Текст книги "Between Tides & Thunder"

Автор книги: Lena Kazak

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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

IT’S BEEN FIVE DAYS since the attack.

Five days since I killed my father.

Five days since I wielded blood.

The Volcans and the rebels from the other camps arrived the morning after, though we had regained control by then. Still, the extra hands were immediately put to use, helping clear rubble and dig out survivors.

And help bury the dead.

A handful of buildings remained standing, and the earthwielders also erected additional makeshift structures. Sura was unharmed. She’d planned to spend the night in the childcare tent. When the attack happened, she and the other caregiver shepherded the children into a hollowed-out safe room beneath the thick rug—thoughtfully carved out by an earthwielder early on.

Tairna dispatched missives to both Tundrayn and Arbinj, announcing the deaths of Tormik and Varad and Faramir—declaring me queen of both kingdoms.

We’ve yet to receive a response.

We suffered so many casualties. Even now, I don’t know how many lie dead beneath the fractured buildings. I spent the first two days in the makeshift infirmary, healing the endless line of rebels and sleeping on the floor—there were no empty cots.

And Zev … I only convinced him to remain in the infirmary for an hour, making sure he was completely healed from the ice spear that carved a gaping hole in his chest.

But once he saw the long line of injured people, he wouldn’t stay. I haven’t seen him since—Sura and Tumaas tell me he’s been helping dig through rubble.

So many people have been displaced, that many sleep in large, communal tents, or share rooms in the remaining buildings. Somehow, I was assigned my own room—with Zev, of course—in a nearby building. I suspect Tairna had something to do with that, though I’ve only gone there a handful of times to shower before returning to the infirmary.

With a sigh, I glance around the crowded space where cots are wedged so close together that there’s hardly space to walk between them. It’s late, and the patients are either sleeping or trying to sleep.

Soft footsteps announce a presence outside the door. It creaks open, and Tairna peers through. She manages a warm smile, but it can’t mask the tension etched on her face.

I meet her outside, softly shutting the infirmary door behind me.

“How are you doing, Mayah?” she asks. Her eyes are red, like she’s been crying. “Are you certain you don’t want me to find a heartwielder? If you’re struggling with what happened to Tormik…”

What happened was that I murdered him.

I swallow hard. It’s a strange sense of grief, a feeling of loss for something I never truly had. Not really.

“I’m all right.” My smile is tight. Practiced.

She smiles back, but her eyes tell me she doesn’t believe me. “Have you decided if you prefer to travel to Arbinj first or Tundrayn? We must move quickly to cement your rule.”

I hadn’t thought about it. With the endless line of patients, there hasn’t been any time. And it’s not only my decision.

“Let me talk to Zev first, see what he thinks.”

Tairna opens her mouth, then snaps it shut.

“What?” I ask, bristling.

“Have you spoken to Vayru at all recently?” she asks slowly.

I shake my head.

“He’s leaving,” she tells me quietly. “For Volca.”

She may as well have slapped me.

“When?” I breathe.

“Tomorrow morning. He must be…”

I don’t hear the rest.

My feet slap against the ground as I dart through the quiet camp. Panic grips my heart, cold and rough, clawing up my throat until breathing is a struggle.

He can’t leave. Not after everything. He can’t.

The door to our new room bursts open with a loud crash. Zev stands by the dresser. In his hand is a large satchel, though I don’t know what could possibly be inside. All our belongings are buried beneath rubble.

“It’s true.” My voice is wooden. Flat. “You’re leaving.”

He spares me a quick glance, then turns back to the dresser. “Yes.”

Anger burns in my chest.

“Were you even going to say goodbye?”

He sighs, as if I’m inconveniencing him. “No, Mayah.” His voice is tight. “I wasn’t.”

“How can you just go?” I wrap my arms around myself, as if that might protect me from the pain gripping my heart. “You can’t just leave me here.” Alone.

He shrugs. “You found your place. Your friends. You’ll be safe.”

And not my concern anymore.

“You’re a coward.” My voice cracks, tears pricking my eyes. “You’re afraid.” He just keeps packing, the stubborn man. “I know you love me, Zev.”

His hand stills. He doesn’t look at me when he says, “That doesn’t mean I can be with you.”

Tides drown me. In this lifetime and in any that follow.

My heart splits open, tears slipping down my cheeks.

“I wielded blood for you!” I scream. Hopelessness wraps its cold fingers around my throat. “How can you still think my heart belongs to anyone else?”

He doesn’t look at me. Just ties his bag closed.

Tides, I might faint. I squeeze my arms tighter around myself, bracing against the door.

“We’re married,” I whisper brokenly.

“Right,” he sighs again. Another inconvenience. “I’ll ask Tairna to annul it.” His voice is detached.

He’s really going to leave.

Because he’s afraid. He’s afraid to love me.

“Fine,” I snap, trying to keep my tears out of my voice. “Leave.” I fill my lungs with a deep, shuddering breath. It does nothing to ease the frantic beat of my heart, the suffocating grief gouging my throat. “I-I hate you.”

He freezes, a violent shudder cascading through him.

In a blink, he’s crossed the room, fingers gripping my wrist.

“Say that again.” His voice is low, desperate.

“I hate you?”

A muscle twitches in his jaw.

“Again.”

“I hate you. I hate you so much, I can’t stand—”

He kisses me.

His lips crash into mine with so much force it sends my head slamming into the door. Zev’s hand threads through my hair, gripping tightly, one arm twining around my waist.

He draws back. “Say it again,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I hate you.” It comes out breathy and soft.

Another tremor ripples through his body, and he drags me to an armchair, tugging me into his lap. My legs dangle over the side. He kisses me again, our teeth knocking together. His lips move over mine as if he’s been starved for me, his tongue coaxing my lips open. A loud moan escapes me as we part for air. I’m panting as he grips my jaw, trailing hot kisses down the column of my throat.

“Zev?” I breathe, chest heaving, all the anger kissed out of me. “Not that I mind, but I’m … confused.”

“Do. You. Want. Me. To. Stop?” he asks between kisses that set my pulse ablaze.

“No,” I whimper as his teeth scrape against my collarbone.

Another deep kiss, slow and languid, his tongue stroking mine.

“Then let me savor this, baby.”

Zev kisses me until I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t function. I don’t exist except where he touches me. My lips tingle beneath the faint scratch of his stubble, my hair a knotted mess from his roving hands.

He finally pulls back, tucking me close to his chest. His hands are gentle, yet even still, barely restrained desire thrums beneath his skin.

For the first time since that wretched, wretched night in the tunnels, his face is open. Unguarded. Warmth and tenderness swirl in his gaze. The way he used to look at me before—

My chin quivers. His eyes track the movement, and he brushes a soft kiss to my cheek. “My sweet Mayah,” he breathes. “I’ve been keeping a secret of my own.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

“I’M A TRUTHWIELDER.”

I blink. “What?”

He smiles at me, a real smile, not a feral baring of his teeth or a vicious curve of his lips, but an actual smile laced with affection—the one he used to save just for me.

My heart stutters.

“It’s my secondary ability. Lev and my mother were the only ones who knew. Tairna made sure I didn’t tell anyone.” His smile fades. “I was maybe eight. She had a bruise on her cheek. I asked what happened, and she said she had fallen. The back of my neck prickled so hard, I began scratching it. She asked what was wrong—when I told her, her face went pale.”

Heart– and truthwielders are put to death as soon as they’re discovered.

Even children?

Especially children.

“All those weeks alone with you, Mayah … and you never lied.” His voice is soft, aching. “Not once. Most people lie within minutes of opening their mouths—women, soldiers, advisers.” He lets out a quiet, bitter chuckle, his fingers skimming the line of my jaw.

“But not you. Somehow, you managed not to lie once. My beautiful, clever, magnificent Mayah. And Skies above, I fell in love with you—while I was dragging you to marry my brother.”

His voice breaks, and my heart twists.

“But the Skies favored me for some reason I’ll never understand. I married you. And I knew you didn’t love me. Not yet. But I hoped one day you would. That I’d wake one morning and find you gazing at me with affection in your eyes. With longing. Because you wanted to, not out of a misplaced sense of duty or a need for survival. I hoped you’d fall in love with me.”

A beat of silence.

“And I thought maybe you had.” His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth. “You wanted me. You let me hold you like you craved me, too. You reached for me in the dark, when you were half-asleep because you needed me close.

“But then I returned from the border and found you with him…” The memory splinters his gravelly voice. “My world shattered, Mayah.”

He swallows hard, like he’s forcing jagged glass down his throat.

“I’d been wrong. So horribly, stupidly, hopelessly wrong. When you fell to your knees beside his body—Skies, the way you looked at him. The grief in your eyes. The rage. It gutted me.” He pauses, his breath shallow, eyes glistening. “In that moment, I was ready to annul our marriage and send you back home. You didn’t love me. And I—” His voice thins, fingers tight around my chin. “I had just murdered the man you did. That felt like punishment enough.”

His hand drops from my face.

“But then you turned on me. Attacked me with water.” He laughs, low and bitter. “And just like that, my world shattered again. Twice in the span of minutes.”

The laugh dies in his throat. His next words are soft, almost afraid.

“I thought my truthwielding didn’t work on you. That everything we’d shared—every kiss, every touch, every confession—had been a lie. How else could you have kept so much from me? I kept replaying every moment, searching for cracks. Trying to see how you’d fooled me so skiesdamned thoroughly.”

“That’s why you said you’d never trust me again,” I whisper.

He nods, pressing his forehead to mine. “All those months, not a single lie. Not one. And then just now…” His breath hitches. “When you said you hated me—it didn’t just prickle, Mayah. It felt like someone raked a blade down my spine.”

A broken sob tears free. Zev catches it with a deep kiss, pulling me harder against the solid wall of his chest.

“Tell me another lie, baby,” he whispers against my lips.

“I never want to see you again,” I breathe, raking my fingers through his soft hair. “I want you to leave. I—I don’t love you.”

Harsh tremors ripple through him. And then his mouth crashes into mine, hungry and heartbroken.

When he draws back, his voice is wrecked. “You were telling the truth,” he says hoarsely. “When you said you wanted me. When you said you’d miss me.” A broken chuckle. “When you said you love my broody scowl. The wormbark oil. Everything. You. Love. Me.”

I nod, sobbing freely now. He wipes my tears away with aching care. His thumb brushes my lower lip. His eyes darken, body rigid against mine.

“Every time I close my eyes, Mayah, I see you on your knees—beside him. My Mayah. My wife.”

“Are you still mad?” I breathe into the heated air between us.

“Yeah, baby. I’m still mad.” His fingers fist in my hair, yanking my head back. “But I’m going to get it all out now. Every last bit. And then we’ll never speak of it again.” Anger flashes in his eyes, but there’s also a heady heat swirling in his gray gaze. His fingers tighten in my hair almost to the point of pain. “I gave you all of me, Mayah. I loved—love—you. My life’s been split down the middle: before you and after you. Before you, I was merely existing. Going through the motions. Alone. A fucking shell. But after you?” He looses a rueful chuckle. “After you, there’s only you. Since our journey, it’s only ever been you. Every moment spent thinking about you, aching for you, loving you. And then … everything came crashing down around me. You were with him when you were mine.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “But even then, you were still mine, weren’t you, baby? When you were convinced my kingdom was responsible for your mother’s death, when you were planning a skiesdamned coup under my nose, when you left Tundrayn in love with another man. The wormbark oil was for me.”

He phrases it like a question, and I nod quickly.

“And when I returned from the border, you were planning to tell me everything.”

“Yes,” I whisper, head still arched back in his punishing grip.

“And I would’ve helped you. I’d have helped you kill them all,” he admits, his voice low and dark. “Without a second thought. You didn’t fucking need him. Because I’ve always been yours. I have been since I met you. And you need to decide now. Because you’re either mine or you’re not. And if you choose to be mine, Mayah—” He wrenches my head back farther, and a soft whimper escapes my lips.

“I won’t be kind. I won’t be gentle. I’m going to ruin you, the way you ruined me. You will spend your nights, your mornings, any moment I can get my hands on you, begging for a mercy that will never come. You’re going to ache for me, Mayah. The way I’ve been aching for you since that first night you slapped me across the face.”

I drag in a quivering breath, fingers trailing along the sharp edge of his jaw, committing every detail to memory.

“I think,” I murmur, “it’s time we consummate our marriage.”

He leans back just enough to look me over, voice both sharp and soft, like a velvet blade. “Take off your clothes,” he growls, “and wait for me on the bed.”

I scramble off his lap, shucking off my tunic and leggings before climbing onto the thin mattress. By the time I’m settled, Zev’s disappeared into the washroom, and the sound of running water greets my ears. Anticipation skitters along my spine, through every nerve of my body. Tides, I’ve wanted this for months.

Except Zev takes the longest shower in the history of showers. In the history of man, really. I debate wielding the water into ice, but I don’t think that’d go over well.

By the time the water shuts off, I’m practically crawling out of my skin. My husband emerges from the washroom with damp hair, water droplets clinging to his bare torso. A rush of desire pulses through my core as my eyes drink him in, all tanned skin and cut muscles. His molten gaze rakes over me. My skin pebbles beneath his heated appraisal.

A slow, wicked smile unfurls across his lips.

The kind that promises pain and pleasure all at once.

Despite all his threats of making me ache, Zev is exceedingly gentle with me.

Whispers of I love you so fucking much in my ears. Sweet, tender kisses feathered all over my face and jaw. Sweat-slicked skin, hot kisses on my neck, fingers laced tightly above my head. A murmured you’re so fucking perfect.

Slow, deep thrusts and I’m so sorry, baby.

Pressed foreheads, swallowed moans, soft promises.

He eases me through the pain, coaxing it into pleasure.

I unravel in his arms, a shuddering pool of electric nerves.

My husband is gentle and kind and sweet.

All the things he swore he wouldn’t be.

The first time.

I’ve barely caught my breath, skin still tingling with pleasure, when he flips me onto my stomach and then, Tides, does he ruin me.

Rough hands twisting in my hair, yanking my head back.

A rumbling you’re mine, only mine, all fucking mine.

Sharp bites on my earlobe, purpling bruises sucked into my skin.

Demanding fingers on my hips, pulling me back harder against him. Say my name. Say my fucking name, growled into my flesh over and over again until I forget my own. The imprint of his large hand might be permanently tattooed around my throat.

Take it. Take everything I give you.

He reduces me to a mewling, whimpering, aching mess.

And still, I’m not ruined enough.

I beg for mercy, but it never comes. Just like he promised.

I come, though. Again and again and again.

He wrings another earth-shaking scream from me, until I’m writhing on the bed, scrambling away, but he drags me back, spreading me open before him like a feast until I lose all sense of myself.

With tears on my cheeks and his name on my lips, he makes me shatter for what must be the sixth time. I’m limp on the damp mattress, still quivering from aftershocks as he kisses his way up my body, then gathers me into his strong arms.

A contented hum escapes my swollen lips, and I nestle deeper into him. “I love you,” I mumble against his chest, only half coherent. “You’ve thoroughly ruined me.”

A deep masculine chuckle vibrates beneath my cheek, his fingers tracing long, firm lines against my side.

My body stills.

A horrifying, breath-stopping, blood-freezing thought crosses my mind. What if this was his goodbye?

“Zev,” I whisper, all vestiges of sleep chased away by panicked terror. “You’ll—you’ll stay, right?”

His silence nearly undoes me.

“Say something.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he rises from the bed and rifles in his satchel.

“Zev?” My voice cracks like a thin sheet of ice.

Thank the Tides he returns to bed and draws me back into his arms.

A relieved breath sags through me as I melt into him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, grasping my hand and sliding his ring back onto my finger. The teardrop diamond winks in the lantern light. It fits perfectly, as if I’d worn it all along. Zev kisses my palm and holds it against his stubbled cheek. “Yeah, baby, I’ll stay.”

EPILOGUE

THREE MONTHS LATER

THE BRISK MORNING AIR kisses my face, threading chilly fingers through my loose hair. Beneath my sandaled feet, the stone balcony is cool and pleasant. Even winter in Arbinj is nothing compared to the cruel cold of the tundra I once called home.

The capital sprawls beneath me. Brick buildings, shingled roofs, neat and orderly streets—the city that welcomed me home as their Healing Queen along with their newly crowned Commander-turned-King.

Footsteps sound behind me, familiar and steady. A smile curves my lips as a muscled arm snakes around my waist, my husband’s mouth finding my fluttering pulse.

“Ready?” Zev murmurs, pulling me back against his chest.

“Yes,” I lie. He doesn’t conceal the gentle ripple that travels through him.

“It’ll be all right. The last letter was optimistic, remember?” His fingers trace slow, steady circles over my waist, anchoring me with his touch.

I frown. “Sorka said they’d be ‘open to discussion.’ That’s not exactly welcoming me with open arms.”

Zev chuckles against my skin. “He couldn’t very well write ‘Please come rule us.’ You’ve made more progress in just three months than most rulers make in years. New trade routes, the wielder-exchange, consistent letters and delegation. They’ll welcome you back. They just need to see you.”

Doubt still needles beneath my ribs. Arbinj has been surprisingly warm to change. Tundrayn has been colder in every sense. We hadn’t risked a visit while tensions remained high. Sorka’s ruled over the kingdom since … I killed my father. I haven’t seen my homeland since I left with Zev all those months ago.

That changes today.

From the balcony, I spot the carriages ready to ferry us across the border. I lace my fingers with Zev’s, steadying myself with the simple strength of him, and we head through the palace halls together.

In the courtyard, we bid Tairna farewell with tight hugs and promises to write as soon as we arrive. Zev guides us toward the royal carriage, but I tug him left—to a smaller, unassuming one. The prisoner’s carriage. The same one where Zev once shackled me.

He arches a brow. “Seriously?”

I fight a grin. “I’m only insisting on this painfully unworthy contraption for your safety. But worry not, husband. Once we reach Tundrayn, we’ll switch back into the royal carriage. You’ll enter the capital with all the pomp—”

I squeal as Zev scoops me into his strong arms and swiftly climbs the steps, settling down on the bench with me in his lap, hands gripping my waist with an easy possession.

“That smart mouth’s going to get you in trouble,” he murmurs, skimming his lips over mine.

“Mmm, I love being in trouble with you.”

“Yeah?”

“No. Not at all, actually,” I whisper. A shudder ripples through him, his lips curling into a sinful smirk that has my thighs clenching around his. Zev likes these tiny lies, I’ve learned, the ones that send a prickle down his spine and reassurance through his heart.

That it was all real. That we are real.

His lips are on mine before I can blink, and he swallows my startled gasp when the carriage lurches into motion.

I break our kiss, lifting one of his arms to the shackle bolted into the carriage wall.

“Mayah—”

“It’s not iron.” Click. The first cuff snaps shut. “I had Gregoran switch them out.”

Click.

“Oh?” Zev’s voice deepens, dark with promise as I shift in his lap. “And what exactly did you tell Gregoran about why you needed new shackles?”

“He didn’t ask.” I press a kiss to Zev’s lips, drawing back before he can deepen it. “But if he had asked, I’d have said it’s between me and my husband.”

I grind my hips and watch as his eyes flutter shut with a ragged groan.

“And what exactly is between us?” he asks hoarsely.

I scrape my teeth along his thick collarbone, reveling in his sharp inhale. I don’t bother answering, just bracket his jaw between my palms and kiss him greedily. Tides, I’ll never tire of his taste—of how he kisses me like he’s starving.

Even shackled, he holds all the power.

His tongue delves into my mouth, coaxing a breathless moan from me. If I’m not careful, he’ll kiss me senseless, and I’ll forget my plan.

Still kissing him, I summon power into my palms.

It’s takes him a moment to realize what I’ve done.

He jerks back, eyes wide. “Skies, Mayah. You—”

“I channeled my power into you.”

His chest heaves, face twisting into something like desperation.

“Fuck, baby. I—I could hurt you.”

“You won’t. And even if you do, luckily, I know an excellent healer.” I slide off his lap, settling lazily across from him on the bench, legs spread wide in invitation.

His gaze drops, dark and hungry. “Uncuff me. Let me channel into you, too.” His voice is an anguished growl, but I only smile.

“Next time,” I whisper huskily. My tongue darts out to trace my lower lip. He watches, entranced. “This time, I want to be in my senses when you ravage me.”

His breathing roughens, wrists straining against the cuffs. He blinks rapidly, then drags his gaze back to my eyes.

“Why now? We could’ve done this in our bed.”

I shrug. “It’s more fun this way.”

“Want to know what I think?” he rasps. “You’re afraid to return to Tundrayn. And you want a distraction.”

I purse my lips. “Both things can be true.”

He tips his head back, eyes closed, a deep growl rumbling through his chest. When he looks at me again, his eyes are nearly black. “Pick a word. Say it, and I’ll try my best to stop.”

“Thunder.” I have no intention of using it, though.

His gaze drags over me—mouth, throat, thighs—as if deciding which part of me he wants to devour first.

“Uncuff me,” he snarls, straining against the shackles.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I croon, widening my legs. “You look a little flushed.”

He’s panting now—not for air, but for me.

“You’ve been a very bad girl, Mayah.” It’s a throaty warning through gritted teeth. “Shackling me. Channeling into me. Fucking teasing me.” His smile is sharp. Wicked. “I’m going to have to punish you.”

Fuck. Yes.

“How will you punish me?” I breathe.

“You’re about to find out.”

With a brutal crack, the wood around the shackles splinters. My husband tears himself free of the wall like a storm breaking loose.

He looms over me, hunger and rage and promise burning in his eyes. His large hand wraps around my throat—firm, not cruel—tilting my head until I meet his feral gaze.

“On your knees.”

There’s not a single muscle in my body that doesn’t ache. My head lolls against Zev’s shoulder, his breath warm at my temple.

Cold air gusts through the holes he punched through the carriage walls, and I shiver, curling myself tightly against him. My gown lays in tatters on the floor, and I can’t be bothered to change into the spare I packed in anticipation of exactly this.

“You all right?” he murmurs, stroking my back.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “That was … intense.”

“I’m still going to punish you later.”

“I thought that was my punishment.”

He scoffs. “You enjoyed it too much.”

The journey back to Tundrayn unfolds nothing like our month-long trek to Arbinj. This time, we travel the main carriage roads, stopping at small, cozy inns where warm fires burn in hearths and mismatched mugs brim with mead. Dinners in our honor are common, held by minor lords eager to gain favor with their new king and queen. I’m subjected to curious, sometimes wary, eyes, though that always changes after dinner, once I offer to heal any ailments.

Zev watches me with open, unapologetic pride etched across his handsome face, ensuring I eat enough between patients.

Nights blur together in cramped rooms with paper-thin walls, too-small beds, and scratchy sheets. We’re all sweat-slicked skin, tangled limbs, and teasing touches. Zev muffles my breathy moans beneath his large palm, whispering, “Quiet, baby. Those sounds are just for me.”

As we near Tundrayn, civilization thins and the air turns sharper. At the first sight of snow, my stomach stumbles with a wave of homesickness so fierce, my hands tremble in my lap. Zev halts the carriages without a word, and we walk until the cold bites at my ankles and my snowballs leave him glowering.

We spend most nights curled beneath thick blankets in the royal carriage, but one evening, I coax him into the woods, guards left behind. I start a small fire while Zev hunts snowshoe hare, and we share a meal beneath the stars, like we’d done countless times, except now I sit in his lap and he feeds me pieces of charred meat, demanding a kiss between every other bite.

Later, beneath his smoke-scented cloak, Zev makes love to me, slowly, reverently, swallowing each gasp of pleasure, and worshipping me the way I’d imagined a thousand times over.

I fall asleep cradled in strong arms. Safe. Happy.

His.

A week later, my legs are shaky as I exit the royal carriage, a thick cloak thrown over my shoulders.

The cold air hits my face like home.

Let’s hope my people still see it that way.

Hand in hand, Zev and I walk through the snowy courtyard, flanked by our guards, who still pointedly avoid my gaze. I’m not sure they’ll ever look at us the same way again after this passion-filled journey.

My heart stutters as the towering ice doors, ones I’ve crossed countless times, open before us. Zev squeezes my hand.

Together, we enter.

Sorka stands ready to receive us. A good sign, I hope. Beside him, Vy watches us warily, hands settled protectively over her round belly. Behind them, standing with the waterwielders, are Sura and Tumaas. Both wear bright, encouraging grins. Other warriors stand shoulder-to-shoulder with them, a sea of blues and whites, icy eyes fixed on Zev.

“Mayah. Commander,” Sorka greets softly.

“Sorka.” I school my tone into smooth diplomacy. “Thank you for overseeing the kingdom in our absence. I trust the food stores are full? The people, content?”

A beat. Then, a nod.

“Wonderful. My husband and I are ready for the discussions you mentioned in your last letter. I don’t wish to take Tundrayn by force. But make no mistake—I am its queen.”

Silence ripples through the room.

“Yes. About that,” Sorka says slowly. “I’ve discussed with our advisers at length. Tormik’s treachery, your mother’s murder. The storms. Your attack at the camp. And well—perhaps it’s easier to show you.”

He gestures us forward.

Through the familiar icy halls, homesickness swirls in my chest like a restless tide. The Great Hall rises before us, vast and glittering beneath frozen chandeliers. At its center, a circular dais gleams like glass. Upon it, rest two intricately carved ice thrones.

They’re larger than the ones from the betrothal ceremony.

Regal. Unyielding. Permanent.

I cut Sorka a sharp glance. In answer, he gestures for us to ascend.

Zev and I climb the dais, taking the offered seats. My betrothal ring gleams in the bright light.

“There’s much still to mend,” Sorka says. “Wrongs to be righted. But one thing has been decided.” He glances around the hall. “Tundrayn welcomes you home, Queen Mayah.”