Chapter 49
Chapter Forty-Nine
“You killed me, Mayah.” The voice is raw, splintered.
No. No, no, no.
Blue eyes bore into me, accusing and cold.
Dead.
“You don’t love me anymore. But you didn’t have to kill me for it.”
No, no. I—
“Just hang on a little longer.”
Daak.
Awareness reclaims me with a violent jolt. I suck in air, greedy for the breath that my lungs won’t accept. Storm clouds overhead, lightning crashing around me. The threatening caress of electric heat on my face.
Eyes clenched shut, I brace for the next thunderclap.
A beat passes.
It never comes.
The ground rocks beneath me. I’m moving. My eyelids flutter open—hard, wooden seats, a door set into the wall—I’m in a carriage.
I try to move, but I can’t.
Shit. My hands are chained to the wall. And judging by the ache in my shoulders and the numbness in my wrists, I’ve been shackled for hours. Tides, how long was I passed out?
The carriage lurches, and my shoulder slams into the wall. Wood creaks. Chains bite. My breath fogs in the tiny space like I’m breathing inside a tomb.
The air crackles, and I can sense him.
I’m not alone.
“What a relief, wife,” he snarls, voice dripping with venom. “I was beginning to worry you’d never wake.”
I don’t want to look at him.
My husband.
I don’t want to see the gray eyes that glittered with rage as he murdered Daak.
Eyes that will undoubtedly brim with hatred when they land on me.
“A waterwielder,” Zev muses. His voice is colder than the tundra. “Right under my nose for months. In my skiesdamned bed.”
I force myself to meet his stony gaze. His eyes are bloodshot. There’s no warmth in my husband’s face.
This is the Dark Commander, forged from lightning and steel.
And he hates me.
“Mayah, please. Just … please.”
Then, nothing.
Maybe I deserve this. The poison in his voice, the way he looks at me like I’m filth beneath his boot. I’ve betrayed him.
But that was always the plan.
And I think I might hate him, too. For what he did. Because Daak didn’t deserve to die that way, terrified and confused. And knowing I didn’t love him anymore.
So yes—I do hate him. I have to, if I’m going to survive.
He’s planning to kill me. How could he not? A secret waterwielder plotting to murder him and his family?
I straighten my spine as much as the chains will allow. Every rattle of the wheels echoes in my skull. Iron cuffs dig into my skin. I can’t shift without metal scraping metal. I cast my gaze around the carriage, trying to anchor myself.
The Dark Commander’s eyes sharpen as he watches me.
“Recognize it?” he asks, steel eyes glinting. “It’s the same design as the prisoner’s carriage we rode in when we left Tundrayn. Seemed only fitting we end our journey the way it began.”
My blood turns to ice.
He really does mean to kill me.
I suck in a shuddering breath.
He would’ve been a fool to have water inside the carriage, but there must be a source outside—a stream or a river. Tides, I could make do with a puddle.
I cast out my power, trying to sense even the tiniest drop.
And—nothing.
It doesn’t work. Where my power should have been, there’s just an empty void.
A frustrated grunt escapes me.
His lips freeze into a cold smile. “First time in iron chains?”
I glare at him.
“Why did you really come to Arbinj?” he asks, undeterred.
“Untie me.” I force ice into my voice, though the heat in his glare might set me on fire.
The corner of his mouth lifts in a cruel mimicry of a smile.
“Answer my question.”
“No.”
He leans forward, menacing and large in the small carriage. In a flash, his hand wraps around my neck. He doesn’t squeeze—not yet—but his message comes across loud and clear.
The Dark Commander looms even closer, and I recoil as much as the chains will allow.
“Is this where you tell me not to touch you? Because you’re the princess of Tundrayn?” His voice drops to a silken whisper, threaded with violence. “Tell me, was that the real you? Or just another mask?”
I swallow hard, and he smirks, though it’s more a baring of teeth. A long finger traces the line of my bare collarbone—my necklace is gone. I shiver, despite myself.
I’m defenseless prey beneath his hateful gaze.
“Why did you come to Arbinj? Do not lie to me. I won’t ask again, wife.” I wish he’d stop calling me that, a mock endearment wrapped in threat.
“To marry your brother!” I snap. “We’ve had this conversation before, remember?”
Not the answer he wanted, apparently.
The sky darkens outside, dimming the faint shimmer of light that filtered through the small carriage window.
A distant rumble mocks me.
Dark shadows stretch along the walls like tendrils reaching for me. My bladder twitches, and I clench hard, humiliated by the familiar terror clawing through me.
The Dark Commander sits back, knees spread wide, hands steepled casually over his abdomen.
“I’ll summon the storm inside the carriage, if that’s what you wish.
But then you’d faint again like a sad, sniveling child, and I’d have to wait for you to wake up and start all over again.
So make it easier for both of us and tell me. Why. Did. You. Come.”
His words ravage my already shredded heart.
His cruelty is precise, practiced.
The air shifts—thicker, wetter. Like the breath of the sea before it drowns you.
I tilt my chin in defiance, mouth stubbornly shut.
He sighs. “You were going to poison everyone at the Equinox Festival.”
Shock roils through me, and I can’t stop my mouth from parting.
“I had the tunnels flushed out. There were barrels of toxinnia ready.” He rests his chin on a hand, cold eyes trapping me in place. “And the wormbark oil in my chambers?”
His chambers.
Not ours.
“Who was it for? Your dead captain?”
Tears prick my eyes at the mention of Daak. I turn my face away. Can’t bear to look at his murderer for another second.
“Who was it for?” he snarls, leaning forward.
Silence.
The ceiling feels lower with every second. As if the storm outside bears down from above, shrinking the air, crushing me inch by inch.
Lightning flashes, bathing me in its harrowing light.
“Who was it f—”
“For you!” Tears slide down my cheeks. “It was for you!”
For a moment, he just stares at me, unmoving.
“Stop lying.” His voice is deathly calm.
“I swear by the Tides, it was for you!”
Before my next heartbeat, he’s flown across the carriage, palms braced against the wall, caging my head between them.
“STOP. LYING!” he roars into my face.
The thunder is louder inside this coffin of wood and steel and violence. I gag, bile rising in my throat. My wrists jerk in their chains.
I can’t get out. I can’t get out.
There were nights he held me through storms, voice soft in my ear. Now he is the storm. And he’ll never hold me again.
I cower. I’m not proud of it, but I do. His fury is terrifying.
He is terrifying.
I don’t know how I’ll escape this. How I’ll escape him.
If I even can.
Panting, he settles back on the bench, scrubbing a violent hand across his mouth.
“You were going to poison everyone at the Festival. And then what? Rule Arbinj and Tundrayn with your captain by your side?” He tsks. “Shame he’s dead. You could’ve ruled together—how romantic.”
Anger drowns my grief at his flippant mention of Daak’s death.
How fucking dare he?
“You seem more upset to have caught me with another man than you are about the fact that I plotted to murder your family and seize the throne,” I hiss, lips curved in a mocking smile. “Poor baby commander. Can’t handle a little heartbreak?”
Another loud rumble of thunder sounds out, but I force myself to meet his gaze without flinching. For the first time since I awoke in chains, I have the upper hand.
His hands clench into tight fists, knuckles flaring white. A low growl echoes through the cramped space. His arms twitch, and for a moment, I think he might strike me.
I wish he would.
But he doesn’t. Just keeps glaring at me.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the border.” I’m surprised he responds.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Maybe. I haven’t decided.” He says it so casually, like he hasn’t decided what he’ll eat for dinner.
I swallow hard. “What did you do with his body?” I whisper.
The Dark Commander watches me with narrowed eyes, a muscle jumping in his jaw.
I brace for his next cruel jibe—but it never comes.
The carriage jolts to a stop.