Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“And what about this one?” I ask, holding up a dark blue vial.
“Laudanarum,” Sauzon replies. “Helps relieve pain and ease coughing fits.”
It’s a rare, quiet day in the infirmary. I jot down his response in my notebook.
“What about antidotes? For poison? I’m not sure how much my healing would help with something like that.”
Sauzon retrieves a large bottle filled with clear liquid from a cabinet.
“Wormbark oil. Purges by inducing vomiting. Very effective.” Replacing the bottle, he scans the infirmary.
“It’s a slow day, Princess. I’m retiring early.
You should do the same.” He packs his belongings with quiet efficiency.
I suppose I can return to my chambers and continue my reading.
I bid Sauzon goodbye and step into the hallway.
The empty hallway.
My guards are gone—likely between shifts, assuming I’d be preoccupied in the infirmary for a few more hours.
My breath catches. I’m alone.
I don’t squander my chance.
I’ve never explored the palace alone. I head down an unfamiliar hallway, pulse hammering in my throat. All it would take is for one guard or servant to see me, and I’d return to having a chaperone.
And a very angry husband.
The stone wall is cool beneath my fingertips as I run them along its length—smooth and unremarkable. Hiding nothing.
With a frown, I turn down another hallway.
Shit.
I picked the wrong one.
Faramir stands at the end, speaking with a handful of advisers. Thank the Tides, none of them spot me before I creep back to the adjacent hallway.
“Another attack?” Faramir’s obnoxiously preening voice echoes against the stone walls. “Has my brother been made aware? Or my idiot father?”
The adviser responds, too low for me to hear.
“What about Tundrayn? Do you think they’re involved? Teaming up with the Rebellion? Wouldn’t put it past the treacherous bastards.”
I bristle. I don’t have time to be outraged, though, because Faramir’s voice grows louder. They must be walking down the hall.
Straight toward me.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I pad silently down the hallway, head swiveling until I spy a door. I yank it open—a supply closet—and disappear inside.
It’s dim and musty, a thin sliver of light beneath the door barely cutting through the dark. Slowly, my eyes adjust, and I inch deeper into the closet.
I hold my breath, careful not to make a sound. If Faramir catches me, I’ll lose this fragile freedom I’ve carved out, and Zev will never let me out of his sight again.
A beat passes, then another.
Silence.
He’s gone. I’m undetected.
I exhale softly and—
—the door opens.
A large figure enters, broad-shouldered and massive.
My heart stops.
The dark silhouette edges closer.
I loose a relieved breath, tension melting from my stiff shoulders.
I recognize him.
It’s my husband, and he does not look pleased.
“What are you doing in here, wife?” His voice is casual, but the undercurrent of danger swirls around its edges.
He steps closer.
I step back.
“Hiding,” I whisper. I creep backward until I’m pressed flush against the wall. “I saw your brother one hallway over.”
He hums, taking another step closer. The air around him vibrates.
“And where are your guards?”
“You wanted to find me in a dark closet with one of my guards?”
He growls. “You know that’s not what I mean.” He’s right in front of me now, barely an inch between us.
All I can see and smell and sense is him.
He braces his hands against the wall on either side of my head, muscular arms caging me. The air tightens—there’s no escape.
I hate it. I love it. I can’t tidesdamned think.
“I’m waiting for an answer, wife.” His breath skates across my lips.
“I—I saw a chance to be alone. I took it. Everyone wants to be alone sometimes.”
His gray eyes study me, nearly black in the dark.
“Which guards?” he finally asks.
“Don’t punish them,” I protest. “It’s not their fault.”
“Which. Guards.”
“Gregoran and Freynk. But please don’t punish them. I like them.”
“You like them?” he growls, pressing closer. “I’m feeling more and more inclined to eviscerate them.”
My hand finds its way to Zev’s firm chest, splaying over his heart. I don’t say anything, teeth catching my lower lip as I look up at him with wide eyes.
He mutters a curse, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
For a moment, neither of us says a word.
Zev trails a finger across my collarbone, up the line of my neck. He’s breathing hard. So am I.
“Can I kiss you, Mayah?” he whispers.
It’s dangerous how easily he unravels me. How badly I want to lose myself in him.
Just one kiss. Just one taste.
Then I’ll stop.
“Yes—” The word has barely left my mouth when his lips capture mine in a deep, punishing kiss. His mouth claims me with urgency, full lips coaxing mine open. My hands tangle in his soft locks, a loud groan tearing free.
I try to stifle the moans rising in my throat, but he drinks them down greedily—like he wants every gasp, every sound I’m not supposed to make.
The harder I try to stay quiet, the louder I become.
His tongue plunders my mouth, and Tides drown me, I’m lost in him.
Large hands grip the backs of my thighs, hoisting me up until I wrap my legs around his waist.
The stone wall is hard against my back, and my husband is hard everywhere else. I’m utterly consumed by him. He breaks away only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck, nudging aside my necklace to dip his tongue in the hollow between my collarbones before kissing his way back to my lips.
I should push him away. I should tell him to stop. Tides, this is dangerous.
But the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered—splits me open, leaving me powerful and fragile all at once.
Nothing about the kiss is gentle—not the sharp clack of his teeth as they knock against mine, not the rough scrape of his stubble against my cheeks and chin, not the bruising grip of his fingers on my thighs.
Instead of drowning in the Tides, I’m drowning in him.
I used to think I had control. But pressed between stone and shadow, with my husband’s hands branding my skin—I realize how weak he makes me.
I grind against him, desperate for more, aching for his touch, I—
The door flings open with a loud bang.
Feminine chatter, followed by a sharp, scandalized gasp.
Silence.
Zev breaks the kiss, and I squint against the sudden onslaught of light.
“Come back later,” Zev growls, turning his attention back to me.
I recognize Farzina amongst the servants.
“Wait! Wait,” I call out as embarrassing heat rushes to my face. I push at Zev’s chest, but I may as well have been shoving a brick wall.
My eyes lock with his in a fierce glare. His gaze is dark, swirling with unbridled lust. Reluctantly, he sets me down. My legs wobble, knees nearly buckling, and my husband steadies me with a firm hand around my waist.
Eyes downcast, I scurry out of the supply closet, Zev close on my heels. I can’t bring myself to meet Farzina’s eyes. Quickly whipping around a corner, I stride away, heat scorching my cheeks.
Except Zev’s footsteps thud after me, refusing to let me escape.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. My face is still flaming.
“My wife seems to have misplaced her guards,” he rumbles, giving me a knowing smirk, though it’s edged with something sharp.
“I’m ensuring she returns to our chambers safely.
And”—he snakes his arm around my waist in a possessive grip—“if she wanted to continue what we began in the closet, I’m happy to oblige her. ”
I almost tell him I want nothing of the sort, but the throbbing ache between my thighs calls me a liar.
So I don’t say anything.
We walk in silence, Zev melded to my side, reaching our chambers when I have a sudden thought.
I whirl. “What were you doing in the closet?”
He’s silent for a heartbeat, then says, “I was hiding from my brother, too.”
He braces one arm against the door jamb, towering over me in the hallway. “Have you decided, wife? Can I come inside?” His voice is sinfully low. So deep, so decadent, I nearly say yes.
I bite my lower lip. “You don’t need permission to enter your own chambers.”
He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear, melting the resolve I’m desperately clinging to. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”
I want to say yes. Tides, I want to say yes.
But I shouldn’t. I can’t.
My breath catches. I swallow hard. “Your—your brother is looking for you.”
He blinks. Just once. Then the smile that lit his face dims, and he steps back.
I catch the flicker of hurt, mingled with disappointment, that flashes through his eyes. He gives me a curt nod before walking away.
Something pulls at my heart, sharp and insistent. My hand shoots out, fingers curling around his bicep.
“Wait! I—” His steely gaze rakes over me, and my breath catches.
“I want to, Zev. Truly. It’s just … even with our marriage, the situation is tense between our kingdoms. Your family still doesn’t trust Tundrayn.
I’m afraid. Of being hurt. Of hurting you.
I just need more time.” I press his palm to my cheek, willing him to see the truth in my words.
His eyes soften, lips parting on a deep exhale. He nods once more, brushing a kiss to my forehead before striding away.