Chapter 67
Chapter Sixty-Seven
“I’ll let you go.”
He says it like a promise. Or a punishment. I can’t decide which.
He uncuffs the iron shackles all the same, his fingers brushing over my wrists. Lightning skates across my skin wherever he touches me.
The cuffs were loose—my skin isn’t rubbed raw. There’s only a slight indentation where the iron sat, and still, Zev’s eyes are glued to the faint lines on my skin.
My power floods through me in a surging tide. I close my eyes as its familiar thrum grounds me. So much has changed—my world has shifted on its axis—but my power remains.
I am a healer and a waterwielder
I can harm—have harmed.
But I can also heal.
I eye Zev’s injuries. Some are fresh, some are days old and scarred.
“I’ll heal you. As a truce.”
The words settle between us, uncomfortable and thick. A reminder of an identical moment a lifetime ago.
A different Mayah and a different Zev.
Not who we are now, with an insurmountable chasm of betrayal and mistrust and hurt between us.
“Heal yourself first,” he says gruffly. “I’ve survived this long.”
Because of my healing, you ungrateful ass. I swallow down my irritation.
Instead, I set my palms aglow and gingerly press them to the dull pulsing behind my head. Zev looks away, hands clenched in his lap.
Next, I heal the minor scrapes and bruises from the battle with my people. My eyes burn. Fuck.
I inhale shakily, then inch closer to Zev. His eyes are stony as he watches me. I hesitate for a second, then press my palms to the bare skin of his neck, my thumbs gently brushing its masculine slant. He swallows, his throat bobbing beneath my fingers.
Our eyes meet, and Tides, I lose myself in his gray gaze. His eyes soften, and for a heartbeat, I see my Zev, the one who looked at me with such warmth and affection and care. As if he were in awe of me. As if I were the answer to his every question. As if he—
“Zev…” I whisper, a hushed plea. I don’t know for what.
I wish I hadn’t.
My voice shatters whatever spell was cast over us. In the space between heartbeats, his eyes frost over, chasing away any warmth that might have lit them from within.
“Heal me quickly,” he snaps. “Then stop touching me.” His mouth turns down in a fierce scowl. “And don’t call me Zev.”
I try to mask the quiver of my chin.
Casting my power through him, I heal any new internal injuries first—including two cracked ribs. Then, with trembling fingers, I unbutton his stolen shirt. I wait for him to push my hands away, or insist he’ll do it himself, but he doesn’t—just keeps watching me with that cold, steely gaze.
My breath catches as his tanned skin comes into view.
I’d seen the damage up close each night beneath the dim glow of the moon, but Tides, his injuries are horrific under the waning light of the setting sun.
Ugly purpling contusions—faint, red indents of knuckles running across some of them—and deep, half-scabbed gashes.
It takes several minutes. For the wounds that have scabbed completely, I can’t erase the scars. I can only speed up the healing process—like the thick, straight lines carved across his chest.
I want to erase them. To pretend they were never there. But I can’t. After my first pass, he’s left with a smooth row of thick, pale scars. A reminder of his captivity. Of my betrayal.
I bite my lip, ready to try again when—
“Leave them,” he growls, batting my hands away. He shoots to his feet, dead leaves disintegrating beneath his boots as he crosses the clearing and busies himself with the horse. He doesn’t spare me another glance.
Hurt flares within me, though I have no right to it.
He’s still tending to the horse when the clouds gather overhead. My eyes cut to him in a panic. Did he…?
But then he looks at the sky, too, brows drawn together. When his gaze finds mine, Zev flinches and averts his eyes like I burned him.
I watch in stilted silence as he pitches a small tent. Thunder cracks above, and my heart misses a beat. It rumbles through my bones like judgment. The canopy of swollen clouds has thickened, dark and full to bursting with rain. My hands tremble.
Finally, he sits across from me. Moonlight silhouettes his massive body—we didn’t risk starting a fire.
“I told you my plan,” he says, shoulders taut with tension. “What do you want?”
“Revenge.” There is no hesitation. “I want to kill my father.”
He eyes me carefully. “You can barely cope with what happened at the camp.”
“That’s different. Those men were innocent. He murdered my mother. Tormented me with storms for twenty years. I was a tidesdamned child. And if that weren’t enough, he molded me into a weapon with his lies.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek. “Fine. And then?”
“I’ll rule Tundrayn.”
“You really believe your people will accept you as queen after you murder their king? After what we did to those warriors?”
I fold my arms over my chest, forcing down the suffocating guilt threatening to choke me.
My voice quivers with uncertainty as I say, “They’ll have to.
” It comes out as a question, though I meant to be firm.
“Who knows what else my father has done? What other atrocities he’s committed? I can’t leave him to rule.”
“And how will you go about this?”
“I don’t know.” I hadn’t given it much thought after the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours. “Maybe—maybe I’ll return to Arbinj. Make another deal with your father.”
Zev goes completely still. The muscle pulses in his jaw once, twice.
“I won’t tell him about you,” I rush to add. Even in the darkness, his eyes burn with rage. “I can say my father killed you. Or the rebels. Like you said.”
He scoffs. “So clever. So cunning. I was a fool not to see it before.”
His sharp words tear through me like a jagged, rusted blade—they’re true, yet truths often hurt the worst.
“You don’t have to trust me,” I snap. A brisk wind rustles my unbound hair, and I huddle tighter into myself. “But stop pretending I haven’t already proven I’m not your enemy.”
“What makes you think you have?” he growls.
“I healed you every night. I brought you food.”
He scoffs again like it means nothing, like I didn’t risk my life to ensure he survived.
“I didn’t have to. I could’ve let you rot.”
He looks away, but not before I catch the flicker in his eyes.
“But I didn’t,” I press, bracing my forearms on my knees. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because you’re a manipulative liar with your own agenda.” Zev rises to his feet. “Save your breath. I’ll never make the mistake of trusting you again.”
A raindrop lands on my cheek. Then another. I’m grateful I can blame the blurriness in my vision on the rain.
Zev gestures to the tent. “Get in.”
I stare at the small, unassuming canvas structure, barely standing upright. It doesn’t look big enough to fit him, let alone both of us. I don’t want to be in such close quarters with his hatred.
“I’m not sleeping in there with you,” I snap, trying to mask the waver in my voice.
“Why not? We’ve shared a bed before, wife.”
Tides ravage me, he makes that one word drip with poison.
“That was different! I was—”
“Pretending?” he cuts in. “You’re good at it. One more night won’t kill you.”
Without a second glance at me, he ducks into the tent.
Tides drown me.
Maybe I could sleep out here.
The sky rumbles, as if it’s laughing at me.
I bite my lip, then climb in after him.
Not because I want to be near him. I crawl in because the storm terrifies me. And because after everything, he’s the only safe place I have left.