Chapter 61
Chapter Sixty-One
Clang!
It’s been two days since Tairna removed Mayah’s iron cuffs.
Since then, she’s spent long hours healing in the infirmary.
On her first day, there was a line snaking through the doors, down the dirt path almost to the armory.
I grit my teeth, remembering the shallow cuts I’m certain some curious rebels carved into their own palms just for a chance to talk to her.
Clang!
We’ve only spoken a handful of times since the dance—always in council meetings with Tairna and her advisers, Rycken and Lyzza.
Tairna’s plan is solid—I’ve only had a few comments about the positioning of soldiers around the capital and which entrances at the palace are the least guarded.
Once the Volcans arrive, they’ll be ready to launch their attack.
Clang!
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I set aside the glowing sword I’ve just hammered out, frowning at the slightly uneven blade.
Tairna asked me to help in the forge today.
Yesterday, it was the armory. The day before, the cafeteria.
She means for the people to see me as a man—a helpful one, no less—instead of the Dark Commander.
I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s futile.
I don’t plan to stay.
“What about here?” I ask, pointing to the map unfurled across Tairna’s scratched table. “If we can take this base, it has enough room to house over half the Volcan soldiers.”
Rycken squints his eyes, studying the map. “Very good, Zevayr.”
I don’t bother concealing my eyeroll. The man must be only ten years my senior and thinks himself a master strategist.
“Lyzza, will you arrange for a few earthwielders to be sent there as well?” Tairna asks, turning to the dark-haired woman sitting across from her. “The Volcans will need to be fed, of course.”
“When do they arrive?” I ask.
“They—”
The door flings open with a loud creak. Mayah strides in, panting as though she’d ran the entire way here. A loose braid tames her hair, though several strands have escaped and frame her flushed face.
I suddenly find the map riveting.
“Mayah,” Tairna greets. “Another late shift at the infirmary?”
“Yeah,” she laughs, but it’s forced. “Tumaas needs to keep a better eye on wayward children in the forge.”
In my periphery, she crosses the small room, heading toward the open chair by Rycken. Before I can stop myself, I yank out the chair beside me with a low grunt. Mayah’s footsteps falter, and then she changes her trajectory, settling down beside me instead.
“The Volcans arrive this week,” Tairna says. “We need to be ready to attack.”
“We—Arbinj has a base near the coast,” I say, pointing to a different spot on the map, the first one the Volcans will encounter when they make land. “There are at least a thousand men stationed. Will the Volcans have enough soldiers?”
“They should,” Lyzza supplies. “But we can send reinforcements from another rebel camp.”
“And this base?” Tairna asks, pointing further inland.
I scratch my jaw. “Five hundred men. No. Less after the last Rebellion attack. Four hundred.”
Tairna stares at me blankly, then glances at her advisers. Rycken shrugs one shoulder, while Lyzza shakes her head. “We didn’t attack that base,” Tairna says slowly, turning back to me.
A beat.
“That can’t be.” I study the map again. I’m certain Jeyzar reported that base was one of several that were attacked. It propelled me to leave the palace and head to the border. “There were at least three attacks on Arbinji bases within the last month. Armored nonwielders. It looked like Rebellion…”
My heart stutters. Of course.
It was Tundrayn.
My gaze slices sideways into Mayah, hand clenching into a tight fist on the table. I turn away from her so quickly, the joints in my neck crack.
Tundrayn staged those attacks to lure me away from the palace—so Mayah could have more freedom to enact their plan with her captain’s help.
Tairna waits for an explanation, but I’m preoccupied with steadying my breathing.
She drops to her knees, cradles his head in her lap.
Blue eyes, frosted with rage.
“My father staged those attacks,” Mayah whispers. “To draw Zev away from the palace. So that I could…”
Understanding dawns on Tairna’s face. “That’s in the past,” she says firmly.
“We’re all on the same side now.” She casts her stern gaze around the table, but it settles longest on me.
She clears her throat, then adds, “Yes, the Volcans will have enough soldiers. I’ll send a message to my men in both palaces. They’ll be ready.”
I keep my eyes fixed on the map.
Eyes closed, her hand clutching the captain’s shoulder, betrothal ring sparkling in the torchlight, his mouth moving over hers.
I barely register Tairna concluding the meeting. When I move to rise, Tairna rests a hand on my shoulder. “Stay a moment.”
Rycken and Lyzza rise from their seats, chairs scraping against the wooden floor, and quietly file from the room. Mayah lingers for a moment, then exits as well.
A soft click. Tairna doesn’t hesitate before turning to me.
“The staged attacks,” she starts, tapping her fingers on the table. “Mayah couldn’t have been involved. You told me she wrote no letters and none came for me. That must’ve all been Tormik’s doing.”
“I’m sure it was. They grew desperate when she didn’t make contact with the captain. I kept her on too tight of a leash for assassination, it seems.”
She huffs an exasperated sigh, the same one she’s exhaled each of the three times we’ve had this conversation. I can’t fathom why she keeps insisting I forgive Mayah.
“Vayru, please. Tormik has been manipulating her since she was a child. Even the storms in Tundrayn—he was weaponizing her fear, exacerbating her hatred for Arbinj.”
Her hand covers mine on the table. “You ache for her, Vayru.”
“I do no such thing.”
Her lips twitch. “Why didn’t you let her sit next to Rycken, then?”
Because my foolish heart refuses to accept she isn’t mine.
Tairna’s dark gaze searches my face. “You’re being cruel to yourself. To yourself and to her.”
I know. Skies, I know.
That’s why I need to leave as soon as I’m certain she’ll be safe.
“How many longswords?” Saakar asks, his gruff voice echoing in the quiet of the armory.
“Fifty-six.”
His quill scratches against the parchment as he jots it down, dark blue eyes narrowed in concentration. “And daggers?”
I scan the large drawer, then the one below it, counting quickly. “Hundred and seven.”
Saakar manages the armory with an iron fist. We’ve counted inventory four times in the three weeks since Tairna assigned me here.
For the first week, Saakar was Skies-bent on torturing me.
I cleaned rusted blades until they shone, oiling swords and daggers, stacking shields, then restacking them since I somehow did it incorrectly.
I spent every moment on guard, certain that any movement behind me was Saakar ready to skewer me.
He’s warmed up to me, I think. This afternoon, when I made three trips to the forge, hauling back fresh batches of swords, he’d actually used my name. It was to tell me to hurry the fuck up, but still an improvement over “you” or “boy.”
Saakar scans the parchment, lanternlight glinting off his white stubble. “Arrows next.”
I rise to my feet, heading toward the cabinet that houses the skiesdamned iron-coated arrows, when a loud rumble of thunder rattles the room, quickly bleeding into the next powerful boom.
A storm. And from the sound of that thunder, a monstrous one.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Mayah.
“Where are you—”
Saakar’s words cut off as I bolt from the room, emerging into the dark, brisk night. My booted feet slap against the ground as I run through the quiet camp, uncaring of the strange looks flashed my way from the handful of rebels still working.
Another loud thunderclap.
The heavy door of our building squeaks as I fling it open and take the steps three at a time until I reach the fourth floor. Torchlights flicker behind me as I rush down the hall.
Except our room is empty.
“Mayah?”
There’s no sign of her in the room. The washroom is empty, too.
Skies, I should’ve checked the infirmary first. Perhaps she stayed for another shift, and now with the storm, she’ll be terrified and—
My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of her cowering alone. Or worse, with a patient nearby. I stride back down the hallway, when a sudden thought occurs to me—maybe she’s with Tumaas.
They certainly looked cozy in the cafeteria, eating lunch together, his arm slung over her shoulders while Sura glared at me. Maybe they’re—
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
My fists bangs on the door before I can think better of it. Skies, these fucking shackles. Without them, I’d be able to sense her through the door, then be on my way.
A brief moment where my heart pounds in my throat instead of my chest.
Then—the door opens. Sura’s open face shutters as soon as she sees me standing in the corridor. Her blue eyes frost with icy hatred before I can blink.
“Here to finish the job?” she snarls.
I struggle to keep my face neutral.
“Is Mayah with you?”
She leans against the doorway, casually examining her nails.
I resist the urge to barge past her into the darkened bedroom.
“Yes,” she finally deigns to say. “Anything else?”
I scan over her head, but she’s kept the door barely ajar, blocking the view.
“You can go now,” she hisses. “Terrorize someone else.”
Behind her, the mattress squeaks, then soft footsteps approach the door.
“It’s all right, Sura,” a soft voice murmurs. Her voice. I loose the breath I’d kept caged in my chest since the armory. Sura casts me one last icy glare before shoving back from the door frame and stomping inside.
In her place, stands Mayah—
—in a ridiculously short nightgown.
My disobedient eyes drop to the bare skin of her thighs, and I clench my fists at my sides, lest I do something incredibly stupid.
Like throw her over my shoulder and march back down the hall.
“I came here because of the storm. I didn’t think you’d notice,” she says, her lips twisting in a petulant pout. It tugs at my heart.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
For all I know, Tumaas is in there with her and Sura is on her way out. My lips press into a grim line, but I can’t stop the words that spill over. “It’s just the two of you?”
She stares at me for a painful beat before muttering, “Yes.”
I don’t know if I respond. Just know that I can’t stand there a moment longer with her in that skiesdamned nightgown. When the door to our chambers slams shut behind me, I let myself lean back against it.
I linger in the shower, letting the hot water soothe the ache in my muscles.
Nothing will soothe the ache in my heart.
Not while I stay here.
I fall asleep on the bed, wrapped in frost and winter rose.