Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Daak barrels into me, muscular arms enveloping my torso. He lifts me clear off the ground, twirling me in the air, face buried in my neck. His familiar scent surrounds me—fresh snow and spruce and home.
“Tides, Mayah.” He whispers it against my clavicle like a prayer before setting me down.
His depthless blue eyes are fearful as he examines my face, tilting it toward the flickering torchlight, running his hands over my hair, across my shoulders.
“I’ve been losing my mind every day, pacing from tunnel to tunnel on the outside, unsure which one would be my salvation.
The one that tells me you’re okay. Tides, you’re okay.
Tides forgive me, I’ve been drowning without you.
Are you all right? Have they hurt you? Have they—”
“I’m fine, Daak,” I murmur, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem convinced. The crease between his brows deepens.
He swallows hard, throat bobbing. “They made you marry him—the Dark Commander.” I flinch at the moniker, and Daak misinterprets it as fear.
His eyes brim with remorse, with guilt. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.
Fuck, Mayah, I nearly flooded the palace when I found out.
” His hands grip my shoulders tighter. “Are you—has he hurt you?”
I bristle at the implication. “No. He hasn’t. We haven’t actually—he’s been kind to me.” I don’t understand why I feel the need to defend Zev to Daak, but I do.
“Kind?” Daak repeats, brow raised. “That’s not a word I’d ever imagined you’d use to describe the Dark Commander. Are you sure you’re all right?” He leads me to the damp, stone wall, guiding me to sit before folding himself down beside me. “How much time do you have? Tell me everything.”
So I do.
I tell him about the Rebellion attack on our carriages and Zev’s initial suspicion. Our shaky truce and the journey across two kingdoms. I omit the part about the arrow wound and power sharing—he doesn’t need to know about that. Then, arriving at the palace and Varad’s duplicitous change of groom.
“And the Dark Commander just agreed to marry you?” Daak asks, glancing at me. His eyes keep scanning me, as if searching for hidden injuries.
“Obviously,” I snort, showing him my betrothal ring.
Daak scowls at the large teardrop diamond glinting on my finger, and for a moment, I fear he might ask me to remove it. Why does that thought burn like acid on my tongue?
“But he hasn’t … touched you?” he asks, voice laced with disbelief.
“No,” I lie smoothly.
Zev has touched me. But only when I begged him to.
Daak shakes his head. “Something must be wrong with his equipment,” he laughs.
“To have you in his chambers every night and leave you untouched?” The timbre of his voice drops.
“I know what I’d do.” His blue eyes darken, and he leans forward, gaze fixed on my mouth.
I stiffen—not from desire, but from tidesdamned guilt.
“I—I can’t stay much longer. I’ll be noticed. We should nail down the plan.”
Disappointment flashes across his face, but he nods.
“You said you’re planning the Equinox Festival?”
“Yes. All the noble families will attend. I’ve ordered zinfadelan—it’ll mask the taste of the poison. You acquired the toxinnia?”
Daak nods. “We have barrels ready to go. No one suspects you? Not the Dark Commander? He’ll drink it, too?”
A sharp pang splinters my heart at the thought of Zev, cold and motionless on the ground, frothy white foam bubbling from his lips.
I swallow down bile. “No. I’ve fooled him.”
Why do I feel like the fool, then?
Daak tugs me closer against his side.
“You’ve done well, Mayah,” he murmurs, arm oppressively heavy over my shoulders. “We’ll bring Arbinj to its knees. With the nobles and royal family dead, you’ll be poised to rule. A safer realm for our people. Just like we planned.”
My lips tremble as I force a smile, but Daak doesn’t seem to notice.
“Parmak’s been wandering about the capital—his dark eyes don’t give him away. Mayah, the people love you. Every other street, someone’s raving about the sweet, healing princess.” He grins at me. “They’ll welcome your rule with open arms.”
His words twist my heart. I didn’t decide to heal in the infirmary as part of our plan—but because I genuinely want to help people. Because healing is who I am.
But if it’s endeared me to the citizens, I suppose there’s no harm in that.
“I—”
He shifts closer. His heated gaze settles on my lips, but my body doesn’t respond like before. It remembers what it used to want. But now … it hesitates.
And then Daak slants his mouth over mine in a kiss I’m too slow to avoid. I freeze as his hands grasp the back of my head, pulling me closer.
It feels wrong. Tides, everything about it is wrong—his taste, his scent, his body. Daak slowly draws back, brows furrowed. He drags his thumb over my lips.
“What is it?”
I inch away from him. “I’m … nervous. Don’t want to get caught.”
His lips quirk into a half-smile. “You used to crave the danger of sneaking around. Or was that only when it was my neck on the line?” His hand caresses my back—it’s meant to be soothing, but it just makes me more tense.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
“That was at home, not in the bowels of the enemy’s palace.” I rise to my feet, my skin still crawling beneath the ghost of his touch. “I’ll return tomorrow.”
Without another word, I leave Daak sitting on the floor.
Over the next two days, I keep my routine exactly the same—mornings with Farzina planning the Equinox Festival and the deaths of the Arbinji ruling class—and afternoons in the infirmary.
But my evenings are spent with Daak.
Plotting.
Reminiscing.
Betraying.
It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal. I know Varad orchestrated my mother’s murder. Robbed me of her light, her warmth. Left me plagued with this embarrassing, debilitating fear of storms.
I’ve waited years for this moment. But now that it’s here, it tastes like ash in my mouth.
I shake the thoughts away and ground myself in the present—the cool stone beneath me, the faint trickle of water through the narrow tunnels … and the large hand resting on my lower back.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Daak sits beside me on the cavern floor, a map unfurled before us. He smooths the worn paper with one large hand, a flickering torch casting strange shadows across our plans.
“The Dark Commander just lets you take anything you want from the library?” Daak asks, a disdainful look on his face. “He’s a fool to think you’d ever accept a life here. With him.” He studies my face carefully.
Again, I’m overcome with the urge to defend Zev, but I shove the retort down my throat. A slow-burning anger crackles in my belly, one I can’t completely explain. Or admit. It’s been simmering since that first night when Daak implied my husband might’ve forced himself on me.
Instead, I gesture to the map, marking various backup entrances and exits in case things don’t go as planned at the festival.
Daak nods. “All right. I’ll let the others know. We’ll be ready.”
I move to stand, but he grabs my wrist. “Stay with me a bit longer, Mayah. I’ve missed you.
” His voice is soft. The voice that whispered reassurances in my ear through countless thunderstorms. The voice that brought me back from the edge again and again after Sura and Tumaas’s deaths.
He raises his arm, and ever so slowly, I lower myself back beside him.
“The palace is a hollow shell without you,” he murmurs, his nose grazing the shell of my ear. “No one to lecture me, drive me insane. No one to kick my ass.”
“I could never kick your ass.” A soft chuckle bursts free, surprising both of us.
“No,” he admits, his eyes brighter than they had been when he pulled me back down. “But it was fun to watch you try.”
Tides, I have missed him. I missed this easy back and forth. He’s the only person who knows all of me—the secret waterwielder, terrified of storms. Daughter to a dead mother and disdainful father. He’s been my best friend for years. My only comfort after Sura and Tumaas died.
I don’t want to hurt him.
But sitting beside him now, his arm slung casually over my shoulders, something is different. I am different. I don’t desire him in the same way. I still love him—I think I always will—but the burning passion is gone.
Melancholy weighs my heart like a rusted anchor.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Everything will change.
I swallow hard, pushing past the tightness in my throat.
“Did the second shipment of food stores arrive?” I ask.
Daak scrubs a hand behind his neck, grinning. “They have. And get this—Arbinj sent over three times the agreed amount. Meat, vegetables, grain. Either someone’s terrible at sums, or they’re bleeding coin and don’t know it.”
I frown. That’s not a small oversight. Still, if it means my people won’t go hungry, I won’t question it. After this is over, when Varad is dead, they’ll never be hungry again.
“How’s Father?” My voice drops. “He hasn’t responded to any of my letters.” Bitterness creeps into my words before I can rein it back.
Daak sighs, brushing a kiss to the top of my head. “He’s well. He worries for you. I tried to convince him to write back, but he didn’t see the point. Any letter would’ve been read several times over before you ever saw it.”
Didn’t see the point? He could’ve asked how I was doing without revealing our plan. If I was being treated well. If I was harmed. If I needed anything. My eyes burn.
“Hey,” Daak says softly. “Remember when I first came to the palace? What you and Sura did?”
I loose a watery laugh at the memory. I was fifteen and furious that Father had appointed a “combat” instructor without consulting me. I expected a grumpy battle-hardened man, not a handsome man of twenty.
Tumaas tried to talk us out of our plan, as he often did, but Sura could never be swayed once she made up her mind.
So the two of us offered to give Daak a tour of the capital, trudging through snow and ice to reach the open sea.
We took a canoe out to Tarka Island—and left Daak stranded and paddled back.
“Not our brightest idea,” I laugh, wiping my eyes. “Especially when you just froze the water and marched back, ready to drown us.”
Daak chuckles. “I was pretty pissed. I knew then that I’d have my hands full with you.
” He cups my cheek, all traces of humor vanished from his face.
“I know this has taken a toll on you. I can see it—you seem different. But it’s almost over, Mayah.
All of it will have been worth it. Just bear it a little longer. For me.”
I can.
I can bear it.
It’s the lies we tell ourselves that keep us moving forward.