Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mayah.
Her name thrums in my blood, always lingering on my tongue, in my mind. She’d been awake this morning when I left—she and Sauzon are performing a major procedure today. I’d kissed the crease between her brows, hovering for a few seconds, hopeful she might press her lips to mine.
She didn’t.
“…send them back with another gift?”
Faramir’s needling voice pulls me from my thoughts. I don’t bother concealing my disdainful expression. I’ve never seen him so dedicated to achieving an outcome. The Volcan emissaries leave in a week, and we’re no closer to convincing them to accept my idiot half-brother as their future king.
I can’t say I blame them.
“The gifts have had no effect. I don’t see what else we can possibly send.” My father drums his fingers on the table, permanent scowl etched on his face.
“Maybe I can offer them a tour today. Warm them up,” I offer.
Faramir scoffs. “They’ve already seen the palace, idiot. Have you no other use besides murdering on the battlefield?” Green eyes flash with malice. “And stealing brides.”
The sky rumbles, but he doesn’t flinch.
“Nothing you’re doing is working,” I bite out.
“What’s the harm in trying? It’ll get them out of this skiesforsaken chamber and away from your insufferable face.
I’ll even wax on about what a great king you’ll make.
All our wonderful memories together. What a fucking incredible older brother you’ve been. ”
“You’re lying,” he hisses. “You’ll sabotage me. Tell them all sorts of lies.” I don’t need to lie. The truth would be enough to send the Volcan emissaries fleeing back to their island.
“I see no harm in it,” my father interjects before I can say as much. I’m on my feet in the next breath, striding toward the door.
“Zevayr.” My father’s voice catches me before I can turn the handle. His eyes are knowing as they study my face. “Don’t linger too long in the infirmary.”
We’ve seen the library and solarium. I think. I’m doing a shit job as tour guide, just walking mindlessly through the palace, answering their questions. Would Mayah have finished the procedure by now?
“Have you ever visited Volca, Prince Zevayr?” Rinzen, the portly emissary, asks. Torchlight reflects off his spectacles as he cranes his head to look at me.
“No. But I’ve always wanted to.”
“You must! Volca is magnificent. Perhaps you and your wife might visit in the spring.”
“Perhaps.”
We’re nearly there.
“And this is our infirmary,” I think I say.
My mind is focused on the woman working miracles just beyond the wall, her unique energy signature, as familiar to me as my own, thrumming softly.
I stride through the door, not caring if the emissaries follow me inside or keep walking all the way back to Volca.
“Here you’ll find—”
There she is. My wife. With a tiny bundle cradled in her arms.
My steps falter, and something warm flutters in my chest.
Skies, I’m not even sure I want children—to bring an innocent soul into this horrid world, to give Faramir another target. But seeing Mayah with that pink-blanketed bundle in her arms—some deep, primal instinct roars in my ears. My woman. Baby. Protect.
Three strides, and I’ve crossed the room.
Her smile is soft. She angles the baby toward me.
I swallow hard. Mayah brought this life into the world.
I step closer, throat tight.
“I didn’t realize tour guide was part of your job description,” she teases, her smile widening.
“I may or may not have volunteered—so I could escape the stuffy meetings and come see you. I knew you were on edge about today.” Hesitantly, I reach for the baby, waiting for her nod before resting my hand over the blanket.
She’s so small, my hand covers her entire chest. I swallow again. “It went well?” I murmur.
“Yeah. She’s beautiful. And Rinaya did so well, too.”
“The princess is being modest,” Sauzon says. He’d been conversing with the Volcan emissaries while I’d been focused on Mayah. “She is the one who did well. It’s been a blessing to have her.”
Mayah’s cheeks flush at his praise.
Rinzen smiles at her warmly, hands steepled over his round belly. “Princess Mayah. We’ve heard much about your healing endeavors. And your marriage. Many congratulations.”
No prickles. My brows furrow. Word of Mayah’s healing has spread all the way to Volca? So quickly?
The other two emissaries bow in greeting. I don’t remember their names—they rarely speak, but their sharp eyes are always observing.
“Thank you,” she replies, still blushing. The baby begins to fuss, and Mayah gently rocks her arms. That warm feeling blooms in my chest again, brighter and hotter. My hand rests at the small of her back, gaze riveted to her.
Sauzon must realize I am incapable of diplomacy in this moment because he clears his throat, turning back to the emissaries. “I cannot stress what an asset the Princess has been. She’s a talented healer. And she’s exceedingly kind.”
“Sauzon, please,” my wife insists, cheeks flaming. “The emissaries must be ready to continue their tour. They’ve heard enough about me.”
I chuckle, brushing a soft kiss to her temple. If possible, her cheeks grow even redder.
“I’ll see you tonight,” I murmur in her ear.
As much as I want to stay by my wife’s side, I lead the emissaries out of the infirmary.
“Your wife is extraordinary,” one of the quieter emissaries says. I narrow my gaze at him, relaxing when there’s no evidence of desire or lust in his face, just admiration.
“She is,” I respond simply.
“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a princess serving her subjects—in any capacity—so closely. Our princess could learn much from her. Think on a visit. Truly.”
“I will,” I promise, and it’s the truth. I’ve always wanted to visit my mother’s homeland. To see it with Mayah would be a dream.
“Have you met Sauzon before?” They’d conversed easily, though the grizzled medic isn’t known to be friendly or forthcoming.
Except with my wife, apparently.
“We haven’t met.” Truth. “He’s worked in your palace for over a decade, yes? Sauzon and our head medic have exchanged letters for years, sharing knowledge and methods.”
Truth.
The man hasn’t lied once, but I can’t shake the uneasy oiliness settling in my gut.