4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
We ride in silence, our journey framed by the white landscape rushing past the small window.
Mayah sits quietly, hands crossed primly in her lap.
I study her as she stares resolutely out the window.
I’m prepared to avert my gaze the second she turns her head, but I don’t have to. She never looks at me.
The carriage slows—is it time already? I’d instructed the drivers to stop after thirty minutes to switch carriages.
Mayah eyes me warily as I descend, offering a hand to help her down. She stares at it like it’s something vile. “Why did we stop?”
Skies, she’s not going to make this easy.
“A precautionary measure.”
The princess doesn’t move.
A deep sigh escapes me. “If we’re attacked,” I explain, “they’d expect us to ride in one of the royal carriages. So we’ll ride in the smaller one.”
“Attacked by who?”
I don’t bother responding, just stare at her pointedly.
“Why didn’t we just ride in the smaller one to begin with?”
I grind my teeth, struggling to remain patient. She’s left her home, likely for the first time, with her enemy. Alone. Of course, she’s skittish.
“I wanted to avoid explaining to Tormik why I was delivering his daughter in the … other carriage.” I jerk my hand, still hovering between us. “Dismount. Please.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Stop saying you’re ‘delivering’ me. I’m not goods that you’ve bartered.”
A flicker of amusement curls in my chest at her scowl, and my lips tip up at the corners before I regain control of my face.
When I don’t respond, she finally stomps down, ignoring my proffered hand, stalking toward the smaller carriage at the back of the procession. Unbidden, my eyes are drawn to the swell of her backside, hips swaying with each furious step.
Mayah halts in front of the carriage, and I reach around her to open the door. My nose nearly brushes against her hair, her scent invading my senses—cold, clean frost and something faintly floral. Winter rose, I think.
Her body stiffens at my sudden proximity, and she darts up the stairs. Skies, I need to get a hold of myself.
Faramir. She’s betrothed to Faramir.
Mayah freezes at the top, then whirls. I’m two steps below her, but she still needs to crane her neck to glare at me.
“This is to transport prisoners,” she hisses.
“Very observant, Princess.” Another begrudging smile tugs at my lips. “Now, get in.”
“Absolutely not. You’re out of your tidesdamned mind if you think I’m going to let you shackle me—”
“I’m not planning to shackle you. Unless you give me a reason.” I smirk at her, enjoying her anger far more than I should.
She jabs her finger into my chest, and it sends a jolt of surprise through me.
“You will not parade me through Arbinj like a prisoner. This is humiliating. Insulting. Improper. I can’t fathom—”
“Mayah,” I interject. She flinches as if I swore at her.
“Take a breath. I’m only insisting on this carriage—this disgracefully obvious, painfully unworthy contraption—for your safety.
And I won’t let you endure it alone. I’ll be right there with you, crammed into this pathetic excuse for transport, which, as you’ve noted, is better suited for convicts instead of princesses.
” I gesture to the carriage. “Once we reach Arbinj, we’ll switch back into the royal carriage.
You’ll enter the capital with all the pomp and respect you deserve. But for now … Get. In.”
Her expression twists into vicious disdain, and for a moment, I think she’ll slap me. But she finally turns, storming into the carriage, her hair whipping me in the face.
My knees knock against hers as I sit on the opposite bench, and she tucks her legs closer to herself as though I’m a disease she doesn’t want to catch. Mayah glares at me, and Skies help me, I smirk at her again. A scoff claws through her lips, and she turns sideways, glaring outside the window.
This is going to be a long journey.
An hour. An hour of peaceful silence is all she grants me.
“Why did you refuse to stay at the palace?” she asks, a faint crease marring her brow. “It was just one night.”
“The ceasefire is relatively new. I didn’t want to risk staying in … hostile territory for longer than necessary.”
“A ceasefire that only you have broken.”
“So far.” Irritation spikes in my chest at her reminder. “And I told you, it was an accident.”
She’s quiet for a single skiesblessed moment before asking, “During the betrothal ceremony … the thunder. Was that you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” She leans forward, as much as the cramped space allows, elbows braced on her knees, studying me like I’m a puzzle she wants to solve.
“I was angry.” My irritation swells into annoyance, and if she’s not careful, she’ll risk another storm.
“You can’t control your power when you’re angry?”
“Do you always ask so many questions?” I grit out.
“Maybe.” She smirks, and it’s an effort to keep my eyes from dropping to her full lips. She’s scrubbed away the rouge, and I can’t help but notice that her natural pink suits her more.
“Why do you want to marry my brother?” It’s a thinly veiled reminder to myself of who she is. I’ve avoided looking at her for the past hour because she’s incredibly beautiful—that, combined with her snark and the fact that she doesn’t seem to fear me, has me all kinds of intrigued.
And I can’t feel intrigued about my future sister-in-law.
“I don’t,” she says. “But I’ll do anything to protect my people.”
I study her face, waiting for my neck to prickle. It never does. I’m surprised she answered honestly. I must stare too long because her mouth parts and—
A massive explosion rocks the carriage, throwing us sideways. Mayah lands hard against the wall, and I slam into her. The swell of her chest flattens against mine, her head banging against the window.
I want to ask if she’s all right, but the sounds of chaos snag my attention. A muttered “shit” is all I can manage.
“Stay here.” I can only hope she’ll heed my command. Without another glance, I punch the carriage door open and climb out.
Mayhem. Utter mayhem.
Swarms of leather-clad assailants—rebels—fill the clearing, swords glinting in the sunlight. Whinnying horses bolt through the tundra, trampling over fallen soldiers, leaving a trail of bloody hoofprints. Energy signatures pulse wildly, each one bleeding indiscernibly into the next.
I raise my hand. The sky darkens, thunder rumbling ominously. My knees buckle as I leap off the side of the carriage, boots sinking into ankle-deep snow.
Beside me, one of my soldiers sends roots tunneling through a rebel’s abdomen.
Another impales a man on his sword.
The only other stormwielder calls lightning.
We fight. We stand. We bleed.
“HOLD!” I shout over the chaos.
But the rebels keep coming. There are too many. Skies, how did they know we’d be here?
I charge into the fray, sword flashing. A man falls dead at my feet, quickly followed by another.
Lightning cracks through the sky. The stench of burnt flesh mingles with smoke and blood and death.
I summon lightning and incinerate three more rebels, yanking my sword free from the dead body of a fourth.
The harsh clang of metal.
The brittle snap of sundered bone.
The gruesome squelch of flesh.
Intimately, sickeningly familiar sounds that haunt my dreams.
A sudden explosion rattles my skull, and I snap toward the sound. My blood turns to ice—the carriage.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Lightning strike me, I forgot about Mayah. Where is she? I shouldn’t have left her in there alone. Fuck, is she—
My gaze snags on a blue speck crawling away from the burning remains of the carriage. Cool relief surges through my veins.
The relief is short-lived, though, because a rebel heads straight toward her, sword aimed at her back.
I raise my hand.
Lightning answers.
A blinding beam of pure energy tears from the sky and hits the cowardly man. Mayah stares at the corpse beside her in shock, and then her mouth opens on a gut-wrenching scream that seems to never end.
Heads swivel in her direction.
Fuck, she’s drawing too much attention. I shove my sword through another rebel, heading toward her.
She’s still screaming.
“It’s the princess!” a rebel calls out. “Don’t hurt her!”
And then she faints—loose limbs, dark hair splayed across dirty snow. A skiesdamned easy target.
“Drazar!” the same rebel shouts. “It’s her! She’s over there!” Two men bolt over to Mayah’s prone body, slipping on ice and rain. They stand guard over her, shielding her from the chaos.
What. In. The. Fucking. Skies.
Murderous rage explodes in my gut, billows up my throat until I’m choking on my anger.
They’re protecting her? Has Tundrayn allied with the Rebellion? Was the entire betrothal a fucking ploy to lure me and Faramir here and assassinate us?
Red seeps into my vision. The storm grows louder. Angrier. Rain pelts down in a fury, and I summon bolt after bolt after bolt, incinerating every rebel I set eyes on. I shout orders over the thunder, unsure how many of my men are still alive to hear them.
The two men standing guard over her are nonwielders. Swords raised in quivering hands, they eye me with fear as I approach. As they fucking should. I debate calling lightning, but they’re too close to the traitorous princess.
And I need her alive. For now.
I reach the two men, killing them quickly. Dark blood spills from gaping wounds in their throats. There are a handful of men left—none are mine. I summon lightning and kill them all.
The phantom taste of blood blooms on my tongue.
I roll the princess onto her back. She’s unharmed. Dark lashes cast shadows across her pale cheeks—she looks as though she’s sleeping. She looks innocent.
Rage scorches through my veins.
I leave her in the snow and comb through the wreckage, retrieving what I can of supplies and food. I find a satchel with what appears to be her clothing. There’s nothing that screams lying traitor when I rummage through it.
The smoking skeleton of the prisoners' carriage casts eerie shadows on the snow, and I grab a few coils of rope from inside and head back to where she’s still unconscious.
I’m rougher than I need to be when I bind her wrists together. Not even a whisper of guilt—she was part of the attack. She had to be. Her and her father. The rebels knew how many men I’d have, where we’d be, when we’d be here.
There isn’t any time to bury my men.
With one final glance around the wreckage, I haul Mayah over my shoulder and head into the forest.