Chapter 67
Chapter Sixty-Seven
She’s alive. She’s alive.
No signs of injury that I can see. Each pounding footstep draws me closer to her.
A handful of Arbinji soldiers band tightly together, fighting against the rebels. A few of them begin shouting when they see me. I don’t spare them a second glance.
Mayah. I need to reach Mayah.
Her face is anguished when she sees me, tears brimming in her eyes, shoulders shaking with what I assume to be relief.
Five more strides, and I can almost touch her, ground myself with her presence, with the irrefutable proof that she’s all right.
“Thanks for not dying,” a deep voice rumbles, and I’m forced to tear my gaze to find it. Tumaas. A petite blond woman stands behind him, crossbow drawn and ready. Tumaas jerks his head toward Mayah. “She’s been driving herself—and us—insane.”
I flick my gaze back to Mayah’s desperate face, her eyes brimming with an emotion I refuse to name.
“We need to find Sura,” Tumaas says, glancing between us.
“She’s in the children’s tent.” I don’t bother looking at him. My gaze rakes over Mayah, narrowing at the small cuts marring her face. “There’s a safe room dug beneath the floor.”
“You saw her?” Mayah breathes.
“Yeah. I went there first. I thought you might—” I don’t bother finishing the sentence, instead gesturing toward Tumaas. “Go check on her and the kids. They were fine when I left, but that could’ve changed. Stay with them.”
A muscle feathers in his cheek, but he eventually says, “Tides protect you.” Then he and the blond woman dart off.
Mayah raises her glowing hands toward the bleeding gashes on my face. Her hands tremble in my grasp when I pull them down to her sides.
“Save your reserves. You’ll need them.” I cradle her face, tilting her chin to inspect the cuts along her jaw.
“I’m fine,” she whispers, wide eyes tracking my face. “It’s—it’s Arbinj.”
I nod. “They’re here to rescue me.”
She looks stricken. “Do—do you want to be rescued?”
I tear my gaze away. No.
“Even if I return with them, they won’t let anyone here live. So, no, I don’t want to be rescued.” I sheathe my sword. “How are your reserves?”
“Low,” she admits, chewing her lower lip.
“Let’s fix that.”
We run through the camp, stopping and helping where we can, killing any Arbinji soldiers on the way. By the time we reach the kitchens, I feel the sucking drain on my reserves, but the well of my power runs deeper than most.
It’s chaos at the kitchens, wielders hoping to scrounge whatever they can to replenish their reserves. I cut through the crowd, snagging two loaves of bread and three apples, and return to Mayah.
“Eat.” I hand the food toward her. She tears a loaf of bread in half and gives it to me. We eat quickly, and I stash the rest of the food in a deep pocket in my pilfered cloak.
“What now?” she asks.
“We find my mother.”
It’s raining harder when we leave the kitchens, darting through the narrow alleys between still-standing buildings. We round a corner, and a frigid wave of water crashes into us, sending Mayah staggering backward into me.
She’s barely regained her balance when another wave swirls up to our thighs and fucking freezes.
Waterwielders.
Three blue-and-white fur-clad warriors stand before us, faces twisted with hatred.
In tandem, they raise their arms—water rises from the ground, forming serrated ice spears. In the next heartbeat, they send them careening toward us.
Mayah stomps her foot and raises a wall of ice to deflect their attacks, before quickly melting the ice around our legs.
“I don’t want to hurt you!” she shouts, hands raising in surrender.
I do very much want to hurt them, but I let Mayah lead. They’re her people, after all.
A glinting ice spear hurtles toward us.
“Traitor!”
“Arbinji whore!”
The sky rumbles. The red of rage blurs my vision at their vicious words. I raise a hand. Lightning crashes into both of them, their bodies hitting the muddy ground with muted thuds.
Mayah stiffens beside me, eyes fixed on the third warrior. Her hand wavers before she sends two ice spears in quick succession at the woman. The waterwielder melts the first one, but the second one finds its target in her abdomen. Mayah exhales a sharp gasp when the woman hits the ground.
“Are you all right?” I ask. Her eyes don’t move from the dead bodies, guilt twisting her features, and I know she’s thinking of the dead waterwielders we left in another camp.
Her nod is jerky and unpersuasive, but I don’t press her on it. I sense a large tangle of signatures pulsing faintly in the distance—whether they’re Arbinji soldiers or rebels, I couldn’t say.
I lace our hands together. “C’mon.”
Luckily for us, it’s the rebels. They’ve erected a makeshift command center, wielders and nonwielders gathered in the small room. When I spot Tairna standing at the front giving orders, relief surges through me, along with a brief pang of guilt that she only crossed my mind after I found Mayah.
Her voice is steady as she assigns one team to dig out survivors. One team assigned to defend the east side of camp, and another to the west side.
“One more team to patrol the perimeter,” I call. “I’ll lead.”
She freezes, wide eyes finding me in the crowd. Then she quickly carves a path through her rebels and barrels into me, arms wrapping me in an iron-tight embrace. I find Mayah’s face over Tairna’s head, watching us with despondent, wistful eyes.
Tairna, with some magical maternal instinct, releases me and turns to her, pulling Mayah into her arms next. She cradles her face with gentle hands before yanking me in the hug along with them.
So I hold them. The only two people who matter to me.
My mother and my wife. Arms locked around them, I hold them as though it might be the last time.
Because it might very well be.
One minute is all Tairna allows us. Then she pulls back, wipes away her tears, and steels her spine like the commander she is.
“Send a missive to the Volcans and the other rebel camps. Tell them to send as many men as they can spare,” I say.
“I already did,” my mother responds. “I don’t know how long it will take, though. We need to hold them off until then.”
“We will. I’ll round up the men for the perimeter.” I turn toward the exit, Mayah close on my heels.
“Mayah,” Tairna calls. She clutches Mayah’s hand. “We can’t risk anything happening to you. When the dust settles, you need to lead.”
Mayah’s lips twist in apology. “I go with Zev.”
The four simple words punch through me like a physical blow. They gut my mother in a different way. “Zev. She cannot go with you.”
I study Mayah’s determined face, our gazes locked together. There’ll be no convincing her to remain here. And I’m not sure I want her out of my sight. I lace my fingers through hers. “There’s no stopping her, Mother. I’ll protect her. Or I’ll die.”
A shuddering sob trembles from Tairna’s lips, and I belatedly realize this was the first time I’ve called her “Mother.”
One more tight embrace that feels far too much like farewell, and then we’re on our way.
Near the wall, the sounds of battle echo through the night.
A group of Arbinji earthwielders face off against a handful of rebels.
Thick vines writhe from the soil, slamming into stone and limbs alike.
Mayah gasps when she spots Tumaas, his dark braids swinging as he slices through a vine with his bloodied sword.
The blond woman kneels behind a crumbling wall, crossbow aimed.
We dart toward them, our assigned group of rebels at our sides, Mayah’s panicked footsteps drawing the attention of the earthwielders.
Another arrow embeds in the one nearest to Mayah as she approaches Tumaas, likely to ask what the fuck he’s doing back out here instead of remaining with Sura and the children.
I focus on the Arbinji soldiers eyeing me with wary eyes.
Their hesitation vanishes when I raise my sword and start cutting down the men.
Every so often, I glance back at Mayah—she’s still talking to Tumaas.
Something squeezes my heart. A stray arrow whistles through the air, passing through the scant space between their faces.
“Enough chatter!” I snap, partly because I want her to stop talking to him.
They fall into formation.
And we fight.
Mayah’s water arcs through the air, arrows hitting the mark where she misses. Tumaas and I fight close-range, fresh blood staining the ground again and again until all the soldiers are dead.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I toss a loaf of bread toward Tumaas. He barely catches it in time, eyeing me with suspicion.
I tear off a large chunk from another loaf inside my cloak, handing most of it to Mayah. Tumaas and the blond woman catch their breath, standing close together, whispering quietly. Mayah watches them, a strange sort of wistfulness passing through her eyes. Is she jealous?
“Ready?” Tumaas says, walking over to us. “We should keep—”
He never finishes his sentence because the ground tears open and a skiesdamned earthwielder leaps out, energy signature pulsing wildly.
Dirt coats his face and dulls the gleam of the sword in his hand. He hauls his arm back, aiming for Tumaas.
No. Not him. Mayah can’t lose someone else she loves.
I don’t think—just shove him out of the way. The earthwielder’s sword cuts through my side. A hard thrust, and my blade rams through his abdomen.
Somewhere behind me, Mayah screams.
The soldier falls to the ground, blood trickling down one side of his mouth.
“Zev!” Mayah screams again, running toward me with glowing hands.
“It’s just a scratch,” I grunt, even as warm blood seeps through my tunic. “Save your—”
“Shut up,” she hisses, her face a mask of fury. She shoves me to the ground, hands covering my wound. Cool power flows through me, the bleeding gash knitting together. Not even a scar left behind. Another wave of healing power pulses through me, spreading across my body.
I grab her wrists, glaring at her. I can’t decide if I want to shove her away or drag her closer to me. Instead, I press another chunk of bread into her mouth. She chews it in a daze, forgetting to swallow until I tap her throat.
“You haven’t eaten,” she says, voice hoarse.
“That was the last of the food,” I lie. There’s still a long night ahead of us until reinforcements arrive from the other rebel camps—she’ll need it more than me.
Tumaas’s face pinches. “Mona and I can double back to the kitchens. We’ll get more food and come back.”
I shake my head. “Bring the food to Sura. The children must be hungry. We’ll head to the kitchens ourselves.”
He crosses his arms, jaw clenching. “You better not be making excuses to get rid of us. We can hold our own. I could’ve handled that tidesdamned earthwielder.”
I rise to my feet, brushing off my trousers. “We’d all feel better knowing the children are well guarded. Not by you. Your technique needs work.” I jerk my head toward the blond woman. “By her. Now go.”
He stands poised to argue, face reddening with every breath, but the woman has more sense than him and drags him away.
Mayah watches them leave. “Let’s go,” she says, turning to head toward the kitchens.
“Wait.” I grab her elbow. “Your reserves are low. It’ll be safer to walk the perimeter where the soldiers are sparse until we’re parallel to the kitchens, then descend into camp.”
“All right.” Her voice is soft. Eyes, trusting.
My heart twists in my chest.
Mayah’s footsteps are soft beside me as we traverse through the forest. The air smells like charred bodies and damp earth. Corpses are scattered across the ground—some rebel, some Arbinji—and Mayah pointedly stares ahead.
“You saved Tumaas,” she says quietly. Her gaze burns into the side of my face, but I can’t bring myself to look at her, not with jealousy searing a hole in my heart. The silence between us grows thicker, its oppressive weight heavy on my chest.
“We’re on the same side.” It’s not a lie, even as my jaw clenches tight. “And he’s your—” Friend? Something more? “I wasn’t going to let him die.”
“Thank—”
The ground trembles, a warning groan warbling as though the earth were in pain.
The soil splits open, and dozens of roots tunnel through the cracks, twisting, reaching, groping—
—for Mayah.