Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
Ihate this fucking terrace.
I hate the rickety wooden railing that nearly gave out two nights ago when I leaned against it.
I hate the stone floor and its wretched cold that seeps into my bones even through the thick blanket I managed to scrounge.
I hate that there’s no washroom, and I need to wait to bathe when I’m certain Mayah is with her friends.
But most of all, I hate the way I’ve tortured myself this past week. After the dance, I’ve taken care to avoid Mayah at every turn. Fucking Tumaas can’t keep his paws off her, and I just know one of these days, shackles or not, I’m going to throttle him.
At night, I creep through the hallway like a ghost, listening to ensure Mayah is safely ensconced in the room, then head up to the terrace to sleep.
Which is where I find myself now, sitting cross-legged on cold stone and cursing the terrace for being a terrace instead of a bedroom.
The door leading inside creaks open. Instantly, I’m on my feet, knees bent and ready. It’s jarring having to rely on my sense of hearing—I’m accustomed to energy signatures making themselves known far in advance.
It’s Tairna. The fading sunlight highlights the white streaks in her hair, a small wicker basket clutched in her hand. My shoulders drop slightly as she approaches, and I sit back down on my blanket.
“Can I join you?” she asks tentatively.
I shrug.
A quiet exhale, and then she sits across from me, her knees brushing mine. For a few heartbeats, we stare at each other in silence.
Then she clears her throat. “I spoke to the camp today about you and Mayah. Everyone is under strict orders to respect you.”
“You can’t command respect.”
And I don’t want theirs.
She sighs. “No. But regardless, I hope it’ll make you feel safer here.”
It doesn’t.
Another heavy sigh. Her hand trembles slightly as she lifts the basket lid. “Mushroom stew? I made it myself in the kitchens. Just the way you like.”
Her face—so familiar, yet so vastly different from the mother I remember—looks so anguished, so hopeful, that I can’t bring myself to refuse. Tairna pours the stew from a mason jar into two mismatched bowls, handing me my portion.
She watches with bated breath as I try a spoonful. It’s hot and savory and perfectly seasoned and exactly the way I like it.
“It’s good.”
Tairna looses a relieved breath. “Remember that time you were ill? A nasty head cold. You refused bowl after bowl from the kitchens. It wasn’t until I headed down there and made it myself that you ate anything in days.”
“I remember.”
Her smile wavers, eyes welling with tears.
“Forgive me, Vayru. Please forgive me. I—I didn’t want to leave you.
But I couldn’t bear living in fear of Varad and his moods.
His swinging fists. His cruel words. He—he thought I was nothing.
That I was worth nothing.” Twin tears slide down her cheeks, her fingers absently rubbing her wrist. “I agonized for months about how to take you with me. Prayed to the Flames to show me the path. But I came up empty. There was no foreseeable way Varad would’ve stomached it.
He’d have sent soldiers, even come after me himself.
And you’d have witnessed him murder me. He’d have dragged you back. I—I tried to spare you that.”
My throat constricts. “I thought you dead by his hand anyway.”
Tairna shakes her head, shuddering sobs racking her frame.
“I was weak, Vayru. I’m so sorry. Not a moment passed when you weren’t on my mind, in my heart, in my soul.
I had my men in the palace tell me of you.
Your personality, your struggles. Your victories, even when they were against the Rebellion.
I sobbed for weeks when Lev died, knowing what it would do to you.
I w-wanted to come to the capital, but I couldn’t risk it.
Pl-please, Vayru. Even if you hadn’t married Mayah, the plan was never to harm you.
I’d have ensured every man, every woman, every general here knew you were to be left untouched.
I swear it. I swear it by the Flames and by Mother Valca.
By my heart and my body and my soul. I swear it by you, Vayru.
And when you are unencumbered by iron, I will tell you all of this again so you can be certain I speak the truth. ”
A shuddering sob cleaves my throat, and when Tairna pulls me into her embrace, I let her. I’m so fucking tired of being alone. She holds me for what feels like hours as I weep, years and years of pain breaking free from where I’d kept it barricaded inside my chest.
When I draw back, Tairna cradles my face in her hands, wiping away my tears.
“Listen to me, Vayru.” Her voice is stern, yet splintered with grief.
“You are a good man. They tried to turn you into a monster—they failed miserably. Because I know, I know the heart that beats inside your chest wants peace. Wants relief from everything you’ve been made to do. I want that for you.”
“You don’t want me to stay and fight with you?”
“I won’t lie and say we couldn’t use you. Your knowledge of battle, of the Arbinji armies. It’s unparalleled.” She sniffles, wiping her cheeks with the hem of her dress. “But it’s your choice.”
“And Mayah?”
“She won’t see battle. We’ll keep her safe, far removed from danger. And when the dust settles, she’ll be queen.”
I curse the iron on my wrists as I ask, “You have no ill intentions toward her?”
“None.”
“And you’ll do everything in your power to ensure she remains unharmed?”
“I swear it.”
“And when she’s queen, you’ll ensure she’s protected from all threats? Internal and external?”
Tairna huffs in mock exasperation, and the familiar sound tugs at my lips. “Yes, Vayru, I will.” She studies me with narrowed eyes. “So much concern for your wife. Tell me, then, why have you spent every night up here instead of in the room with her? What happened between you two?”
“Nothing. We’re not … anything.”
She clicks her tongue. “I don’t need to be a truthwielder to know that’s a lie.
You love her. It’s written clear as the Flames on your face.
And Sauzon told me how much you care for her.
You threatened to lash him, apparently.” She chuckles lightly.
“And she loves you, Vayru. So why are you up here?”
“She doesn’t love me, she—” The words die in my throat.
I don’t know what to say. What words could possibly express the chasm between us? Broken trust. Political schemes. A marriage that was never truly a marriage—not to her at least.
“Vayru,” Tairna murmurs. “You can tell me.”
So I do.
The words spill from my lips. I tell her about the journey back from Tundrayn and the rebel attack on our entourage.
How we traveled alone through the frozen tundra.
Tairna flashes a knowing look when I tell her we had to share my cloak for warmth.
I tell her it was the longest I’ve ever gone in my life without my neck prickling.
“I thought she never lied,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
“When we arrived at the palace, you already know that my father proposed she marry me in the hopes that she’d call off the alliance.
He was furious when we agreed to marry each other.
” I swallow hard, and Tairna squeezes my hand.
I find the strength to tell her about leaving for the border and coming back to find her with another man.
“He—he was her friend. Her lover. They were planning to poison everyone at the Equinox Festival. I think … I think she was always planning to return to him.”
“Oh, Vayru,” Tairna whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
“I killed him. Right in front of her. And she attacked me.” My voice splinters, unwilling to speak Mayah’s secret—one she’s guarded her entire life.
But I can’t bear the pain alone any longer.
Tairna’s soft eyes, her hand clasped in mine, coax me to reveal the truth.
“She’s a waterwielder, too. That’s when I realized my truthwielding didn’t work on her.
That she’d been lying the entire time. That nothing between us had been real.
” I manage to tell her about taking her captive, then becoming her captive in the Tundrayni camp.
About how Mayah learned it was Tormik that killed her mother, not Arbinj.
Tairna doesn’t speak for several minutes, her face etched with contemplation.
“From what I’ve seen from her, Vayru, she cares for you.
Deeply. Yes, she came to Arbinj with the intent to overthrow the kingdom.
But is it possible she still developed feelings for you?
Mayah believed Arbinj was responsible for Meerah’s death—she wanted revenge.
Now, I’m certain she feels differently. She’s hurting for you, Vayru.
And I can see you ache for her. Is there any way you can forgive her? ”
My eyes burn, but I blink back the tears. “No. And even if I could, I can never trust her again. I’ll pull her close, only to push her away when I remember what she did. I’ll—I’ll spend every second wondering if I’ll return to find her with someone else, I—fucking Skies.”
I angrily wipe the fresh tears that have escaped. Tairna rubs my shoulder, and despite myself, I lean into her comfort.
“She must be a shield,” Tairna says, more to herself than to me.
“I’ve considered that. But she already has two wielding affinities. It’s impossible to have three.”
“Faraehzon had all of them,” she points out with a small smile. “Or have you forgotten your favorite bedtime story?”
“Faerahzar,” I respond, my lips twitching, “is a children’s tale.”
“Hmm,” Tairna muses. “Well, then the alternative is that she never lied to you. Things were real.”
“Impossible. She’s a waterwielder. Who was planning a violent coup. And I spent months with her and had no idea.” Bitterness coats every syllable.
Tairna sighs. “Just think on it, Vayru. Yes, she made mistakes. Big ones. Horrible ones. But you love her still. That must count for something.”
It doesn’t.
It doesn’t. It doesn’t. It doesn’t.
For a truthwielder, I tell an astounding number of lies.