Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Mayah is going to kill me.
Flay the skin from my bones, then heal me and do it all over again. Demand we annul our marriage and stomp back to Tundrayn.
For the hundredth time, my gaze cuts to the arched glass windows—to the sun beyond it, crested in the sky. I promised to have lunch with her, and I’m over an hour late.
“How many men did they have?” my father asks, brows creased as he stares at the map. Faramir lounges uselessly beside him, feet propped up on a chair.
“Two hundred, sire.” Jeyzar flicks his shrewd gaze to me, likely waiting for my input or observations. I can’t be bothered to focus, not when the fragile truce Mayah granted me last night is on the verge of shattering.
I clear my throat. “Let’s regroup after—”
The door bursts open, and a harried servant rushes in.
“Sire,” he pants, wide gaze fixed on me. “Um, well—”
“Out with it,” my father snaps.
The young man, a boy really, shifts his weight. “Sire, the princess—”
I’m on my feet before he can finish. “What’s happened to her?”
“She’s—she’s healing, sire. In the infirmary. Sauzon sent for you.”
The silence that falls over the room suffocates me.
Faramir smirks broadly, while my father’s face slowly reddens with outrage. “Zevayr,” he grits out. “If you cannot control your wife, I’ll—”
“You’ll do nothing.” I ignore the surprised gasp from the servant. “I’ll handle it.”
“The princess of Arbinj,” Faramir drawls, leaning an elbow on the table. “On her knees again, healing commons. What will the nobility say? I’d hate for them to find out.”
“Shut the fuck up.” The room darkens as the noontime sun disappears behind swollen clouds.
The advisers in the room suddenly find the carpet riveting.
“I’m serious, little brother. Are you certain she doesn’t have ties to the Rebellion? Perhaps we should bring her in, ask her about the attack—”
“Shut. Up,” I growl. Thunder rumbles as I stalk away, slamming the door behind me.
Rage scorches my veins at Faramir, at my father.
But also at Mayah. What the fuck is she doing? I’ve been running myself ragged day and night trying to keep her safe. There’s already a target on her back. Why is she making it bigger?
Within minutes, I storm through the infirmary door, the air crackling around me—there she is. Glowing hands attending to a man’s leg. She stiffens, shoulders tensing, as though she senses my presence.
I wait.
She doesn’t acknowledge me.
In my periphery, Sauzon stares at me expectantly.
“Mayah.” My voice is tight. Angry.
A beat.
She pivots slowly, eyes narrowed, chin tilted in defiance.
“Are my eyes deceiving me? Again?” Her voice is cold. “Is my husband truly here?” Her full lips peel back in a snarl that might’ve sent a lesser man bolting for the door. “He has meetings to attend. Princely duties. All manner of important things besides me.”
The room had already been silent, but at her words, it grows deathly still. No one breathes. No one moves. Every eye is on me, waiting to see how their prince will handle his wife’s insolence.
I step closer, and Mayah fucking turns around.
Ignores me.
“Is this your way of getting my attention?” I grit out, mindful of the watchful eyes. Faramir will hear every word of this. So will the nobles. The entire conversation will be whispered in taverns and over dinner tables by evening.
“Not everything I do is about you,” she huffs, still refusing to face me. “But maybe a little. If I knew this was all it took to summon you, I’d have barged in here days ago.”
She shoots me a scathing look over her shoulder.
“This gives me purpose. I’m a healer, Zev.
I heal. Without it, I’m missing an integral part of myself.
” Before I can respond, she barrels on, finally turning to face me.
“I’m tired of being alone, trapped in our chambers.
I need more than just planning a party. You said you’d want your wife to be your equal.
I certainly don’t feel equal, Zev. I know you’re worried for my safety, but what about my sanity?
” Her voice fractures like ice breaking underfoot.
Fuck.
I’m an awful husband. The worst husband.
A pitiful excuse for a man.
In trying to protect her, I’ve been dimming her light.
Her patient coughs nervously, wary eyes flicking to me and back, as if he might burn beneath my glare.
Mayah gestures for him to stand, and he rises smoothly, bearing weight on his leg.
The man looks just as awestruck as I felt the first time I saw her heal.
He looks upon my wife with wonder, but his smile quickly fades when he catches sight of my wrathful face.
With a murmured thanks, he shuffles away.
I scan the room, glowering at Sauzon and Graman, his assistant, who are clearly eavesdropping. They suddenly find the sense to busy themselves.
Fury still simmers within me when I turn back to Mayah, but it’s tamer now, undercut with regret. I reach for her, and she flinches. My hand freezes, the air sucked from my lungs at the flash of fear in her eyes.
A deep sigh breaks free. I reach for her again, slower this time, and cradle her cheek gently. She leans slightly into my touch.
“You haven’t eaten.” My voice is rough as I tilt her face toward the light, examining the shadows beneath her eyes, the fatigue lining her brow. “You shouldn’t have pushed yourself.”
She shrugs, refusing to meet my gaze. “My husband forgot to bring me lunch.”
Fuck. That’s right.
“Look—we’ll talk about this later.” I want nothing more than to whisk her away and make this right, but my father will send someone searching for me if I don’t return. Reluctantly, I drop my hand and stalk over to the loitering medics.
“Sauzon,” I snap. The two men startle, quickly standing at attention. “Make sure my wife eats something after every second patient. If she doesn’t, I’ll bind you to the stockade. Ten lashes for every miss.” Sauzon’s eyes flare wide, flitting to Mayah, before he nods.
“Graman.” The younger medic puffs out his chest. “Ensure my wife has everything she needs.”
I don’t allow myself to glance back at Mayah when I leave, afraid of what I’ll see in her eyes.
“Well?” my father asks as soon as I return. Faramir just smirks at me, slouching in his seat, blond hair draped over his shoulders.
I don’t answer immediately, taking my time returning to my seat. My father looks at me expectantly. “Did you handle it?”
No use prolonging the inevitable.
“Mayah will be healing in the infirmary going forward.”
There’s a beat of incredulous silence before both men speak at once.
“Have you lost your skiesdamned—”
“Oh, brother, you are whipped—”
My father rakes a violent hand through his hair, opening and closing his mouth as though he can’t summon the words to properly rebuke me.
“Zevayr,” he finally bites out, eyes blazing.
“I have been lenient with you. I allowed you to marry her, accepted her, truly, as my daughter-in-law. You upended my carefully laid plans with your infatuation.” A muscle ticks in his jaw.
“But this, I cannot allow. What will the nobility say? The princess acting as an ordinary medic? Sullying her hands with the commons?”
“She is anything but ordinary,” I snap. The sky rumbles.
“Think of the benefits. Injuries and ailments healed away. No more blights, sicknesses. Fewer deaths. The nobility can’t be so blind as to not recognize the value of a healer.
Mayah is kind and selfless in her need to help others.
Not that I expect either of you to understand. She will be allowed to heal—”
“Or else?” Faramir looks fucking gleeful, steepling his hands beneath his chin. “I sense an ‘or else.’”
“Yes, Zevayr,” my father adds, scowling. “‘She will be allowed to heal’ or else what?”
I grit my teeth. I need to play this very carefully.
“Or else you can deal with the Rebellion on your own.”
The door to our chambers flings open with a thud, louder than I intended, but irritation still clings to my every breath.
Mayah yelps, snapping her book shut.
She steals my breath. Dark hair curls around her shoulders, full lips turned down in a pout. There’s a wariness in her eyes that guts me.
I need to do better. I will be better.
My gaze drifts to her lap, where Faerahzar the Great rests in her hands. She’s still reading it, despite her anger with me. Something sharp lodges into my heart.
For a beat, we just stare at each other, and then I’m striding across the room. Her familiar scent eases the tightness in my chest, wrapping itself around me like an embrace.
“Are you still upset?” she asks, staring up at me. Her voice is steady, but the frantic pulse of her energy signature reveals her true feelings. If I set my palm over her heart, I know I’d find it thundering.
“With myself. Not with you.” I offer my hand. The tightness in my chest eases further when she clasps it loosely. “Come on.” I pull her from the sofa.
I wave away Gregoran and Freynk when they move to follow us.
“Where are we going?” Mayah asks as we walk through the torchlit corridors. I glance down at her feet, where she’s hiked up her simple blue gown to match my strides. I slow to her pace.
“It’s a surprise.”
We wind through corridors, cross open-air bridges, a path I could navigate with my eyes closed.
Halfway up the narrow, spiraling staircase, Mayah’s breath escapes in sharp pants.
Though it’s tempting, I know she’d snap at me if I offered to carry her the rest of the way, and that wouldn’t help my reconciliation efforts.
We emerge onto a small terrace—my favorite hideaway as a child. Mother would often find me here after Faramir had been cruel or if I didn’t excel in my wielding lessons.
Stone arches frame the black sky, beset with twinkling stars. The servants followed my instructions to the letter. Candles line the edges of the terrace, casting a soft glow over the stone. A large blanket waits in the center, its corners weighted with stones from the gardens.
Mayah looks unimpressed.