Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
Skies, how did I find myself here?
Riding a stolen horse, my unconscious, traitor of a wife slumped in front of me. She groans lightly, shifting against my chest. Every jostling step sends shockwaves of pain through my bruised body. I grit my teeth at how right she still feels in my arms, even after all she’s done.
All she planned to do.
An unwelcome flicker of guilt wavers in my chest. Her father was a stormwielder. He murdered her mother, then used that to manipulate her. She thought she was seeking revenge on her mother’s killers when it had been her father all along. She—
No. I refuse to let the walls around my heart crumble. She could’ve achieved her goals without making me fall in love with her. All the lies she told me—that somehow slipped past my useless truthwielding.
That she’d miss me. That she wanted me.
The love in her eyes that I swore I saw—it was all an act. She was aching for her captain all along. Not me. Never me. She fell right back into his arms the moment I left.
Mayah groans again, low and pained. Another wave of guilt crashes through me—I struck her hard with the iron cuff.
But I had no choice.
With my reserves dry and body ravaged, I couldn’t risk her turning on me again.
After she fainted, I checked for survivors.
There were none, though the general and his woman weren’t among the dead.
They must’ve escaped soon after Tormik fled.
I gathered whatever supplies I could find, along with a smaller set of iron shackles, before saddling one horse and freeing the rest.
Now, after an hour of riding, I’m still struggling to answer the same question: what do I do now?
I thought I’d die in that camp.
But perhaps I can use that to my advantage. My father doesn’t know what happened. Maybe I can disappear. Leave the continent like I’ve always dreamed but never dared hope.
Mayah nestles deeper into my chest, her iron cuffs glinting in the sunlight. I swallow past the tightness in my throat.
And what about her?
She’s not my concern. She’s not. She made her choices. Her father may have deceived her, but she still chose the captain. Not me. It’s not my concern she has no home. No father. Likely no one who will take her in. Not my concern she has no one who cares for her—not after I killed the man she loved.
But looking down at her slight form, something tight still cinches around my chest.
Mayah lets out a soft moan, shifting in the saddle. The electric currents around her pulse wildly—she’s awake. And has realized her hands are bound.
Mayah pivots in the saddle and fixes me with a fierce glare.
“Oh, good,” I drawl. “You’re awake.”
“You hit me,” she snarls. “Hard.”
“I did.” Guilt rises again in my chest, but I ignore it and smirk at her. She has her masks. I have mine. “Want me to kiss the pain away?”
She swallows hard, her eyes flickering briefly before they hollow out. “W-were all the men … dead?”
I’m not the only one struggling with guilt, it seems.
“Yes.”
A broken laugh escapes her, drenched with loathing. I recognize that self-hatred in her eyes. It grates at me that she’s racked with guilt for killing Tundraynis but was planning a massacre in Arbinj.
Under my nose. In my skiesdamned bed.
“It was you or them,” I snap. The horse whinnies as I inadvertently tug too roughly on the reins. “And since when has killing bothered you? You were plotting to murder hundreds in Arbinj.”
Her mouth opens and closes before she finally huffs, “Where are we going?” and turns back in the saddle. Her arms tremble, and she tries to cross them before remembering her wrists are bound.
I don’t respond. The less I tell her, the better.
“Were we followed?”
“No.” The word is forced through gritted teeth. I don’t remind her that was no one left to follow us.
“Where are we?”
I don’t bother answering. When she shifts and her elbow jabs into my still-broken ribs, I know it isn’t an accident.
“In Rebellion territory.” My teeth snap together.
“I’m hungry.”
“You’ll have to wait until we stop.”
“Tell me where we’re going.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to remember the last time we traveled alone together through the woods.
“Did the Tides take your tongue, or have you taken a vow of silence?” she snaps.
I tighten my arm banded around her waist, pulling her back harder against my chest. Her breath catches, and her energy signature pulses, reaching out as though searching for me.
It’s thrummed like this before when she was in my arms.
I swallow a scoff. Maybe she can manipulate that, too.
We ride in tense silence for two hours before we come across a suitable clearing, far enough away from the graveyard that is the Tundrayni camp.
I dismount, then hoist an indignant Mayah off the mare, even as my ribs protest. My vision swims, and it’s all I can do to keep my gait steady as I grab the stolen satchel and sit cross-legged on the grass, retrieving a few strips of dried meat and a loaf of stale bread.
Mayah holds up her bound wrists.
The last time I’d restrained her, Sulon had nearly…
I say nothing as I slice through the rope with a dagger.
I don’t remove the iron cuffs.
Wordlessly, I hand her the dried meat, ignoring the tingle in my fingers where my skin brushes hers.
We eat in stilted silence. The meat is chewy and tasteless—I’m not even certain what animal I’m eating.
But it serves its purpose well enough as my power thrums inside me, my reserves replenishing quickly with each bite.
My gaze snags on Mayah more often than I care to admit. Her eyes are unfocused, fixed on a patch of grass as she chews slowly. Shimmering tears limn her eyes before she blinks them away, only for them to return moments later.
I’m overcome by the fierce urge to comfort her, followed by a fiercer wave of self-loathing.
I’m a useless. Fucking. Idiot. Still enamored with the cunning waterwielder after she’s shown me her true colors again and again.
Still, nothing I tell myself soothes the ache in my heart. Not when hopelessness and regret twist her pale face. She swallows thickly, cutting her blue eyes to me. I avert my gaze, schooling my expression into boredom.
Despite everything, I find myself saying, “If you keep blaming yourself, you’ll never move forward.” I don’t look at her. “You helped me kill them. To save yourself. Make your peace with it.”
“Where do we go from here?” she whispers, her voice thick with tears.
Skies, the ache in my heart is worse than the torture I endured.
It wasn’t real. None of it was real.
I repeat the words in my mind until I trust myself to speak.
“I’m not going back to Arbinj. My father will assume either Tormik or the rebels killed me.”
“Where will you go?”
“Volca, maybe. Or beyond.”
Her eyes seem to ask What about me?
What about you, indeed. I could leave her here in the forest. Give her the supplies and the horse, even.
And leave her to the mercy of the rebels or Arbinj or Tundrayn.
Whoever finds her first.
Dread curdles my stomach.
“I don’t know what to do with you. But I’ll figure it out.”
She scoffs. “So I’m your prisoner again? What about what I want?”
The audacity of this woman to think I care about what she wants.
“Why did you knock me out?” she continues. “We worked together. We—” She sucks in a sharp gasp, evidently unable to say we killed all those Tundraynis.
“I didn’t trust you not to attack me when I was weakened.” I gesture to her iron-shackled wrists. “I still don’t.”
“I healed you every night.” She has the nerve to sound offended.
“I still don’t know why.” I force ice into my voice. “And I don’t care.”
She grits her teeth. “It’s stupid to leave me cuffed. What if rebels attack us?”
I study her closely. The stubborn tilt of her jaw. The defiance blazing in her pretty blue eyes.
The last time I left her defenseless, she was attacked by six men. I won’t let her out of my sight now, but I’m still not at my full strength. And if the rebels find us…
I shift closer to her on the grass. Mayah gasps sharply when I fist my hand in her hair, yanking her head back.
Good. She should be afraid of me.
“If you attack me,” I whisper, “I will kill you. If you betray me, I will kill you. And if you try to run…” My disobedient eyes fall to her parted lips before I manage to tear them away.
Her hooded gaze twists something in my chest. Despite myself, I reach for her cheek before I realize what I’m doing. I quickly grab her jaw instead.
“I’ll let you go.”
She says nothing as I uncuff the iron bracelets.
I was careful not to shackle them too tightly, but there are still faint lines on her wrists.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve left marks on her, either with rope or with iron or both.
Her hold on me somehow grows stronger each time, as though I’m her prisoner.
I force my gaze away.
“I’ll heal you. As a truce.”
I’ll heal you. In exchange for a truce. As long as you promise not to break it within seconds.
My mouth tastes like ash. What I wouldn’t give to go back and tell that na?ve version of myself not to fall in love. To trust nothing—not her innocent face, not her pretty eyes, not a word that comes out of her lying mouth, truthwielding be damned.
“Heal yourself first.” My voice is rough. “I’ve survived this long.”
Her face pinches with irritation, but she says nothing as she summons a warm glow to her palms, wincing as her fingers touch the back of her skull.
Guilt rears up again, battering my conscience, and I tear my gaze away until she’s finished. Her breath shudders as she scoots closer to me. A beat of hesitation, and then her soft hands bracket my neck. Goosebumps erupt across my skin when her thumbs skim down my throat.
Her eyes collide with mine, wide and uncertain and utterly breathtaking. She’s so skiesdamned close, and I can’t fucking think with her touching me. A shaky breath fans across my lips. Anguish clouds her eyes. When her brows draw together, I’m overcome by the urge to smooth the crease between them.
To bury my face in her neck and breathe her in until I forget everything else.
To tangle my fingers in her hair, see if it’s as soft as I remember.
To crush her to my chest and never let go.
“Zev…” she whispers softly.
The sound of her pleading voice snaps me out of my skiesdamned trance.
“Heal me quickly,” I bite out. “Then stop touching me. And don’t call me Zev.”
She scowls but doesn’t say another word. Her power flows through me, cool and soothing, and my pain slowly eases with every passing heartbeat. I swallow hard when her shaking fingers unbutton my shirt. I should stop her—should do it myself.
But I can only watch, gaze riveted as she bares my ravaged chest, button by button. A sharp gasp escapes her as she surveys the damage her people did. Fresh tears line her eyes.
It takes several minutes as she works on the still-bleeding and half-scabbed gashes.
There’s nothing to be done for the deep lines that bastard carved across my chest. The scabs melt away into thick, white scars.
She passes her glowing hands over them, again and again, a hysterical sort of determination setting her jaw, but she can’t erase them.
Her fingers on my bare skin shred my self-restraint, and I grab fistfuls of grass to keep from touching her.
The hopeless, desperate expression on her face tugs at my heartstrings. My body doesn’t seem to remember—or care—about her betrayal. Her plan.
Her lover.
The pale sliver of skin on her ring finger mocks me as her hands mend my wounds.
Hands that plotted to murder me.
Hands that clutched the captain’s shoulders while he kissed her. While she was still wearing my fucking ring.
“Leave them,” I growl, batting her away. I jump to my feet, stalking toward the mare to avoid looking at her.
Distance. I need distance.
The mare nickers softly as I feed her an apple from my satchel. I couldn’t find a brush back at the camp, so I make do with my hand. For several blissful minutes, I pretend I’m alone.
And then the sky darkens overhead, thunder drumming in the distance. My eyes slice to Mayah—she’s already looking at me, panic and fear warring in her gaze. Fuck.
Maybe it’ll pass quickly. Maybe it won’t be loud.
Maybe she won’t have a panic attack.
Maybe for once, just this once, the Skies will have mercy on me.