Chapter 35 #2
With a deep, aching sigh, he rests his forehead against my temple.
“I’m doing this all wrong, Mayah. I’m truly, truly sorry.
In my efforts to keep you safe, I’m making you resent me.
I wish we could spend every minute together.
When I’m not with you, believe me that you dominate my every thought.
Give me another chance. I’ll do better.”
My heart warms at his admission—that I’m not the only one aching.
But I won’t let him off the hook so easily.
“And how, exactly, will you do better?”
“You can freely explore the palace. With guards,” he adds before I can interrupt.
“One guard.”
“Four.”
“One.”
“Two.” He pinches my side lightly. “No less.”
“Fine.” I narrow my eyes. “What else?”
“You can heal in the infirmary as you please. Just—don’t burn through your reserves. I know food was … limited in Tundrayn. We have no such scarcity here. I won’t have you collapsing to prove a point.”
“And?” I prompt, my lips curving into a wide smile.
He tickles my ribs, and a breathy laugh escapes me.
“You’re being cruel. You already have me on my knees.
” His voice is soft with affection. “I’ll work less, I swear it.
I’ve been putting off going to the border, thinking it was enough.
But I realize now, even with me here, we spend too much time apart.
I’ve been a fool, Mayah.” He presses a lingering kiss to my temple.
“But I’ll learn. Have patience with me.”
“All right,” I say softly. “One more chance.”
He holds me tightly, inhaling deeply as if memorizing my scent. Without a word, he leads me to the blanket, and we eat our dinner beneath the stars.
“Any movement with the Rebellion?” I ask between sips of wine—a mellow white.
Zev grimaces. “They set fire to a large farm two days ago—destroyed food for a large battalion.” A deep sigh slips free. “But let’s speak of something else. How are you liking Faerahzar?”
“You mean Faerataak. It’s the same story. But the book is wrong. He was a waterwielder first, not a stormwielder.”
Zev rolls his eyes. “Does it matter? In the end, he wielded everything.”
“Of course it matters!” I exclaim, pounding my fist on the blanket-covered ground. “Arbinj can’t claim Faerataak. He’s ours.”
“All right, wife,” he acquiesces, a small smile ticking up his lips. “He was a waterwielder. Tell me more of what you’ve been up to.”
I tell him about the infirmary patients, my conversation with Sauzon, and my progress with the Equinox Festival. Zev listens attentively, always finding some way to touch me. A casual brush on my arm, an errant strand tucked behind my ear.
“Will your father and brother disapprove of me healing in the infirmary?” It’s been weighing on my mind.
“Don’t worry about them,” Zev says. A faint crease mars his brow. “I’ll handle them. You do as you please.”
He runs a gentle hand over my hair, playing with the dark strands. “I have something for you,” he murmurs. “It’s long overdue.”
Zev leans back, retrieving a small box from his pocket. Without a word, he flips it open—and my breath escapes my lungs.
Nestled inside is a stunning silver ring, the band delicate but strong. Simple. At its center sits a brilliant white diamond, cut into the shape of a teardrop. Flickering light from the candles dances off its facets, scattering rainbows across the box’s velvet lining.
My fingers instinctively rise to my clavicle, brushing the cool stone that rests there.
It’s a perfect match to my mother’s necklace.
“I had it made for you,” Zev says quietly, shifting closer. “It took longer than I expected.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. My throat tightens, a storm of emotion catching in my chest. I blink rapidly, trying to force back the tears, but one slips free anyway.
Zev’s expression falters. “You don’t like it?”
I shake my head, swallowing hard. “It’s perfect.”
For a beat, he doesn’t move, just watching me closely. Then, he exhales in relief and gently takes my hand. His fingers brush over my knuckles—slow, reverent—as if committing every line of my skin to memory. Then, with a tenderness that nearly unravels me, he slides the ring onto my finger.
I stare at it, chest aching. It glints in the candlelight like a drop of clear, pure water—like something sacred.
I lift my eyes, only to find him already watching me.
“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, caressing the bare skin of my wrist.
I don’t answer. I can’t. There’s a heavy weight wedged against my ribs.
He lifts my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm, then holds it to his cheek, closing his eyes. “I know this doesn’t make up for everything. But I hope it’s a start.”
I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.
Then he opens his eyes—and I swear the look in them could undo kingdoms. Undo me.
His gaze drops to my lips, and for one breathless moment, I think he’ll kiss me.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. Our breaths mingle, warm and uneven.
The ring shimmers between us, a promise too beautiful to be real.
But Tides help me, I want it to be.