Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Fucking Sura.
On the way back to our room, she’d emerged into the hallway, linked her arm through Mayah’s, and dragged her away for some fucking dance.
It shouldn’t bother me. It doesn’t bother me.
I still love Mayah. I can admit it to myself now, in the solitude of my thoughts. I’m sitting here in this fucking Rebellion camp, iron on my wrists and a target on my back, because I wanted to make sure she’d be safe.
And her friends are miraculously here.
I should be relieved that she won’t be alone when I leave, but Sura’s possessiveness over my wi—fuck, Mayah—grates at me. Her seething hatred does, too, but I deserve that.
I rake a trembling hand through my hair, the iron scraping against my chafed wrists. I have to leave. My heart may still beat for her, but there’s no future for us. I’ll never trust her again.
Tairna’s words flicker through my mind. Shield.
Mayah must be a shield. It’s the only explanation for how she lied to me for months.
And Tairna—her work with the Rebellion is truly impressive. If the Volcans honor the alliance, she’ll be well-poised to install Mayah as queen of the entire realm.
Bitterness and anger war in my chest. After Tairna disappeared, I’d been devastated.
Torn apart. Utterly alone. I’d spent every night desperately praying my mother would return.
Praying that she wasn’t dead as I suspected.
That I’d wake the next morning and she’d be beside my bed, a warm smile on her face.
Every. Fucking. Night. For years.
And Varad—he’d never been a good father. Not a good person, even. The bruises I’d seen on Tairna’s wrists and face, despite her best attempts to conceal them, were evidence enough. His treatment of nonwielders was evidence enough.
But he hadn’t murdered my mother.
I swallow past the shards of glass in my throat, eyes burning.
My mother is alive.
And I’ve never felt more alone.
I lose track of how long I sit on the small sofa. Numb.
Mayah hasn’t returned to the room.
The thought of her dancing with other men—with Tumaas—sends a violent shard of anger through me.
Maybe she won’t come back to the room tonight at all, maybe she’ll—
I’m walking out the door before I finish the thought.
It’s easy enough to find the ramshackle dance hall.
The unique boom of a barrel drum and the lively whistling of wooden flutes drifts through the air.
We had similar instruments on long nights spent huddled around a fire in the frigid wilderness, muscles weary after a day of shedding blood. The music of a people at war.
This beat is livelier, though, undercut with the sound of raucous laughter.
But my presence steals the joy like water steals breath.
Cold eyes pierce me from every direction. Blue, green, hazel, brown—wielders and nonwielders united in their hatred of the Dark Commander.
But then I catch sight of her, and all coherent thought evaporates like mist. A snug blue gown hugs the swell of her chest, the dip in her waist, the flare of her hips.
Loose waves cascade down her back, and fuck me, she’s tinted her lips with rouge.
A glint of light, and my eyes fall to her collarbones where her necklace rests in the hollow between them.
Heat thrums in my veins, and I nearly take a step toward her before mastering myself. I wade through thick silence toward the makeshift bar instead, praying the barkeep doesn’t spit in my drink.
A glass shatters somewhere behind me, followed by a loud cheer, and the room resumes its chatter.
I flag the barkeep. His expression is neutral, eyes more curious than anything else. “We only have mead,” he says, scrubbing a beringed hand across his jaw.
“Mead’ll do fine.”
He pours me a steep glass. I force myself to sip it slowly, scanning the room for any signs of trouble. Condensation drips down my palm to my wrist, sliding uncomfortably between my skin and the iron cuffs.
Again and again, my gaze returns to Mayah. Each time, I find her studying me, worrying her lower lip, eyes quickly averted when they collide with mine.
And then Tairna approaches her with red-rimmed eyes and a tired smile. They sit together at a nearby table, Mayah’s back facing me.
I wish I could hear their low murmurs over the chaos of the room, but I have a strong feeling Mayah is asking Tairna about her mother.
And maybe me.
They talk for nearly forty minutes. At one point, Tairna covers Mayah’s hand with her own. I don’t care to parse the storm of emotions that rips through me.
A tear slides down Tairna’s cheek as she catches my gaze over Mayah’s shoulder. I turn away.
Definitely talking about me.
When Mayah finally rises, her cheeks are wet with tears. My hands clench around the glass, and I fix Tairna with an accusing glare.
Tairna only smiles knowingly at me.
Mayah sucks in a shaky breath, steels her spine, and walks toward me. Determination is etched on her face, tears still drying on her cheeks.
“Mayah!” Tumaas’s muscled arm drops over her shoulders. He spins her around, then pulls her flush to his chest, his hand splayed across her lower back just above the curve of her ass.
My teeth clack together as he sets her hand atop his shoulder, swaying her in time to the music.
Does she want to dance with him? Is he forcing her? With the iron cuffs, I can’t even sense her energy signature.
I slam the glass on the counter before it shatters in my fist.
Mayah stumbles over her feet, but her body seems relaxed when he twirls her. Her eyes catch mine for a brief moment, and then he drags her deeper into the crowd.
In my periphery, I spot Tairna approaching me.
Fuck that.
My boots thud against the wooden floor as I leave the dance hall behind.
I avoid our room. Don’t want to be there in case Mayah doesn’t come back alone.
Down the hall, I find a cramped stairwell that leads to the roof.
It’s smaller than the terrace at the palace, but the sight of dark open sky eases the roiling in my chest. My heavy footsteps trudge toward the edge.
A weary sigh escapes me as I drop to the floor, leaning back against the wooden railing.
The iron shackles feel heavy on my wrists. My heart feels heavier.
I fall asleep alone beneath the stars.