Текст книги "Between Tides & Thunder"
Автор книги: Lena Kazak
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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
Torn, I glance back at Tairna—still seated, still crying. My questions about Mama will have to wait. I rise and follow the man who might never let me in again.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
THE NARROW CORRIDORS SEEM even more cramped beneath the weight of Zev’s rage as we return to our room. We’re nearly there, when a door in the hallway flings open. Sura leans out, wearing a deep, burgundy dress and her lopsided smile.
“I thought I heard someone stamping through here.” Pushing off the doorframe, she links her arm through mine, ignoring Zev completely. “There’s a dance tonight. We have one every other week or so. You must come. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
I cut my eyes toward Zev—I don't want to leave him, not after the explosive conversation with his mother. But he won't meet my gaze. He probably doesn't even want any comfort I might offer. When Sura tugs me toward her room, I let her. I turn back to find Zev staring at our linked arms, eyes shadowed.
“I’ll—I’ll see you later?” My voice rises at the end. I still don’t know where we stand. He gives a barely perceptible nod and stalks into our room.
The door slams shut.
Sura’s room is small but tidy—her side at least. There’s a clear demarcation where Tumaas’s chaos begins.
For a moment, my best friend just looks at me. “Oh, Mayah,” she murmurs, and then I’m wrapped in her embrace. I’m not sure who starts crying first, but within minutes, we’re a sobbing heap of shaking limbs on the floor.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cries into my shoulder.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” My voice is hoarse. “I am sorry. I didn’t do enough for nonwielders. You couldn’t come home. He-he never let it be your home. I’m happy you found your place. Truly.”
We draw back, wiping away each other’s tears. “You did what you could,” she whispers, her lopsided smile wavering. “And we’re together now.”
With a loud sniffle, she rises, bringing me along with her. I settle onto her neatly made bed—Tumaas’s thin mattress is covered with wrinkled clothing and a stained leather apron. She rummages through her closet, selecting a few dresses and handing them to me.
I try the dresses on, waiting for her to ask me about Zev, but she never does. Truthfully, I’m relieved. What would I even say? I’m married to the man who tried to kill you? I’m torn about my feelings for him? He hates me most of the time?
The words knot in my throat. So I say nothing at all.
The makeshift dance hall is one of the smaller structures in the Rebellion camp. The walls are uneven, clearly thrown together in haste—I suspect the earthwielder responsible might have been tipsy. Flickering lanterns cast a warm glow across the space. The floor is scuffed and stained, but it’s been cleared to make room for dancing—just enough space for a dozen people to move freely without bumping elbows.
Sura links her arm through mine, smoothing the blue fabric of my borrowed dress, and tugs me through the crowd. The room hums with life—men and women spinning, swaying, laughing. Boots thump against the wooden floor, arms thrown around waists and shoulders as they twirl.
But as I trudge deeper, a hush ripples through the room like a sudden, silencing breeze. Conversations falter, movements slow. Even the ragtag group of musicians in the corner stops playing when they see me.
Sura coughs loudly, hand on her hip. That’s all it takes for the room to find its rhythm again. She drags me through the crowd and introduces me to her friends—the new life she’s created.
“This is Mona.” Sura slings her arm around the shoulders of a petite girl with chin-length blond hair. “She works with me in the childcare area. You should see her with the munchkins. She blends right in.” Mona elbows Sura in the ribs, rolling her eyes.
Sura introduces me to a few more people, though I’m embarrassed to admit I forget their names almost immediately. One of the men works in the kitchens, another in the armory. I smile brightly, offering pleasantries, but my gaze keeps returning to the door.
I don’t recognize anyone who walks through. Disappointment wells in my chest, but I keep my smile frozen on my face.
Back turned to the door, I’m nursing a mug of ale as I listen to one of the women prattle on about how handsome Tumaas is.
“Bleurgh.” Sura pretends to vomit. “I don’t know what you lot see in him. Besides, he’s spoken for. Right, Mayah-bear?”
I don’t respond. There’s a sudden shift in the air. It vibrates through me until every molecule in my body thrums. My fingers tighten around my glass.
If conversations faltered when I entered, the room goes deathly still now. With stark clarity, I realize why Tairna wants me to lead. The people fear Zev—despise him, even.
Zev.
His gaze burns into my back. Slowly, I pivot and face my husband. He hasn’t changed out of his clothes, still wearing the same dark shirt and trousers we’d arrived in.
His stormy gaze rakes over me, lingering on the dark, loose curls around my shoulders, my rouge-tinted lips, the bare skin above the sweetheart neckline of my borrowed blue dress.
When his eyes meet mine again, they’re as dark as night, their heat searing into me from clear across the room. A ripple of anticipation skitters down my spine, and for a brief, foolish second, I think he’ll approach me.
Nothing prepares me for the jarring plummet in my stomach when he strides to the bar instead, flagging down the barkeep.
A glass shatters somewhere behind me, followed by a loud whoop, and the room resumes its joy.
“Mayah?” Sura nudges my shoulder.
“W-what?” I stammer, turning to her.
Her deep blue eyes narrow as she studies my face, glancing toward the bar. “I asked if you want to dance.”
“Oh. Um, no. I’m all right. You go ahead.”
“I’ll check in on you soon,” she promises with a quick kiss to my cheek, then joins the crowd on the floor. The dance is nothing like the Tundrayni drum dance or even the ballroom dance of Arbinj—it’s something else entirely, all loose limbs, swaying hips, and wide smiles as partners twirl each other, never releasing their joined hands.
I watch Sura for a while. She moves with a carefree energy that I almost envy, her head thrown back in joy. She’s been happy—she must have been to laugh so freely. My heart swells at the thought, but there’s also an undercurrent of grief I can’t ignore.
“You should ask him to dance,” a warm voice says in my ear.
I startle. It’s Zev’s mother, leaning on the table beside me. I hadn’t heard her approach in the raucous room. Her eyes are ringed in red, as if she cried long after we left her office. Still, she manages to smile as she adds, “He can’t keep his eyes off you.”
My cheeks heat.
If he wanted to dance with me, he would have asked. The bitter words bounce around my head, but I can’t exactly voice them to my mother-in-law. Instead, I gesture to the table, and we sit.
I fidget with my hands, and after a beat, ask the question that’s lingered on my tongue since I learned she knew Mama.
“What do you remember about my mother?”
The lines around Tairna’s mouth tighten. “She was brave. Kind. We both arrived within weeks of each other. Not this camp, of course. Everyone fled after Tormik discovered it. Those who survived, anyway.” She sighs, tapping her fingers on the worn table. “Meerah kept her identity a secret, but I could tell from her mannerisms that she was noble. I’d been around enough highborn ladies by then. Eventually, I asked her point-blank, and she told me who she was. We were fast friends after that.”
Tairna’s eyes glisten, and when she smiles, it’s grief that hugs the curve of her lips. “I tried to convince her to send you back, Mayah. I-I don’t know if that was right of me. But I knew a king would never tolerate losing his heir. But she wouldn’t listen. She loved you. More than her own life. She couldn’t bear to be parted from you.” Tairna reaches across the table and brushes a tear from my cheek. I’m not sure when I began crying.
My mother-in-law takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “She would have been proud of the woman you’ve become.” Her hand covers mine over the table, and I’m surprised to find I welcome her comfort.
Tairna bites her lip, her dark gaze fixed over my shoulder. “I didn’t want to leave him, Mayah. But I had no other choice. It killed me bit by bit every day, knowing he was still there. Alone. And it’s killing me now to see the pain I caused him. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me.” A lone tear slides down her cheek, quickly wiped away. “But just being near him is enough.”
Her words slice through me in a way I don’t expect.
I know exactly how she feels.
“Will you tell me about him?” she requests softly. There’s hesitation in her eyes, but also hope.
“He thought you were dead. It’s haunted him.” I resist the urge to turn and look at him. “It’s been difficult for Zev with Faramir and his father. But even through all that grief, all the evil around him, he managed to turn out good. And, I think, it’s because of you.”
Another tear slides down her cheek as she shakes her head. “That’s kind of you to say. But Vayru made himself into who he is.” She sniffles, wiping her tears. “What about his relationship with his father?” Her fingers absently rub her wrist.
I press my lips into a grim line. At the palace, I had viewed everything Varad did through a lens of hatred. Now, I’m not sure.
“I think Varad loves him in his own way.” Tairna’s lips tighten into a scowl. “He wasn’t a good father by any means. But he tolerated more disrespect from Zev than my father would’ve ever allowed from me.” I cut my gaze to hers. “The marriage proposal to his ‘second son’ was just an excuse. Varad intended to ransom me—he told me as much. I think he only agreed to the marriage because he could see that Zev—” The words don’t want to pass through my lips. “Zev cared about me.” My voice cracks.
Tairna doesn’t say anything for several heartbeats, just swirls the amber liquid in her glass. “Has Zev been happy?”
I don’t want to tell her the truth.
“I think he’s been alone for a long time. He doesn’t trust anyone. Doesn’t let anyone in.”
She gives me a soft smile. “Until you.”
I take a deep swig of ale to mask the trembling of my lips. When I don’t return Tairna’s smile, hers slowly fades. “Were you disappointed to have married him? Instead of Faramir?”
“No. Not at all.” My words ring with truth. “I was relieved, actually. Zev and I had gotten to know each other better during the journey. I knew he was a good man. That he wouldn’t hurt me. That … I could trust him.” Fresh tears well in my eyes. I take a shaky breath, forcing my heart to slow.
“And are you happy with my son?” she asks softly.
“I-I don’t think Zev would like it if he knew I’d discussed our marriage this way.”
“Fair enough.” Tairna rests her chin on her hand. “I’ll tell you what I’ve observed so far. You don’t have to respond or even react.” She tucks a lock of snow-streaked hair behind her ear. “There’s tension between you. Mountains of it. Perhaps trust that has been broken? You’re afraid of being hurt. So is he. There’s also a lot of anger in him. At me. At you.” My lips part in surprise, and she gives me a knowing smile. “But there’s also the good kind of tension. Flames, I thought we’d have to pry his hand off your arm with a metal bar back in the woods. Vayru is fiercely protective of you. And you let him be. You don’t strike me as someone who allows others to stand in front of her. He’s been watching you since he arrived tonight, and I just know he’s only here because you are.”
“How can you possibly know that?” I whisper.
“Call it mother’s intuition,” Tairna says with a watery smile. “I haven’t seen him in years—but I know his heart, Mayah.” She swishes the ale in her mug. “He’s done horrible things. Committed atrocities. But haven’t we all? Sometimes we’re forced to do terrible things—relish them, even—because of lies we’ve been told. Out of a twisted sense of duty. I know my Vayru took no pleasure in what he’s been made to do.”
She’s right. I can barely stomach what I’ve done out of a misplaced desire for revenge over my mother’s death, when the culprit had called me daughter all along.
Tairna squeezes my hand. “Now, please, by the Flames, ask my Vayru to dance before he gives himself a stroke.”
I wipe my tears and manage a weak smile. My chair scrapes against the floor as I rise, though the sound is muffled by the loud music. Tairna was right—Zev is watching me. I almost buckle beneath his fierce gaze. He tracks the moisture on my cheeks, hand flexing at his side, before his stony gaze flits to his mother and morphs into an accusatory glare.
I take a deep breath.
With sure steps, I stride across the hall.
Zev’s eyes never leave me.
I can do this.
He’s only cold and cruel because he’s hurt.
Tides, I hope Tairna is right.
A muscular arm drops over my shoulders, halting my steps.
“Mayah!”
Tumaas spins me around, then locks me against his body with a hand splayed over my lower back. He brings my hand to his shoulder, rocking me in time with the upbeat music.
“Dance with me.” He smiles wide, until his dimple winks at me. I stumble, stepping on his foot, but he only laughs. Tumaas twirls me, my dress flaring out, before spinning me back into his arms.
I peer over his shoulder and find Zev. He’s still at the bar, face pinched and dark. His glass hits the counter with a dull thud, stormy gaze locked on the space where Tumaas’s hand rests on my lower back.
I wish he’d come storming across the floor, rip me from Tumaas’s arms, and claim me.
But he doesn’t.
Then, Tumaas spins me again, whirling me around the dance floor, and I lose sight of him. Tumaas dips his head, his lips close to my ear as he asks, “Are you all right?”
His touch is familiar, but I tense. Not because it’s unwelcome—but because someone else is watching.
“It’s just a lot to take in.”
Tumaas hums, twirling me away, then pulling me back. I try to mimic the carefree sway of the others, but my limbs feel too stiff, too heavy—like I wasn’t made for this kind of joy. I stumble again, and he chuckles. “Sura mentioned you wanted to dance but were nervous. You’re doing great.”
My brow furrows. Scheming Sura. The years have passed, but here she is, still hoping I’ll end up with her brother.
Apparently, even my marriage isn’t going to stop her.
When the song ends, I twist in Tumaas’s arms, searching.
But he’s gone.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
MY BOOTS THUD AGAINST the floor as I careen around the narrow corner, torchlight flickering in my tailwind. The door announces my tardiness with a loud creak. Four pairs of eyes swing to me.
I’m late for another council meeting—except instead of ice walls and icy glares, I’m met with Tairna’s dimly lit office and her warm smile. Huddled around her large table are Zev and her advisers, Rycken and Lyzza.
“Mayah,” Tairna greets, her eyes crinkling. “Another late shift at the infirmary?”
“Yeah.” I force a laugh. “Tumaas needs to keep a better eye on wayward children in the forge.”
There are two open chairs: one by Rycken, a quiet but pleasant man in his forties, and one by Zev. I bite my lip and head toward the seat by Rycken, but Zev yanks out the one beside him with a low grunt.
My steps falter. Biting my lip, I change my trajectory midway and settle in beside my husband. He doesn’t spare me another glance.
“The Volcans arrive this week,” Tairna continues. “We need to be ready to attack.”
“We—Arbinj has a base near the coast,” Zev rumbles, pointing to the worn map unfurled across the desk. “There are at least a thousand men stationed. Will the Volcans have enough soldiers?”
Lantern light glints off his thick iron cuff, the metal scraping against the table. I glance at my own wrists. Tairna removed my cuffs days ago, and I’ve been healing in the infirmary ever since, alternating shifts with one other healer and two nonwielding medics. But despite being Tairna’s son, the Dark Commander wasn’t given the same grace.
I absently drag my thumb over my bare ring finger. Since that night at the dance, I’ve spoken to Zev only a handful of times—always during meetings with Tairna. The few times I’ve seen him outside of that, it’s somehow always when Tumaas has pulled me into a giant bearhug. Zev disappears quickly after that.
I sleep alone and wake alone—on the nights Zev does spend in our room, he folds himself onto the small sofa after I’ve already fallen asleep. I only know he’s been there by the neatly folded blanket and lingering smoke-and-pine scent.
Something sharp and desperate and anguished claws at my ribs, in the space where my heart used to be. But I have no one to blame but myself for this gaping hole in my chest.
“And this base?” Tairna asks, jolting me from my thoughts. She points to another spot on the map, further inland.
Zev scratches his stubbled jaw. “Five hundred men.” He frowns. “No. Less after the last Rebellion attack. Four hundred.”
Tairna stares at him, then glances at her advisers. Rycken shrugs one broad shoulder while Lyzza shakes her head, chocolate-brown curls fluttering.
“We didn’t attack that base,” Tairna says, a deep crease etched between her brows.
A beat passes in utter silence.
“That can’t be,” Zev says, scowling. “There were at least three attacks on Arbinji bases within the last month. Armored nonwielders. It looked like Rebellion…” He trails off, his sharp eyes cutting sideways to me.
My stomach drops.
His knuckles flare white. Tension brackets his jaw, and he turns away so quickly that his neck cracks.
Tairna doesn’t seem to understand my treachery as quickly.
I hesitate, licking my lips. “My father staged those attacks. To draw Zev away from the palace. So that I could…” I struggle to find the words, shrinking under Rycken and Lyzza’s shrewd appraisal.
Understanding slowly dawns on Tairna’s face. Zev must have told her everything.
What I did. What I was planning to do.
“That’s in the past,” she says, her voice firm. “We’re all on the same side now.” Her stern gaze travels around the table but settles longest on her son.
She rustles the map, clearing her throat loudly, but that doesn’t ease the heavy tension blanketing the room.
“Yes, the Volcans will have enough soldiers,” she continues, dark eyes leveled on Zev. “I’ll send a message to my men in both palaces. They’ll be ready.”
Zev doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move, doesn’t even take a breath. He just keeps staring at the map, eyes cold and blank.
“That’s all for today,” Tairna says softly, concerned gaze fixed on the stormy man beside me.
Everyone rises, chairs scraping against the quiet, but she rests her hand on Zev’s shoulder. “Stay a moment.”
I linger, weight shifting between my feet, hands wringing together as Rycken and Lyzza file out of the room with murmured goodbyes. Tairna gives me another warm smile, but this time, it’s a dismissal.
The threadbare sheets scratch against my legs as I nestle beneath the covers. Sura helped me scrounge clothing from around the camp, including two indecently short nightgowns. And if I alternate wearing them every night in the hopes that Zev might see me, well, that’s no one’s business but my own.
It’s been fruitless so far—he hasn’t entered the room while I’ve been here. Not while I’m awake, anyway. Sometimes, I swear the ghost of his familiar footsteps echoes in the corridor, but there’s never anyone there when I check.
My eyes slowly flutter closed. After the council meeting, I helped Tumaas in the forge to pass the time, coating arrowheads with melted iron, the memory of Zev’s power coursing through me dominating my thoughts. If Tumaas noticed I was distracted, that my mind was steeping in regret and longing, he didn’t comment on it.
Now, the muscles in my arms and shoulders ache with every movement. My poor baby healer. Can’t handle a bit of soreness? His deep voice echoes in my heart for only seconds, but it’s enough for bitter grief to constrict my throat. I picture his stony face when he was reminded of my betrayal in the council meeting today—he couldn’t even bear to look at me. Hot tears slip down my cheeks. I let them.
I did this. I deserve this. Eyes clenched shut, still weeping softly, I pray for sleep to find me, even though I know his handsome, wrathful face will haunt my dreams.
The sky rumbles outside.
My eyes snap open.
Thunder echoes again, and my heartbeat ratchets up.
It must be a natural storm—Zev still wears his iron cuffs, and there are no other stormwielders in this camp.
A heavy weight bears down on my lungs. The room shrinks around me. I yank the covers over my head as the thunder grows louder. Angrier.
Like it’s here for me.
One more room-shaking thunderclap, and I bolt from the bed.
Zev.
He’s my first thought, the first comfort I seek, even now. Even if he hates me. I fling open the door, stumbling into the hallway.
Sura stands in her open doorway, already waiting for me. I hesitate for only a second before darting inside, scurrying to her bed. The mattress dips, and she settles beside me, her soft hand rubbing my back. A flash of lightning illuminates the concern in her bright blue eyes.
“You’re safe,” she whispers. “Mayah, you’re safe. The storm can’t harm you in here. Neither can your father.” Her forehead is cool when she presses it against mine, and it almost makes me forget the thunder raging on the other side of the wall. I’d told her what my father did on my second night here—the truth about my mother’s murder. Her fury had rivaled my own.
Another bright flash of lightning, and I clench my eyes shut, trying to block out the suffocating terror clawing at my lungs. My hand finds Sura’s beneath the covers, squeezing until I’m certain I’m hurting her, but she doesn’t complain.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
A loud pounding on the door has us both jumping.
“Are you expecting someone?” I whisper.
She shakes her head. Her dark silhouette crosses the room and opens the door.
She freezes.
“Here to finish the job?” Sura snarls.
A beat.
Then, “Is Mayah with you?” a deep, gravelly voice asks.
The voice I hear in my dreams. His voice.
Sura leans against the door frame, blocking the view inside. She’s silent, casually examining her nails for what feels like minutes.
“Yes,” she says at last. Her voice is clipped, cold. “Anything else?”
He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t leave either.
“You can go now,” Sura hisses. “Terrorize someone else.”
The mattress squeaks as I rise, the floor cool beneath my feet. “It’s all right, Sura,” I murmur, placing a hand on her shoulder. She casts an icy glare at Zev before shoving off the door frame and stomping inside.
Zev’s jaw is clenched tight, but I don’t miss the way his attention lingers on the bare skin of my thighs, even as anger dances in his molten gaze.
He doesn’t ask. I’m not sure why I’m compelled to explain.
“I came here because of the storm. I didn’t think you’d notice.” Or care. I can’t help the bitterness that seeps into my voice.
His lips press into a grim line. “It’s just the two of you?”
I debate saying no to torture him.
Make him wonder.
Make him ache the way I’ve been aching.
But I can’t think past the smoldering heat in his eyes. “Yes.”
He grunts, then strides down the corridor without another word, disappearing into our room.
The door slams shut louder than I intend. Sura is already tucked into bed. I join her beneath the covers, and for a while, neither of us says a word. We just exist in familiar silence, as the storm rages around us, her comforting hand never straying from my back.
It’s only when the thunder dies down that she speaks.
Her words shred another piece of my soul.
“I still see him in my dreams,” she whispers. Her eyes are glazed, like she’s not entirely here with me. “The smell of smoke. Burning flesh. But it’s wrong. Metallic. Worse. I didn’t think we’d make it, Mayah. I hadn’t eaten in days—food stores were low. Everything was given to the wielders. My ankle was broken. Tumaas refused to leave me.” Her voice splinters. “I begged him until my throat was raw. Until I had no voice left. My lips kept moving, pleading, even though no sound was coming out.” Her voice drops even lower, a lone tear sliding sideways down her cheek onto the pillow. “He wouldn’t have been able to hear me over the thunder and rain, anyway.
“We waited for death, lying motionless in the dirt. For hours. I was so fucking angry I was going to die hungry.” She takes a shaky breath. “He was covered from head to toe in armor.” I know which he she means. “A vengeful monster. He’d raise his hand, and lightning would follow. If a waterwielder tried to attack him—they’d shake uncontrollably, unnaturally, then fall to the ground.
“I don’t know how long we lay there. Waiting. Just waiting. Even after he left, after our camp was leveled, we didn’t dare move. By then, the smell of my own piss mingled with death. Tumaas’s heavy arm over my back was the only thing keeping me sane. Keeping me grounded. Eventually, Tumaas stood. There were three other survivors, nonwielders who’d played dead, too. No wielders—they hadn’t been cowardly like us. He killed them all.
“Tumaas carried me. We walked and walked and walked, but he never faltered, Mayah, not once. I can’t remember how many days we just existed. Numb. Broken.” She swallows hard, hand fisting the blanket. “And then Tairna and the rebels found us.”
Between the two of us, the pillow is soaked with tears. I wrap Sura in my arms, folding her into myself as she sobs. My sweet, carefree Sura, harboring so much pain, yet somehow still finding the strength to shine brightly for others.
“I’m so sorry, Sura.” Sharp pain lances through my heart again and again. “I’m so sorry. And to see him again now…”
She wipes away a lingering tear from her cheek. “The nightmares don’t come as often anymore. But when I heard you’d married him, it was a terror like I’d never known. It was worse than that night knowing that monster had you. That you were forced into it.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I knew there was no way you’d choose him.”
It’s a question wrapped in hope and accusation and betrayal.
It cuts at my heart. But I can’t lie to her.
“My father intended for me to marry his brother Faramir,” I start, twisting the blanket between my fingers. “Our plan was to poison everyone at the Equinox Festival. But … it was Zev that came to retrieve me from Tundrayn.” Sura flinches when I say his name. “Our carriage was attacked by rebels. He—he thought I was involved. That was the first time I truly saw the Dark Commander. He was violent and angry and lethal. He terrified me. But more than that … he enraged me. I hated him and what he represented. I blamed him for my mother’s death. For your death. For the death of every Tundrayni.” Sura’s eyes are riveted to me, but I can’t bring myself to meet them. “But … as we traveled together, it became harder to hate him. I began to see the man, not the Dark Commander.
“And … I didn’t want to admit it, but that man was good. He was hurting, just like I was. He kept me safe. He comforted me during storms and didn’t humiliate me for it. And he protected me when any other man would’ve…” I swallow hard.
The words don’t want to pass my lips. I force myself to meet my best friend’s gaze and utter them anyway, stilted and hesitant. “H-he told me about the attack on your battalion. What he did. I thought he’d killed you and Tumaas. And still, I…”
The look of betrayal in Sura’s anguished blue eyes nearly silences me, but I force myself to keep going. “Nothing can excuse what he did, Sura, nothing. Tides drown me if I lie, I would do anything to save you from what you endured.”
“But?”
I’m tempted to fling myself over the edge in her voice.
“He’d just watched his best friend—his only friend—die a painful death after hours of suffering. It doesn’t excuse what he did, but he was hurting. He’d just lost the person closest to him, after already losing his mother.”
The air grows thick around us.
Sura doesn’t respond.
“Say something,” I plead, squeezing her hand.
“You knew how many Tundraynis died at his hand over the years.”
I dip my chin in a hesitant nod.
“And—and you believed he killed us. Me.” A statement, not a question.
I nod again.
Disbelief laces Sura’s voice when she says, almost to herself, “And still, you … care for him?”
I do. Tides help me, I do.
Tears stream down my face as I nod for the final time.
Sura is silent for several minutes.
It stretches between us for an eternity.
“Oh, Mayah-bear,” she finally whispers. “It’s all right.”
The force of the sob that wrenches from my throat shakes her narrow bed. Sura holds me as shuddering cries rack my body, cool relief mingled with cutting pain.
“If you ‘care’ for him,” she asks when my tears subside, “why are you in my bed?”
I shake my head. “He discovered the Equinox plan before I could tell him,” I whisper, my voice ragged. “Then he … caught me with Daak.”
A shuddering breath.
One more confession.
“And then … he killed Daak.”
Sura gasps, eyes wide.
“Tides drown you, Mayah. He killed Daak? And even still?”
“Even still,” I repeat, covering my face with my hands. “I—I attacked him after it happened. I was so distraught. I wasn’t thinking clearly. That’s when he learned about my waterwielding. He took me captive. I was certain he meant to kill me.” I swallow hard. “His men attacked me. They were going to … He killed them all for me. I ran. Sorka’s camp was nearby, and they captured him.” Fresh tears drip down my cheeks. “They beat him for days. I couldn’t bear the sight of him hurt. I think—I think that’s when I knew for sure. How I felt about him.” My voice drops lower, as if that might hide my shame. “Daak’s death gutted me, Sura. But now, the pain of hurting Zev, betraying him, guts me more,” I whisper.
I am ashamed. I am wretched. I am a monster.
But it’s a truth I can no longer deny.
“Wow,” Sura whispers. “I just—wow.”
“It doesn’t matter. Sometimes I think he still cares, but then he’ll make it clear he hates me. How can he not? After everything I’ve done.”
“Hates you?” Sura snorts. “The man is smitten with you. I know when you’ve entered a room just from the change in his posture.” She sighs dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to stop telling Tumaas to hug you when he’s around.”
