Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mayah is a mess of nerves as we walk through the halls toward the dining room, and I hate that she must be subjected to this.
One meal. It’s one meal, and we’ll grin and bear it.
“You look beautiful.” I cast an appreciative gaze over her, my hand steady on her lower back.
Her ice-blue gown sets off the natural rosy hue of her cheeks, cinching tightly at her waist. I’m helpless against my need to drink in every inch of her—the dark waves spilling over her shoulders, the indent of her waist where my hand sits, the bare skin of her clavicle, her necklace glinting in the hollow between her collarbones.
The sight of her teardrop pendant reminds me—Mayah’s new ring. I need to send a courier to retrieve it from the jeweler. I’d given specific instructions yesterday to a servant about the design—and the urgency.
“What if they ask me about the Rebellion?” Mayah asks. “Or insult Tundrayn? Or my father. Should I be nice? Or be myself?”
I chuckle. “Always be yourself. But they won’t ask.
I drilled it into them last night that I will be extremely …
displeased if either of them is rude to you.
” Mayah is more than capable of defending herself, but she shouldn’t have to.
Not when I’m here. Her answering smile is bright, and I find myself returning it.
“My brother will still find a way to be an ass, though. I’m sorry in advance. ”
In the dining hall, my father and Faramir are already seated. I sit across from my brother, pulling out a chair for Mayah beside me.
“Morning, brother. Sister,” Faramir greets, wearing his customary mocking grin. “What an interesting evening! I hope your wedding night still lived up to expectations.”
Thunder rumbles.
“Stop needling your brother, Faramir,” my father mutters between sips of black coffee.
“It was an interesting evening,” Mayah says, lacing her fingers with mine. “One spent in the best of company.”
I smile down at our joined hands, a spark skating across my skin.
Faramir refuses to let me enjoy even a moment of peace, though. “Brother, I’ve been thinking … would you be disappointed if Mayah gives birth to a healer? Healers are so”—he wrinkles his nose—“weak. Boring.”
Clouds gather outside, blocking the sunlight filtering through the large windows. Anger burns inside me like an uncontrollable fire. How fucking dare—
Mayah squeezes my hand, shooting a look that says, I can handle him.
“Weak, compared to waterwielders?” she asks casually.
“Brother-in-law, correct me if I’m mistaken, but my understanding is that a waterwielding bride would never have been permitted inside Arbinj.
Isn’t that why my father wasn’t granted leave to attend his own daughter’s wedding?
Because he’s a waterwielder? Honestly, I’m surprised he’s being welcomed to the Equinox Festival. ”
Faramir eyes her curiously, and it sets my protective instincts on edge. Mayah’s chair scrapes against the stone floor as I slide it toward me until her side presses against mine, my arm thrown across the back.
“His invitation,” Faramir purrs, “depends on your good behavior, Mayah. Right, Father? If you’re naughty, then—”
“Faramir,” my father says in warning.
“For a healer, Mayah,” my half-brother continues, undeterred, “you’re actually quite fascinating. And who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise us all and birth an earthwielder like me—”
I don’t think—just react. Snatching a fork from the table, I fling it at his head. Silver glints through the air, the fork skimming the top of his head before clanging to the floor.
“Do not speak to my wife,” I growl, leaning across the table.
“Guards!” Faramir bellows, his face crimson, madness glazing his eyes. “Seize him!” The guards flanking the doorways don’t leave their posts. “I said, seize him!”
“ENOUGH!” my father shouts, slamming a fist on the table. “Faramir, not another word. Zevayr, just—just stop.”
Faramir fixes a murderous glare at him, his eye twitching. He beats his head three times before smoothing his unkempt hair. I’m accustomed to his manic outbursts, but I wonder what Mayah thinks of him.
A welcome silence descends for the rest of the meal.
“King Varad,” Mayah says, clearing her throat.
I cast her an inquisitive glance, hand tightening on her shoulder. “Speaking of the Equinox Festival … one of the noblewomen last night mentioned that I might assist with planning.”
My father stares at her for a long moment, gaze flicking to me.
“That would be a great help,” he finally says.
“I’ll have the servants consult you about preparations.
” He licks his lips, weighing his next words.
“And Mayah … it’s best if you pen a letter to your father about your decision to marry Zevayr.
I will write to him as well, of course, but he should hear from you. It will help smooth things over.”
“Of course, King Varad.”
“And … you may call me Father. If you wish.”
Mayah stiffens but manages to smile politely. She’s doing so well, it’s an effort not to whisper praises in her ear.
“You’re quite the diplomat, Mayah,” Faramir drawls, beady eyes riveted to my wife. “You could be a strong queen … if you wanted.” Before I can react, he adds, “Maybe you can get my little brother to stop scowling so much.”
I bare my teeth in a snarl.
The expression freezes on my face when Mayah trails her fingers over my jaw and angles my head toward her. “I rather like his broody scowl.”
No prickles.
A wide grin stretches across my lips, warmth blooming in my chest. I rise from the table, tugging Mayah up alongside me. “Excuse us. I have plans today with my wife.”
We’ve nearly escaped when Faramir calls, “What about the council meeting?”
“Fill me in later.”
“…and this is the library.” I swing the door open, guiding Mayah inside. We’ve already visited the solarium, stables, and council chambers, but I think her sharp mind will especially appreciate our collection of books.
When Mayah’s lips part as she surveys the massive space, the towering bookshelves and rolling ladders, I know I’m right.
“Like it?” I ask, pitching my voice low. I haven’t missed the furious blush that paints her cheeks at the sound of my sleep-roughened voice.
“It’s just—I mean, we have books in Tundrayn, but nothing like this. Can I bring some back to our room?”
Our room.
Something warm and fierce wells in my chest. I’m caught in the trance of her eyes. I think I nod, but I can’t be entirely certain. With her arm tucked in the crook of mine, we walk through the aisles.
“Of Love and Ruin, hmmm?” My lips curve into a sly grin when she pulls the romantic tale from a shelf. “Let me know if you want to discuss. Or reenact.” I wink at her, and she huffs, cheeks flushing prettily, before punching my arm.
One aisle over, she selects a thick tome about Arbinj’s history. I frown, casting her an inquisitive glance. It’s a far cry from the other books she’s selected.
“I like to learn,” she explains with a shrug.
My sharp girl. Of course she’ll want to learn about her new home—at least, I hope she’ll come to think of it as home. With me.
And it’ll be good for her to read the history from our side—who knows what false, embellished tales or downright lies they teach in Tundrayn.
“I think that’s enough for now,” Mayah says, eyeing the stack of books in my arms. We head toward the door, dust motes drifting in our wake. My steps falter as we pass a familiar aisle.
“What?” Mayah asks, following my gaze.
Hands clamped over my mouth, I swallow down a giggle.
“Vayru?” Mother calls. “Where have you gone?”
She’ll never find me under the bed. I even piled pillows in front, so she won’t see me.
“Where could my darling Vayru be?” she says, her voice closer. “Come out now! I’ll read you a passage from Faerahzar.”
I swallow hard. “Nothing. I, uh, just remembered a book. My mother used to read it to me.”
The pillows tumble to the side. I gasp when Mother’s face comes into view. “Vayru,” she chides, but she can’t hide the smile on her face. “Going to make me come after you? All right then, little one.” She reaches for me, fingers tickling my ribs until I’m gasping for air.
When I finally crawl out, she brushes a kiss to my forehead. “Blergh.” She sticks out her tongue at me. “You’re all covered in dust! Go wash up, and then we’ll read. Quickly, now!”
“Show me,” Mayah murmurs, tugging me down the aisle.
My shoulders are stiff as I set down the stack of books and retrieve Faerahzar from a high shelf—Mother needed a ladder.
The hem of her gown would brush my shoulders as I held it steady for her, not realizing it was attached to the shelf.
She never told me otherwise, content to let me believe I was protecting her from harm.
Not that I protected her when she needed it.
A vise constricts my lungs as I run a reverent finger over the title. Faerahzar the Great and Other Children’s Tales.
How many times had Mother done exactly this? My finger comes back with a thick coating of dust.
I swallow past the tightness in my throat, but it doesn’t ease.
“Faerahzar?” Mayah says with a smile. “We call him Faerataak the Mighty.” She nudges my arm with her elbow. “He was Tundrayni.”
My lips quirk. I haven’t said a word, but she can read the grief in my heart. She’s trying to console me, and her kindness warms my soul, even if nothing can fill the hole Mother’s death left inside me.
“Don’t say that to anyone else. You’ll get sucked into a two-hour-long debate about why he was definitely Arbinji. Or you’ll get stabbed.”
I reach up to replace the book, but Mayah snatches it from my hands. “I’d like to read it.”
I freeze. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Truth.
She truly wants to read this fantastical children’s book. For me. Her earnest expression stokes the embers of hope inside me—that maybe, just maybe, she’s falling for me, too.
She clutches the book to her chest, averting her gaze.
By the Skies, one day she’ll stand unflinching before the love in my eyes. She’ll bask in its warmth, not shrink away from it.
“Can we see the Healing Chambers next?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yeah, we call it an infirmary here.”
“What’s that smell?” she asks, nose wrinkling as we enter.
“Antiseptic,” I chuckle. “It’s mostly alcohol. Used to prevent infection.”
“Sire,” Sauzon greets, white hair glinting in the light as he bows deeply. “To what do I owe this honor?”
“Sauzon. This is Princess Mayah.”
Mayah dips her chin in greeting, but her gaze flits over the patients lying in cots, lingering on the sleeping man she healed last night.
I know my tender-hearted wife is itching to heal every last one. With a nod to Sauzon, I usher her into the hallway before she can offer. After the debacle last night and rumors about her sympathizing with the Rebellion, there’s a large target square on her back.
I distract her before she can protest.
Just before sunset, I take Mayah to the gardens where we were wed. With the chaos of that day, there was no time to properly enjoy its beauty.
I can’t tear my gaze from her face, lit with wonder at the colorful blooms lining the path.
“Do you miss the snow?” I ask quietly as we turn a corner.
She looks pleasantly surprised by my question. “Not today,” is all she says, squeezing my hand.
Her breath catches as we come across the picnic I planned.
The servants did well—lanterns are strung between the trees, and a checkered blanket stretches across the grass, a large bouquet arranged artfully in the center. A wicker basket rests beside it, its lid slightly ajar.
I watch for her reaction. Does she like the flowers?
She offers a small smile, and the tension seeps from my shoulders.
We sit on the blanket, eating in comfortable silence.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. I know she means for the day we’ve shared.
My lips twist in an apologetic smile. “I won’t have as much time these next few days. There are movements with the Rebellion. And the hopeful alliance with Volca. I’ll be caught up in meetings.”
“Can I come with you?”
“Faramir and my father will be there. It’s best you avoid them.”
She frowns, tugging a loose thread on the blanket. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
“Read the books from the library? Help plan the Equinox Festival?”
Her frown heats into a glare.
“I know it’s not ideal,” I add quickly, placing my hand on her knee. “Just give me some time.”
“So that’s it? I just wait in a pretty room until the next dance or dress fitting?”
“No.” I squeeze her knee. “You live. And you stay safe.”
She huffs, fingers fisting the blanket. Is she picturing my throat in her grip? “Can I explore the palace?”
“Not without me.”
That was apparently the wrong answer because she bolts to her feet, ready to storm away. I grab her ankle before she can escape, and she tumbles down—right into my arms.
I cradle her close, and Skies, her indignant expression has me grinning. She writhes violently in my grasp, but I just hold her tighter until she tires herself out.
“Done?” I ask with a crooked smile.
She scowls, avoiding my gaze. I nestle her against my chest, arm supporting her head.
“You know I’m not actually a baby, right?” she snaps, smacking my shoulder. “You don’t have to hold me like one.”
“How should I hold you, then?”
Her mouth is poised to rage at me some more, but she remains quiet, swallowing whatever sharp words were on her tongue.
I angle her chin toward me. My stubborn wife still won’t meet my gaze.
“Mayah,” I murmur. “I left you alone last night for a few minutes, and you were attacked. The war between our kingdoms has raged for decades—it will take time for the citizens to forget. To heal. There could be other people who want to hurt you. Just … don’t leave our chamber without me, okay? I’ll spend every free minute with you.”
“I could explore the palace with my guards,” she insists. “What good are they if I’m not safe with them?”
I skate my fingers along her jaw before tucking an errant curl behind her ear. The tension in her body eases slightly, and I love the effect I have on her, whether or not she’s ready to admit it.
“I could assign you fifty guards, but Faramir can order every single one away.” I cup her cheek, willing her to see the love in my eyes.
“I want you to be happy here, Mayah. Happy with me. But I also need to keep you safe. Would you let me wander around the Tundrayni palace alone?” I tap a finger against my cheek, pretending to think. “Actually, don’t answer that.”
She can’t contain the amused huff that escapes her, and it coaxes a grin to my face.
Skies help me, this woman has me wrapped around her finger.