Chapter 58
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Sneering Sura thankfully leaves us alone in a small bedroom, down the hallway from the one she shares with her brother. I search the room and attached washroom, then lock the door before wedging a chair against it.
Mayah watches me quietly, her back pressed against a wall.
All the thoughts I’d held at bay rush in like a violent tidal wave.
My mother is alive. She willingly left me alone. So many times I’d felt her absence, as keenly as any blade.
The first time I killed a man. A woman.
After the first battle I’d won.
When Lev died.
I clench my teeth. On my wedding day. I wish she’d been there, even now, even after my sham of a marriage fell apart.
She could’ve found a way to contact me—maybe not when I was fifteen, but why not when I was older? She could’ve let me know she was all right. Instead, she’s led a fucking Rebellion against me. How many of her men staged attacks, knowing I’d be amongst the soldiers?
And now? She only wants Mayah. I just happened to be there.
My feet wear a path into the threadbare rug, hand tugging at my hair. With a heavy sigh, I slump onto the small sofa, cradling my head in my hands.
Soft footsteps echo in the quiet room as Mayah approaches. She sits beside me, leaving an arm’s length between us.
“Are you all right?” she asks quietly.
No. No, I’m not.
“Do you—do you want a hug?”
I scoff bitterly without bothering to look up. She lost the right to offer me any comfort. “Why would I want that?” is my muffled response.
“You look like you could use a hug.”
I brace my elbows on my knees, leaning back to glare at her. “You forbade me from touching you, remember?”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s never stopped you before.”
I can do nothing but stare at her and swallow down my guilt.
“Look,” she says softly. “It’s been a lot for both of us. With your mother and the rebels and Sura and…” she trails off, grief flashing across her face. I know she’s remembering her father.
I don’t say anything. I lost the right to comfort her, too, after that night in the tent.
Mayah turns her face away. “Maybe I was the one who needed a hug,” she whispers, and the tears in her voice snap the restraint I’ve been struggling to hold onto.
I grab her wrist before she can rise from the sofa and yank her into my lap.
A surprised gasp breaks free, whispering through my hair as I bury my face in her neck.
My arms wrap around her waist, her thighs bracketing my hips, and for a fleeting, foolish moment, I let myself pretend she’s mine. That she was always mine. That everything was real.
One heartbreaking moment.
Then—“This doesn’t change anything.” I remind both myself and her.
“I know,” she whispers. Her nails rake pleasantly against my scalp. When she drags them down my neck to my shoulders, kneading the tension away, I suppress a groan. Despite my constant reminders to myself about her lies, my body relaxes against hers.
Like this is where I belong. In her arms.
She holds me tighter, and I can’t resist the need to skim my nose along her neck, inhaling her rosy scent. Her throat bobs, and it’s all I can do not to suck a bruise into her soft skin. Mark her as mine.
Because she isn’t. She never will be again.
“If I tell you to stay here while I talk to Tairna, would you listen?”
“No.”
Despite myself, my lips twitch. “What if I ask nicely?”
“I’d think about it longer. But I still wouldn’t listen.”
I pull away from her, a deep sigh escaping me. At least she’s being honest, for once.
“Let’s go.”
There are no guards stationed outside Tairna’s office, located one floor above us. My knock reverberates off the scratched wood, torchlight casting looming shadows on the walls.
“Come in,” Tairna’s muffled voice calls through the door.
She doesn’t look surprised to see us. Her office is small and bereft of adornment—not unlike her old chambers in the palace.
A large, battered table dominates the back half of the room, neat stacks of parchment set atop its scratched surface.
Several mismatched chairs are tucked in around it.
A single painting leans against one wall: a field of red-gold lava, with Mother Valca rising above, its dark peak smoking with warning.
Or triumph.
In the sky above the volcano, a jagged lightning bolt cuts through the night-black paint.
My mouth goes dry. That lightning bolt is me—the white paint rises slightly from the canvas, as though someone added it long after the initial painting was completed.
“My son and his beautiful wife,” she greets as we enter. The wide smile on her face is painful to look at. “May the Flames bless your union with eternal happiness.”
I grunt in response, while Mayah shifts on her feet.
“Is your room suitable?” She gestures to the chairs. “Anything you need?”
A beat of silence.
“Our room is lovely,” Mayah says when I don’t respond. “Thank you.”
I manage to tear my gaze from the painting and pull out two chairs. Tairna gazes at us over steepled fingers.
“Tell us your plan.” My gruff voice draws a deep sigh from both women.
“Always so impatient, Vayru.” I remain stone-faced, and her smile slowly dims. “The plan is simple. We attack both Tundrayn and Arbinj on the same day. Obtain control of the capitals at once.”
“You don’t have enough men for that.”
“Oh, but we do.” Her smile returns, though it’s conspiratorial this time. “Tell me, how is that Volcan-Arbinji alliance coming along?” Her dark eyes glitter. “It isn’t. Because they’ve allied with us.”
My lips part with surprise—Tairna’s done well for herself.
“And then?” I ask.
“And then we declare Mayah—and you—rulers over both kingdoms. The people will accept her—the healer princess. She’s already won over the Arbinji citizens.”
I don’t miss the shifting of her gaze when she mentions me. What was her original plan, when it was expected Mayah would marry Faramir?
“And me?” My voice is colder than ice.
“Your reputation in the war … you won’t be well-received in Tundrayn. But at Mayah’s side, I’m certain her people will accept you in time. And—”
“There’s a slight issue with your plan,” Mayah interjects. She glances at me, her eyes haunted. “My people … they—” She takes a shuddering breath. “At the Tundrayni camp, we—”
Her voice chokes off on a gasp, tears welling in her eyes.
Something pulls in my chest. Stupid skiescursed heart.
“That’s where Mayah learned it was Tormik that killed her mother,” I supply.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly. “Tormik and a few men escaped, but the remaining warriors attacked us. Mayah and I managed to protect ourselves.” Her knuckles are white, and I’m certain if she unclenched her fists, her hands would tremble. “The warriors are … gone.”
A look of understanding crosses Tairna’s face. “You think your people won’t accept you as queen because you killed your own warriors?”
Mayah flinches as though Tairna physically struck her. My jaw clenches tight, anger crackling in my chest.
“Hmm,” Tairna muses. “It’s not ideal. But not insurmountable. Once your people learn it was Tormik that murdered Meerah”—Mayah flinches again, and I grit my teeth to cage in the curses blooming on my tongue—“they’ll support you.”
Tairna taps her chin, deep in thought. I’d seen her wear this expression countless times—when she helped me with my studies or when I’d told her of Faramir’s daily cruelty.
And hundreds of other times when I didn’t know what thoughts plagued her mind.
Perhaps she’d been planning her escape—and realizing that I didn’t fit into it.
A pang of grief shoots through my chest.
Tairna sits straighter in her chair, steely resolve etched across her features. “The plan remains unchanged. You rule Arbinj and Tundrayn.”
Mayah worries her lower lip. “Do you expect me to be your puppet?”
“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be left unchecked. We’ll install oversight councils in both kingdoms. I’ll serve on your council in Arbinj, along with my advisers. But I have no doubt you’ll be honorable, good monarchs. Sauzon speaks so highly of you, Mayah.”
Another impossible surprise.
“You know Sauzon?” Mayah asks, brows knit together.
Tairna nods. “I have spies in both palaces. Sauzon is one of them.”
It can’t be.
I’d questioned Sauzon thoroughly when Mayah began healing in the infirmary. I’d asked him point-blank if he had any ties to the Rebellion. There were no prickles.
What the fuck is wrong with my truthwielding?
Tairna seems to understand my internal conflict. Her eyes flicker as she glances at me, dipping her chin slightly. I raise my brows in silent question.
“Sauzon is a shield.” Tairna answers my unspoken question, though I remain just as confused.
“A shield?” Mayah repeats.
“It’s a unique wielding capability,” she explains.
“We’ve only recently learned of it. They are impervious to the effects of heart- and truthwielders.
Most shields are assumed to be nonwielders their entire lives.
We only learned of them last year. There was a new recruit—she was hysterical after enduring severe trauma.
One of our heartwielders tried to calm her, but his power wouldn’t work. After that, we began testing everyone.”
My breath escapes my lungs. My mind reels with this new information.
A shield.
Is that what Mayah is? Does she somehow possess a third wielding capability?
And, fuck—Sulon. Shielding must’ve been his second affinity. I’d relied blindly on my truthwielding my entire life. How many lies went undetected? What other atrocities did Sulon commit under my nose?
Tairna’s eyes brim with a sad understanding, lips twisted as she watches me process this revelation. She cuts her gaze to Mayah. “As I said, Mayah, I have no doubt you’d be an incredible queen. I want someone who cares for both wielders and nonwielders alike. A better world for all of us.”
“But how can you trust us so quickly?”
“I told you I’ve had spies in both Tundrayn and Arbinj. I know you’ve been fighting for nonwielders for years. And from what Sauzon tells me, I know you’re a kind, good person.” She gives me a faint smile. “And I already know my son’s heart.”
Her words stoke the simmering embers of rage in my chest.
She knows my heart? After abandoning me? After not setting eyes on me for over half my life?
“What do you think, Zev?” Mayah asks softly, turning to me. “You don’t want to rule.” She doesn’t mention that our marriage is a farce.
“Zev…” Tairna repeats, a soft smile on her lips. “No one’s called you that since—”
“Lev,” I grit out.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “I was very sorry to hear of his death.”
“Were you?” I snap, leaning forward. “Did you also hear of my father’s reaction?”
The blood drains from Tairna’s stricken face. She shakes her head.
“He said Lev must’ve been a worthless wielder if he managed to get himself frozen.
” My voice cracks. “Wouldn’t let me attend his funeral.
Couldn’t risk the kingdom seeing their commander weep like a pathetic girl.
” Rage burns inside me, hot and violent.
If not for the iron cuffs, there’d be a storm gathering above us.
“He mocked Lev in every council meeting for two months, calling him frozen fucking dirt, until I could get through without showing any emotion.”
Twin tears slide down her cheeks.
“I’m so sor—”
“Spare me your useless apologies. You’ve done a great job with the Rebellion. Well fucking done, Tairna.” She flinches. “Tell me, how did I fit into your grand plan if I hadn’t married Mayah and fallen into your lap along with her? Were you planning to kill me, too?”
“Vayru, please, of course not!” With the iron, I can’t even sense if she’s lying. “I-I am truly sorry for what you’ve endured. Without me there to support you. But Varad’s cruelty is exactly why we need to—”
I slam my fists against the worn surface of the table. Both women jump at the harsh clack of iron against wood.
The chair nearly tumbles backward when I shoot up and storm toward the door. Mayah’s soft footsteps echo behind me.
I don’t spare a glance for the painting.