she sings again. Her smile is so wide, it brings tears to my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I smiled, let alone that brightly.

“Tides drown you, Sura,” Tumaas mutters, shaking out a dripping arrowhead before glancing up.

He stills.

The arrowhead falls to the ground with a muted thud, silver liquid pooling into a metallic puddle by his feet.

“It’s Mayah-bear!” Sura squeals, but Tumaas is already running. My footsteps match his own, and we meet in the middle. He lifts me clear into the air, twirling in a fast circle. My loose hair flies around me, a surprised peal of laughter escaping my chest.

He’s gained even more muscle. The years have hardened his face, sharp lines where there were softer angles, but his eyes are the same.

Kind. Warm. Friendly.

My hands are slick with the sweat coating his shoulders, so I wipe them on his cheeks. He throws his head back and laughs—loud and unguarded—and I can’t help but laugh with him, until tears gather at the corners of my eyes, blurring the world with joy.

Over Tumaas’s head, my eyes land on Zev. His steely stare is a brand on my skin. For one foolish heartbeat, I want him to storm over to me—to clasp my hand and pull me away. To say something. Anything.

His fists clench at his sides, but he doesn’t move.

Tumaas sets me down and pulls me into an embrace, crushing me against his firm, sweaty chest. “My sweet Mayah,” he murmurs into my hair.

“Let her breathe, you big oaf,” Sura calls.

He draws back, cradling my face. “I cannot tell you what torture I’ve endured without you. No one to temper her”—he jerks his head toward Sura—“and her lunacy.” He kisses my forehead.

I twist in Tumaas’s arms, ready to tease Sura, but my gaze snags on Zev again. The smile falls from my face. A muscle pulses furiously in his jaw, tendons bulging in his neck. Tairna’s concerned gaze flits between us.

Sura glides over to me, tugging me from her brother’s hold and linking our arms. “Tumaas, you better find somewhere else to sleep. Mayah’s going to take your bed.”

She leads me away.

“Sura,” Tairna calls from behind us. “That’s very kind of you. But surely Mayah would prefer accommodations with her husband.”

I freeze. So does Sura. We slowly turn.

Zev stares at me, a storm warring in his gray eyes.

I stare back.

He doesn’t object.

Neither do I.

A scowl pulls at Sura’s full lips.

“Right. I guess that’s fine,” she says woodenly. Sura throws a lethal glare at Zev, but he doesn’t notice—his attention is still fixed on me. “There’s an open bedroom on our floor that should work.”

I let her lead us forward.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

SURA RELUCTANTLY LEAVES ME and Zev in a small bedroom down the hallway from the one she shares with Tumaas. According to her, it has its own attached washroom—everyone else on this floor shares a communal bath.

Zev inspects the room, locks the door, then wedges a chair against it for good measure. I lean against a wall, quietly observing as he paces the room, one hand raking through his hair like it can’t settle anywhere else. With a heavy sigh, he sinks onto the small sofa, cradling his head. His shoulders slump, as if they can’t bear any more weight.

With hesitant footsteps, I join him on the sofa, leaving enough room for the baggage between us. “Are you all right?” I ask softly. My hand wavers, but I force it to remain in my lap.

He doesn’t respond, but his shoulders slump lower.

“Do you—do you want a hug?”

He scoffs bitterly. “Why would I want that?” is his muffled reply.

I shrug. “You look like you could use a hug.”

He sits back, elbows braced on his knees, and glares at me. “You forbade me from touching you, remember?” A muscle ticks in his jaw.

I roll my eyes. “That’s never stopped you before.”

He just stares at me, angry. He’s always angry.

“Look,” I add softly. “It’s been a lot for both of us. With your mother and the rebels and Sura and…” I trail off. My father. My people.

He doesn’t answer.

I don’t know why, but his silence shatters something deep inside me, something so broken, I’m surprised it can splinter further. My world has shifted and realigned more times than I can count in the span of mere days—but through it all, he’s been the one constant. Angry, cruel, impossible or not—it’s been just me and him for so long.

The bond of a lifetime, forged within months—

–and shattered in one single wretched moment.

I blink against the sudden sting behind my eyes.

“Maybe I was the one who needed a hug,” I whisper brokenly. I rise from the sofa when, with a muffled grunt, he grabs my wrist and yanks me into his lap. My breath escapes in a surprised whoosh. His muscled arms wrap around me, and he buries his face against my neck. My fingers tangle in his hair, and his warm breath against my skin sets my heart aflutter.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he mutters against my collarbones.

“I know,” I whisper back, raking my nails against his scalp. I drag them down to his neck, then his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles until his body relaxes. His head tips slightly, resting heavier on my clavicle.

I can almost pretend he’s still mine.

I hold him tighter, and he nuzzles the soft skin of my neck, inhaling deeply. I swallow hard, and the movement has his lips just brushing the faint slant of my throat.

His breath is hot against my neck when he asks, “If I tell you to stay here while I talk to Tairna, would you listen?”

“No.”

“What if I ask nicely?”

“I’d think about it longer. But I still wouldn’t listen.”

He leans back and sighs, deep and long-suffering, though I don’t miss the faint twitch of his lips.

“Let’s go.”

Torches line the narrow corridors as we head toward Tairna’s office, located one floor above us. The scratched wooden floor creaks beneath our boots, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder just how stable the structure really is.

The door to Tairna’s office is simple. Unassuming. If Sura hadn’t pointed it out earlier, I’d never have guessed this is where the leader of the camp spends her time. Zev’s lone knock echoes around us, flames glinting off his thick iron cuff.

Tairna bids us to enter—she doesn’t look surprised by our visit.

Her office is small and austere, the kind of space where every object has a purpose and nothing is wasted on vanity. A large, battered table dominates nearly half the room, its surface scratched and scarred. Several mismatched chairs are tucked in around it.

The only hint of sentiment is a single painting leaning against a wall: a striking image of Mother Valca, its dark smoking peak rising above a field of red-gold lava. In the sky, a jagged lightning bolt pierces through the night-black paint.

“My son and his beautiful wife,” she greets as we enter, a wide smile lighting her face. “May the Flames bless your union with eternal happiness.” She beams at me. I shift awkwardly on my feet, managing a weak smile. Zev just grunts.

“Is your room suitable?” Tairna continues, gesturing to the chairs across from her. “Anything you need?”

A beat.

“Our room is lovely,” I reply, glancing at Zev. Did he take another vow of silence? “Thank you.”

Zev pulls out a chair for me, then folds his large frame into another. I guess we’re pretending to be a happy couple.

His mother gazes at us, chin resting over steepled fingers.

“Tell us your plan,” Zev says gruffly.

Ah. There’s my charming husband.

Tairna leans back in her chair, a soft smile curving her lips. “Always so impatient, Vayru.” Zev remains stone-faced, and her smile slowly dims. “The plan is simple. We attack both Tundrayn and Arbinj on the same day. Obtain control of the capitals at once.”

“You don’t have enough men for that.”

“Oh, but we do.” Tairna’s smile returns, though it’s conspiratorial this time. “Tell me, how is that Volcan-Arbinji alliance coming along?” Her dark eyes glitter in the lamplight. “It isn’t. Because they’ve allied with us.”

Zev’s lips part in surprise, and I’m certain the same shock is mirrored on my face.

My husband recovers before I do. “And then?”

“And then we declare Mayah—and you—rulers over both kingdoms. The people will accept her—the healer princess. She’s already won over the Arbinji citizens.”

“And me?” Zev’s voice is cold as ice.

“Your reputation in the war … you won’t be well-received in Tundrayn. But at Mayah’s side, I’m certain her people will accept you in time. And—”

“There’s a slight problem with your plan,” I interject, biting my lip. “My people … they—” I loose a shuddering breath, chin quivering. “At the Tundrayni camp, we—”

My throat closes up. Hot tears blur my vision.

“That’s where Mayah learned it was Tormik that killed her mother,” Zev supplies, eyeing me sideways. His hands clench into fists in his lap. “Tormik and a few men escaped, but the remaining warriors attacked us. Mayah and I managed to protect ourselves.” Another sideways glance. “The warriors are … gone.”

A look of understanding crosses Tairna’s face. “You think your people won’t accept you as queen because you killed your own warriors?”

I flinch at her words. Zev’s knuckles flare white. My chin dips in a hesitant nod.

“Hmm,” Tairna muses. “It’s not ideal. But not insurmountable. Once your people learn it was Tormik that murdered Meerah”—I flinch again, and Zev grits his teeth—“they’ll support you.” Tairna taps her chin, deep in thought. She sits straighter in her chair, studying us with steely resolve. “The plan remains unchanged. You rule Arbinj and Tundrayn.”

I worry my lower lip. I want to trust her, this woman who says my mother’s name with such tenderness. I want to believe she trusts me with power because of my stance on nonwielders. But how much of that power does she want for herself?

“Do you expect me to be your puppet?”

“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be left unchecked. We’ll install oversight councils in both kingdoms. I’ll serve on your council in Arbinj, along with my advisers. But I have no doubt you’ll be honorable, good monarchs. Sauzon speaks so highly of you, Mayah.”

“You know Sauzon?” I ask in surprise.

She nods. “I have spies in both palaces. Sauzon is one of them.”

Zev stiffens, tilting his head. Tairna’s eyes flicker as she glances toward him, dipping her chin a hair’s breadth. They seem to be having a silent conversation, and I don’t like being on the outside.

“Sauzon is a shield,” Tairna finally says aloud, gaze still locked with her son’s.

“A shield?” I repeat, brows furrowed.

“It’s a unique wielding capability,” she explains. “We’ve only recently learned of it. They are impervious to the effects of heart– and truthwielders. Most shields are assumed to be nonwielders their entire lives. We only learned of them last year. There was a new recruit—she was hysterical after enduring severe trauma. One of our heartwielders tried to calm her, but his power wouldn’t work. After that, we began testing everyone.”

My mind reels with this new information—with how much knowledge the Rebellion has gleaned, how far-reaching their plans are. How ready they are to change the realm.

Tairna’s gaze finds mine again. “As I said, Mayah, I have no doubt you’d be an incredible queen. I want someone who cares for both wielders and nonwielders alike. A better world for all of us.”

“But how can you trust us so quickly?”

“I told you I’ve had spies in both Tundrayn and Arbinj. I know you’ve been fighting for nonwielders for years. And from what Sauzon tells me, I know you’re a kind, good person.” She glances at Zev, giving him a faint smile. “And I already know my son’s heart.”

I mull over her words. “What do you think, Zev?” I ask softly. “You don’t want to rule.” I don’t mention the nonexistent state of our marriage. My intuition tells me that Zev doesn’t want his mother to know of our … marital troubles.

“Zev…” Tairna repeats, a wistful smile on her lips. “No one’s called you that since—”

“Lev.” The name tears from my husband’s throat like a curse.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “I was very sorry to hear of his death.”

“Were you?” Zev snaps, leaning forward. “Did you also hear of my father’s reaction?”

The temperature in the room drops several degrees. The air thickens—like it’s waiting for lightning. The blood drains from Tairna’s stricken face. She shakes her head.

“He said Lev must’ve been a worthless wielder if he managed to get himself frozen.” His voice cracks. “Wouldn’t let me attend his funeral. Couldn’t risk the kingdom seeing their commander weep like a pathetic girl.” His fists clench around the armrests until the wood groans, and I know, if not for his iron cuffs, there would be a storm gathering in this very room. “He mocked Lev in every council meeting for two months, calling him frozen fucking dirt, until I could get through without showing any emotion.”

Twin tears slide down Tairna’s cheeks. Too slow. Too late.

“I’m so sor—”

“Spare me your useless apologies.” His voice is cold. Empty. “You’ve done a great job with the Rebellion. Well fucking done, Tairna.” She flinches. He leans farther across the table, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “Tell me, how did I fit into your grand plan if I hadn’t married Mayah and fallen into your lap along with her? Were you planning to kill me, too?”

“Vayru, please, of course not! I-I am truly sorry for what you’ve endured. Without me there to support you. But Varad’s cruelty is exactly why we need to—”

Zev slams both his fists against the worn surface of the table, his iron cuffs clacking against the wood. Tairna and I both jump at the sudden sound. His chair nearly topples backward as he shoots up, thundering toward the door.