Текст книги "Between Tides & Thunder"

Автор книги: Lena Kazak

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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

MY HEART DROPS. MY knees nearly buckle.

He’s alive. He’s alive.

Bleeding scrapes and gashes line his face and arms, but besides that, he appears uninjured. A large sword dangles from his hand, glinting red with blood.

Zev’s pounding footsteps draw the attention of the remaining Arbinji soldiers. Their mouths part.

“Commander!” one of them shouts. “It’s the Comm—” A thick root tunnels through his abdomen, emerging on the other side covered in dark, thick blood. His knees squelch as they collide with the damp earth.

Zev doesn’t spare a glance for the dead man. His eyes are fixed on me. Five more strides, and I can touch him. I can tell him how I’ve agonized about whether he still lived.

Tumaas beats me to it. “Thanks for not dying,” he says to Zev. He jerks his head toward me. “She’s been driving herself—and us—insane.”

Zev’s eyes blaze with the force of a tempest as he looks at me. My voice catches in my throat.

“We need to find Sura,” Tumaas says, glancing between us.

“She’s in the children’s tent,” Zev replies, still looking me over. “There’s a safe room dug beneath the floor.”

“You saw her?” I ask.

“Yeah. I went there first. I thought you might—” He cuts off abruptly, gesturing impatiently at Tumaas. “Go check on her and the kids. They were fine when I left, but that could’ve changed. Stay with them.”

Tumaas looks poised to argue, Zev’s commands grating at him. But in the end, all he says is, “Tides protect you.” I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or Zev. A single nod, and then he and Mona dart off.

I raise my glowing palms to Zev’s face, but he clasps them, bringing them down to my sides.

“Save your reserves,” he says gruffly. “You’ll need them.” Rough hands cradle my face, tilting my chin to inspect the shallow cuts marring my face.

“I’m fine,” I whisper. “It’s—it’s Arbinj.”

He nods, his expression grave. “They’re here to rescue me.”

Ice frosts my veins.

“Do—do you want to be rescued?”

His gaze cuts away. “Even if I return with them, they won’t let anyone here live.” His jaw clenches. “So, no. I don’t want to be rescued.”

I don’t know how long we run through the camp, stopping and helping where we can. Digging people out from rubble, killing Arbinji soldiers along the way.

My clothing is drenched with more foreign blood than rainwater by the time we reach the kitchens. There are more rebels here, wielders scrounging for whatever they can find to maintain their reserves. Zev cuts through the panic, his massive body easily weaving through the crowd. He returns with two loaves of bread and three apples and thrusts them at me.

“Eat.”

Crumbs scatter across the muddy floor as I tear a loaf in half and hand it to him, along with two apples.

We eat quickly, then emerge back into the frenzy.

So much pain. So much death.

We’ve rounded a corner when a wave of water crashes into us, sending me tumbling into Zev. He catches me, hands clutching my hips. I’ve scarcely regained my bearings when another wave swirls up to my thighs.

And freezes.

My head shoots up.

Three warriors stand before us, clad in blue and white.

Tundraynis.

Hatred twists their expressions as they launch ice spears at us. I barely manage to raise a wall of ice in time. Quickly, I melt the ice around our legs, dropping into a defensive stance.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” I shout, hands raised in surrender.

Another ice spear hurtles toward me, barely deflected in time.

“Traitor!” one of the waterwielders shouts back, launching another spear. “Arbinji whore!” shouts another.

The sky booms.

Zev raises a hand.

Lightning kills them both.

I flinch. My eyes find the third warrior. Her eyes are deep blue like Sura’s.

My hand hesitates. Just for a breath. But it’s enough time for guilt to wedge itself deep.

I kill her anyway.

Tundrayn is here, too.

And it’s not to rescue me.

Not too far from where we killed the waterwielders, the rebels have organized a makeshift command center, guarded by wielders and armed nonwielders—it’s where we find Tairna, standing before the assembled crowd. She appears relatively unharmed. Some of the tension melts from Zev’s shoulders.

Tairna’s voice is steady as she gives orders. One team is assigned to dig out survivors from leveled buildings and evacuate those in the ones still standing. Another team to man the east side of the camp, and a third defending the west side.

“One more team to patrol the perimeter,” Zev calls. Heads swivel in our direction. “I’ll lead.”

Tairna freezes, eyes wide. Then, she’s shouldering her way through the crowd, dark tunic fluttering. She knocks into Zev with the force of a maelstrom, twining her arms around him. For several heartbeats, she doesn’t move.

Then, she turns to me. I don’t know what I expect—a nod, maybe, or one of her warm smiles. But her arms wrap around me like I belong to her, too. My body is stiff for only a second before I melt into her embrace.

She cradles my face, eyes glistening with tears, before tugging Zev into the hug along with her. The sight of her tears, for me, elicits an unfamiliar warmth. One minute is all she allows us, one minute wrapped in each other’s arms. For that brief moment, I pretend this is real.

That we’re a family.

Then she lets go—draws back and steels herself, a commander in her own right.

“Send a missive to the Volcans and the other rebel camps. Tell them to send as many men as they can spare,” Zev says.

“I already did. I don’t know how long it will take, though. We need to hold them off until then.”

“We will.” Zev is sure. Solid. “I’ll round up the men for the perimeter.” He walks away. I follow him.

“Mayah”—Tairna grabs my hand—“we can’t risk anything happening to you. When the dust settles, you need to lead.”

I glance down at her hand, laced with mine. I squeeze it gently.

“I go with Zev.”

Tairna looks distressed. She turns to her son with anguished eyes. “Zev. She cannot go with you.”

Zev doesn’t answer immediately. Just studies my face. Then, he takes my hand from hers and laces his long fingers through mine. “There’s no stopping her, Mother. I’ll protect her. Or I’ll die.”

A shuddering sob wrenches from Tairna’s chest when Zev calls her mother. She embraces us once more. Then, without another word, she returns to the front of the room.

“I’ll have to summon lightning,” Zev says quietly as we exit the command center.

“I know. I’m ready.”

Zev rounds up his team, the largest of the four, men and women with solemn faces staring at him. Rain pelts our faces, turning the ground into muck beneath my bare feet.

“Many of you have faced me in battle,” Zev says, his voice hard. “Tonight, I fight beside you. If you can’t stomach that, then leave. Now.”

No one moves.

“Good. This woman”—he points to me—“is your future. Protecting her is everyone’s top priority. Understood?” I shoot him a scathing look but don’t say anything. Now’s not the time to undermine him.

The rebels all nod.

Zev raises a fist.

“Move out.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

THROUGH THE CHAOS, ORDER slowly takes shape. Zev, a storm in motion, barks out commands with practiced authority, dividing the rebels into groups of six. Four teams disperse in different directions, each assigned to sweep for intruders, secure fallen zones, or reinforce collapsing defenses.

We join the eastern patrol, skirting the outer edge of the camp. My eyes dart between trees, over rooftops, around crumbling barricades—searching for anything that doesn’t belong.

As we near the eastern wall, the sounds of battle sharpen—shouts, the clash of steel, the low groan of twisting roots. A group of earthwielders engages in brutal combat with a handful of rebels. Thick vines writhe from the soil, slamming into stone and limbs alike.

My heart skips when I spot a flash of Tumaas’s dark braids, whipping like cords as he ducks low, slicing through a vine with his blade. Beside him, Mona crouches behind the remains of a shattered wall, eyes narrowed in focus.

A sharp twang.

An arrow whistles through the air and strikes one of the earthwielders square in the chest. He topples backward with a grunt, his roots withering mid-attack.

Tides. Mona is a terrifyingly good shot.

Zev and I join them.

Tumaas reads the frantic question on my face. “Sura’s fine. Not a scratch on her. Sent us back out to be useful. She said she’d disown me if I ‘shame’ her.”

I loose a breath I’d been holding since the building fell on me.

An arrow whizzes between us, narrowly missing our faces.

“Enough chatter!” Zev snaps at us, his sword already embedded in the shooter’s chest.

We fall into formation.

Water arcs through the air. Freezing. Choking. Killing.

The clang of swords, the waning groans of the dying.

Some of our men die, too, but every time I cast out my panicked gaze, I find Zev, Tumaas, and Mona. Still standing. Still fighting.

At least twenty corpses litter the ground when we’re done.

My reserves are perilously low. Zev and I share another chunk of bread while Tumaas and Mona catch their breath.

“Here,” Zev says, tossing half a loaf at Tumaas. He scrambles to catch it in time, eyeing Zev with suspicion. Mona’s eyes are wide as she stares at the bread.

If I weren’t already hopelessly in love with Zev, I certainly am now.

“Ready?” Tumaas asks, brushing crumbs from his palms after they finish eating. “We should keep—”

Everything happens so fast.

The ground stretches open behind Tumaas, its maw wide, and a man leaps out, sword in hand and the promise of death in his eyes.

He hauls his arm back.

My mouth opens in a scream.

I summon water into the air, but he’s too fast.

His sword glints in the moonlight—

–and Zev shoves Tumaas to the ground. The sword slices through his side, bright blood weeping from the gash.

Zev’s arm draws back, sword glinting like lightning, and spears it through the earthwielder’s stomach. Blood splatters through the air, hot droplets spraying my face.

The sword withdraws with a sickening squelch. The man falls to the ground.

“Zev!” My feet slap against the muddy earth, hands already glowing.

“It’s just a scratch,” he grunts, clutching his side. “Save your—”

“Shut up,” I hiss. I force him to the ground, batting his hands away before pressing my palms against his bloody wound. It only takes a few minutes until his skin is seamless.

Not even a scar left behind. Not this time.

He doesn’t move, and I take advantage, sending a rushing pulse of power through the rest of him.

Zev catches on, grabbing my wrists and fixing me with a scathing glare. I can’t decipher the look on his face—does he want to pull me into his arms or push me away?

He does neither. Instead, he retrieves more bread from his cloak and presses a soggy chunk into my mouth. I chew mechanically, caught in the trance of his gaze. I don’t even remember to swallow until he taps my throat, his lips twitching.

Mona strides around the area, crossbow in hand, while Tumaas hovers over us, narrowed eyes leveled on Zev. He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut.

“You haven’t eaten,” I say to Zev. I ghost my fingers over his side, reassuring my racing heart that he’s not at risk of bleeding out.

“That was the last of the food,” he murmurs.

Tumaas’s face darkens. “Mona and I can double back to the kitchens,” he says quietly. “We’ll get more food and come back.”

Zev shakes his head. “Bring the food to Sura. The children must be hungry. We’ll head to the kitchens ourselves.”

Tumaas bristles, crossing his arms. “You better not be making excuses to get rid of us. We can hold our own. I could’ve handled that tidesdamned earthwielder.”

Zev rises to his feet, brushing off his trousers. “We’d all feel better knowing the children are well guarded. Not by you. Your technique needs work.” He jerks his head toward Mona. “By her. Now go.”

Tumaas looks ready to argue, face red, but Mona just nods and drags him away.

Zev and I walk side by side through the outskirts of the forest, our footsteps soft against the rain-dampened earth. The trees thin here, giving way to scorched patches of grass. The air smells of wet ash and mud.

I keep my gaze riveted to the trees, forcing myself not to look at the bodies scattered along our path—some half-buried in the earth, others with limbs twisted at unnatural angles. My stomach churns.

“You saved Tumaas.” I glance sideways at Zev. His jaw is tight. The silence between us stretches, taut as a pulled bowstring, until it feels like it might snap.

Finally, his voice cuts through the air, low and even. “We’re on the same side.” His hands clench into fists. “And he’s your—” Zev breaks off, exhaling through his nose. “I wasn’t going to let him die.”

I search his face for any indication of emotion—anger, jealousy, regret—but it’s a mask of stone. Only the rigid set of his shoulders gives him away. “Thank—”

The ground shudders.

A deep, guttural rumble tears through the earth.

The soil splits open. Dozens of roots—thick, twisted, alive—burst through the cracks, writhing like serpents.

Heading straight for me.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

THICK BRANCHES WIND AROUND my wrists and ankles, the rough bark digging into my skin, until I’m dangling in the air. Zev lunges toward me, sword aimed for the thickest root, but a large mound of packed earth erupts from the ground and slams into his chest, sending him staggering backward.

“Easy now, brother. Don’t piss me off.” Faramir’s menacing chuckle slices through the darkness. “I’ll cut her clean in two. Then we can both have a piece.”

“Let. Her. Go.” Zev’s snarl vibrates with rage.

Faramir rests a finger on his cheek, pretending to consider it.

“No,” he says with a malicious grin.

The sky rumbles overhead.

Faramir grins, circling Zev. “Father would’ve done anything to save you, brother. He thought the Tundrayni pigs captured you. It would’ve crushed him to learn his favorite son was actually a traitor.” He stills, face contorting into a grim smile. “Luckily, he’ll never know.”

“What do you mean?” Zev growls, knuckles white on his sword.

The twisted smile on Faramir’s lips sends a rush of revulsion through me. “I killed him, of course. You should’ve believed me that night, brother. Did you know he was planning to crown you? He wanted you and your bitch to rule.”

Zev lunges toward Faramir.

The roots binding my hands yank upwards, while the ones around my ankles tighten. Pressure mounts at my joints, my limbs straining against the roots.

I try to muffle my pained gasp, but Zev hears it anyway and whirls, mere feet away from impaling his brother. Faramir hadn’t even flinched in the face of Zev’s sword.

Fear rages in Zev’s eyes, and it stokes the flames of my fury.

“Want to know how I did it?” Faramir sounds positively gleeful. “You two made it so easy. Mayah. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Thank you for all the toxinnia. And brother, you left with your bitch so quickly. Didn’t even make sure it was all disposed properly.”

A bolt of lightning strikes, but Faramir seems to expect it. Mounds of earth tear from the ground and form a barrier over his head, absorbing the electricity. His face transforms into a vicious snarl, and the roots stretch me farther. Hot blood drips down my wrists from the deep wounds gouged into my skin by sharp thorns.

Another vicious crack of lightning.

My heart races. Easy, Mayah. Relax. You can do this.

I focus on Zev. It’s him. It’s him. Not my father. It’s Zev. Protecting me.

The bite of wooden antlers against my palm.

The flash of lightning, illuminating my shaking knees.

Breathe, Mayah. Breathe.

Spine rigid, I stare directly into Faramir’s hate-filled eyes.

“You’ve been such a wonderful addition to our family, Mayah,” he purrs. “Finally. My brother has a weakness.”

The thunder rumbles louder. So does the pounding in my ears.

“I am not a weakness,” I grit through the pain shearing through my wrists and ankles. “Or a bitch. I am a fucking force of nature.”

My hands form tight fists over my head.

Water rises from the ground in glimmering drops.

Faramir’s mouth drops, eyes wide. “Wh—that’s not possible!”

“You wanted a waterwielder. Here I am.”

Water swirls into a dense orb over his head, swallowing his garbled screams and flooding his lungs.

Zev lunges. His sword flashes—a clean arc of steel.

Faramir’s head drops one way. His body sways the other.

His corpse hasn’t even hit the ground yet, but Zev’s already moving. In a blur, he’s before me, slicing through the roots holding me captive.

When I fall, he’s ready for me. We sink to the ground. I wince as Zev gingerly unwraps the thorny roots from my wrists.

“Are you all right?” His voice is cold, hollow eyes fixed on his brother’s corpse, yet his hands are gentle as they cup my face.

“Yeah,” I rasp, glancing at Faramir’s severed head. “Are you?”

He nods jerkily. “Come on. The kitchens.”

The forest breathes around us, rustling leaves and trilling insects. We’ve walked nearly half the perimeter of the camp, within viewing range of the border through the cover of trees. With my reserves running low, Zev reasoned it’d be safer to cut through the forest, and only descend into the camp’s chaos when we’re closer.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask softly. “He … he was still your brother.”

A shadow darkens his face. “I had no love for him.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“It’s all I can give right now.”

“You—”

He freezes beside me, head snapping to the right.

“What?” I ask, following his gaze. There’s nothing but a thick copse of trees. His answer is the unsheathing of his sword.

“Let me handle this,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“What—”

“They’re coming closer,” he grits out, angling himself in front of me.

I unsheathe the sword Tumaas gave me.

A low rustling. A stuttered heartbeat.

And then four men emerge wearing snarls and blue furs.

Zev doesn’t hesitate.

He flies through the clearing, sword in hand. Two men hit the floor, blood seeping from gaping wounds in their necks.

But the other two are fast. Well-trained. Perhaps by Daak.

An ice spear hurtles toward Zev, barely dodged in time. Still, it grazes his arm, leaving a thin stream of blood. The other warrior rounds on me, water whip flinging toward my legs. I freeze it, then send it flying back. It melts before it reaches him.

Zev’s back is turned, fighting the other waterwielder.

The one fighting me flicks his blue gaze between us.

Assessing. Deciding.

He chooses Zev. I grit my teeth. He chose wrong.

Water rises from the ground, thin ribbons, frozen into serrated shards, at least thirty of them.

All aimed at Zev’s back.

No. No.

I dart across the clearing, pumping my legs faster than they’ve ever moved, arm raised to command the water. I manage to slow their trajectory, melting a few of the shards, but the waterwielder doubles down.

A sickening squelch. Zev kills his opponent.

He turns.

I fling myself in front of him, blunting some shards, melting others. But there are too many, too fast. Two serrated shards pierce my flesh, one embedding in my shoulder, the other in my thigh. A strangled cry tears from my mouth, and I crash backward into Zev.

He catches me. He always catches me.

Lightning crashes down with a fearsome roar—I’m not sure if the sound is thunder or if it’s Zev. The metallic stench of burned flesh invades my nostrils. The wielder’s unrecognizable body falls to the ground.

Zev whirls me around. “Fucking Skies, Mayah,” he growls, wild eyes scanning my injuries. “I told you to let me handle it.” I’ve grown accustomed to him being angry with me, but there’s a desperate sense of fear undercutting it now.

“You were about to be impaled,” I mutter, breaths shallow. “I couldn’t just watch.”

He’s panting hard. I can almost taste his rage in the air. “If something happened to you, then—”

“Then what?” I whisper, hope fluttering in my chest, even as my wounds bleed. “If something happened to me, then what?”

He cradles my face, pressing his forehead to mine.

“I—”

Zev freezes, the words dying on his lips.

My brows furrow, mouth poised to ask him what’s wrong.

Then—“You’ve always been a disappointment, Daughter.”

My blood freezes in my veins.

“But I never expected this from you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY

HIS WORDS PUNCH THE air from my lungs. Father stands before us, moonlight casting sinister shadows across his face.

He looks every bit the monster I know him to be.

“Why are you here?” I snarl, teeth bared. “To kill me?”

Pain sears through my shoulder and thigh, Zev’s arm snaked protectively around my waist.

For a long moment, Father regards me, his expression unreadable. “No.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “To take you home.”

Zev’s grip tightens around me, a ripple coursing through him.

“You’re lying,” I hiss. “The warriors are trying to kill me.”

“Hmm,” he muses, as if we’re discussing dinner. “Perhaps they can’t forgive what you did at the camp.” Father raises a hand skyward. Thunder rumbles. “Perhaps … I can’t either.”

Tides freeze the blood in his veins.

“I don’t want your forgiveness,” I spit, taking a wobbling step forward, gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulder and thigh. “You should be begging for mine.”

“For what exactly?” he asks, his voice cold as ice.

Zev steps in front of me, but I push against his back.

“No.” Hot, angry tears blur my vision. “I do this alone.”

Zev’s jaw clenches tight, but he reluctantly moves aside.

I open my mouth—

–and Father attacks.

A thick stream of water tunnels through the air toward my chest.

But I’m ready.

A wave of my hand. It splashes to the ground.

"Tell me, my ungrateful daughter,” Father bites out. “What are your grievances?”

“You murdered my mother!” I shoot an ice spear at his head, steeling myself against the burn in my thigh. He avoids it easily. Blood seeps down my leg. “You lied about it for years! Manipulated me into becoming your weapon!” Water flows over his legs and freezes. A serrated shard barrels toward his neck.

All melted away.

“You tortured me with countless fucking storms, left me alone to suffer through them!”

Cold rage crashes against my ribs, even as my leg threatens to buckle. An ice spear cuts a sharp line across Father’s cheek, sending satisfaction blooming in my chest. But my attacks are coming slower, consuming more energy. I don’t have much left in me.

“You’re weak,” Father snarls. “You’ve always been weak. A tidescursed disappointment. Always wanting more. Embarrassing me in council meetings with your pathetic pleas for commons. So much like your mother. I gave you everything.” I barely avoid the ice spear careening toward my head.

“You gave me NOTHING!” I scream, the words tearing from my raw throat.

Off to the side, Zev stands ready—every line of him coiled, sword drawn—but he doesn’t move. Thunder roars in the sky, but I don’t know if it’s my husband or my father.

“I gave you Daak,” Father says, his voice a lethal purr.

The air rushes from my lungs.

“You think I wasn’t aware of what was happening in my own palace?” he continues. “I only allowed it because Daak swore to keep your virtue intact.”

Bile scorches the back of my throat.

“You’re lying,” I hiss. Fatigue weights my limbs. It’s a struggle to remain upright.

He shrugs. “Believe what you will. I’ve grown bored, Daughter. The warriors advised me not to come. That it was too dangerous—but I wanted to see for myself. See my sniveling traitor of an heir one last time. Goodbye, Mayah.”

Lightning cracks through the air.

Another blinding bolt. Then another. They flash violently through the night, one after the other.

My heart pummels my ribs.

My lungs feel tight. It was him. His storm that murdered Mama.

Mama—

No. No. I force myself to bear down on the panic threatening to suffocate me. Mama’s murderer stands before me.

Enough talking.

I summon water from the damp earth, converging it into a thin ribbon. My shoulder screams, every movement jostling the ice shard that’s slowly melting into a pink stream down my chest.

But I ignore it, forcing the water into my father’s nostrils. He coughs, easily wielding it out, but that was only a distraction.

I have an ice spear ready to impale him.

It hurtles through the air, straight toward his chest.

It stops, midair. Mere inches stand between me and my revenge.

The ice spear comes careening back.

I bend my knees. My arms rise in the air—one last push. I can do this. I’ll wield the spear in half, then send both shards hurtling back. He won’t expect it. Mama will finally know peace. And so will I.

Deep breath.

Closer.

Almost.

Just a few more—

A cold breeze reaches me first, like icy fingers sliding over my skin.

At the last second, the spear

veers

right.

I hear the sound before I understand it. A sickening thunk—a wet, horrible sound that doesn’t belong in this world.

And then I see him.

Zev.

The spear is lodged in his chest. Buried deep. Bright, arterial blood bubbles around the edges, slicking the translucent shard with crimson. His body jerks once, then sags.

My screams rip through the air, raw and feral, louder than the wind and the battle and the thunder.

Terror seizes me, clamping its serrated claws around my throat. My heart crashes against my ribs, my lungs shudder uselessly, my vision blurs. Fury boils my blood, rings in my ears, writhes in my belly.

But then—

Something breaks inside me.

Shatters.

Rage floods in to fill the cracks.

A heat like nothing I’ve ever felt blazes through my veins, igniting every inch of me.

He murdered my mother. I won’t let him take Zev from me, too.

The well of my power erupts. White-hot and furious, a blinding light in my mind’s eye. It sears through me, pulsing in waves that scream for destruction, for vengeance, for blood.

It’s not my reserves that fuel me. This is something else entirely. Like all my fury was set aflame, and now it scorches through every nerve. Unstoppable. Hungry.

The earth tilts around me.

I sense everything.

Invisible droplets of water, so small I’ve never even noticed them before, announce themselves, ready to do my bidding.

I flick my hand. Father’s body freezes mid-step, his limbs locking as if I’ve trapped him in ice.

His eyes widen in disbelief, veins pulsing at his temples, lips curling in a silent snarl of confusion and rage. “What—what are you doing?” His words are strangled, forced past teeth clenched with fear.

I can barely believe it myself.

I shouldn’t be able to do this.

Waterwielders can’t control blood—it’s too impure, too corrupted.

Blood is beyond us.

But I can feel it.

It flows beneath his skin, slick and sluggish, sloshing with his terror. It surges in his arteries, his heart hammering to pump it faster.

And I can stop it.

A snarl curves my lips, fueled by a lifetime of being too small, too weak, too afraid.

“I’ve never been enough for you,” I bite out. His body strains, but he can’t move. Can’t speak. “Always lacking. Always failing. Never anything but a tool that you molded into a weapon with your lies. I’m done, Father. I’m fucking done.”

The heat of my rage sharpens my control.

My hand squeezes into a fist.

Father gargles, a wet, choking sound, as his blood turns against him. I freeze it in his veins, forcing it into his heart. His limbs lock in agony, mouth wide in a scream that never makes it past his throat.

With a final pulse of power, he collapses.

The rage evaporates from me like mist burned away by sunlight.

All that remains is cold shock, thrumming inside my hollow chest.

I turn.

I run.

My feet slap against the wet ground as I sprint for Zev.

The ice spear juts from his chest, blood trickling in sluggish pink rivers as it melts. I skid to my knees, hands pressed to his skin, feeling for what I can’t bear to lose.

His heart flutters beneath my palm. Weak. Unsteady.

But alive.

Carefully, so very carefully, I melt the ice spear. The water spills from his body, drawn away from muscle and tissue, leaving behind a gaping hole the size of my palm. I guide the water away from his body, sinking it into the dirt. My hands glow weakly as I press them to his chest, stitching flesh and sealing vessels with trembling precision.

The exit wound is the worst. I work it closed, layer by layer.

When I can no longer see the ground through his chest, I loose half a breath. But there’s no time for relief. I set to work on carefully mending the internal damage. Thank the Tides, the spear missed his heart.

Blood vessels knitted back together, nerve endings regrown, tissue repaired.

But then—

My light sputters.

Flickers.

Dies.

No. No, no, no, no.

I summon it again, but my power doesn’t answer. I’ve burned through my reserves—fighting, freezing, healing.

And we have no food.

Nothing left to replenish me.

Tears slide down my cheeks. I press my hands to his chest again, willing the glow to return, willing something—Tides, Skies, Flames—anything to answer.

Please. Please. Not like this.

Zev’s lashes flutter weakly. He’s pale. He’s so fucking pale.

His eyes crack open, barely a sliver, twin streams of red trickling from his nostrils. He stares at the half-healed hole in his chest, blinking slowly, like even that small act requires an enormous amount of precious energy.

“My reserves are empty,” I whisper. “Stay here. Don’t die. I’ll—I’ll find food—”

I start to rise, but his hand catches mine. It’s barely a touch. Slow. Shaky. Reaching into his cloak, he presses something small into my palm.

An apple.

The same apple I’d given him to eat hours ago, bruised yet untouched.

I choke on a sob as I take it from him.

I press my forehead to his, tears dripping onto his ashen cheeks.

With a shaky breath, I bite into the apple.

Tides, let it be enough.