Chapter 60
Chapter Sixty
My tidesdamned heart beats in my throat as I exit the tent on shaky legs like a newborn reindeer. Warriors crowd the clearing, craning their necks to see their king, a wall of leather and muscle and reverence.
And there he is—cutting through the throng in flowing robes trimmed with fur, long white beard gathered with a blue ribbon. He needs no crown. There’s an innate regality in his posture that I’ve tried to mimic for years.
I’ve never mastered it. Perhaps, I never will.
Father isn’t looking at me, though.
His icy gaze is frozen on Zev as he stalks toward the platform.
But my husband can’t be bothered to look at him.
His one open eye is riveted to me.
Father reaches the platform, long robes trailing behind him.
My lungs hold my breath captive. Zev is still watching me, hands clenched, knuckles white. Father follows his gaze—he could never stand to be ignored. His cold eyes land on me. For a second, I think—I hope—they might soften at seeing his only child after months.
But they don’t. The ice in his eyes doesn’t melt. His gaze doesn’t linger for even a breath. I may as well have been part of the scenery. He looks through me, as he so often has.
He turns back to Zev.
Crack.
Father backhands him.
The loud slap shears through my heart, and I lose another piece of it.
Zev’s face twists to the side, a stark white mark blooming before it flares red and melds into the patchwork of his other bruises. There’s a shallow rasp in his breath as he says, “Hello, father-in-law.”
Father sneers at him, hand clamping around Zev’s jaw. “You will die in this camp, Arbinji filth. I swear it by the Tides.”
A broken excuse for a laugh bubbles from Zev’s chapped lips. “Lord over me later, Tormik. I’m not going anywhere. But at least pretend to be a good father and see your daughter first.”
All eyes swing to me.
My face burns.
Father grits his teeth before slapping Zev again. I stifle a gasp, biting my tongue until I taste copper. Vy’s gaze burns the side of my face, but I don’t dare move.
Father whirls, striding away. He doesn’t pay me a second glance.
I’m supposed to follow him. My legs obey, but my eyes refuse to listen.
They find Zev. He isn’t looking at me anymore, though. He stares at the ground, shoulders shuddering with labored breaths. Worry floods the chambers of my heart, drowning me even after I can’t see him anymore.
In Sorka’s tent, Father’s already seated, maps unfurled on the table before him. Sorka stands at attention behind him, jaw set and concern lighting his gaze as he assesses me. I fold myself into the rickety chair across from Father, and he finally, finally deigns to look at me.
“Mayah,” he says softly. His gaze drops to my mother’s necklace, and his lips turn down at the corners. “You are … well?”
That’s a strange way to ask if I’m all right after months of sleeping in his enemy’s bed while risking my life to organize a coup.
“I am. All things considered.” I can’t help the sharp bite that creeps into my voice, but Father doesn’t notice. Or he pretends not to.
“Did you send search parties? After the Rebellion attacked the carriages?” My hands clench into fists in my lap.
“No. Our scouts found your tracks. They surmised that you were heading toward Arbinj. I knew you could handle yourself.”
“What if he had hurt me?”
“Did he?”
“No.” My voice is sharp.
“Mayah—”
“Let me brief you on my mission.” His mouth tightens into a scowl, but he dips his chin.
I recount as much as I can. The mounting Rebellion attacks, Zev leaving for the border. My carefully laid plans for the Equinox.
Father nods, his gaze pensive, a gnarled hand stroking his neat, white beard. “All of the attacks were not Rebellion—we staged most of them.”
My brows knit together, and Father explains, “To lure the Dark Commander away. When you didn’t make contact with Daak, Sorka deduced that you were being closely monitored. Without the Commander hovering, we hoped it would give you more freedom to achieve your goals. How were you discovered?”
“Ze—he returned unexpectedly. Found me in the tunnels with Daak. With his guards,” I lie, glancing at Sorka whose spine goes rigid. “I tried to fight back, but he summoned a storm, and I fain—”
“Enough,” Father interjects sharply, his features severe.
My weakness has always embarrassed him. I bow my head, throat tight.
“Sorka informed me of the rest. Luckily for you, the tidesdamned idiot Commander stopped so close to the Tundrayni camp. I can’t imagine what horrors he had planned for you at the border.
” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “I’m glad you are safe, Daughter. ”
Tears prick my eyes, Zev’s bloodied face flitting through my mind.
“What is your command?” I ask woodenly, still looking at my lap. My gaze snags on the pale sliver of skin where my betrothal ring rested.
“Varad knows we have his son. If he wants him back, he’ll need to meet our terms.”
“And what are our terms?” I whisper.
“Expand our borders to include fertile land, for one. Anything else he’ll give me for his son. And Varad and his heir must come here to finalize the agreement and collect his Commander.” Varad would never agree to something so risky. Would he?
An icy smile frosts over Father’s face.
“Where we’ll kill them. Our revenge is near, Daughter. Your efforts will not be in vain.”