Chapter 72
Chapter Seventy-Two
Sura reluctantly leaves me and Zev in a small bedroom down the hallway from the one she shares with Tumaas. According to her, it has its own attached washroom—everyone else on this floor shares a communal bath.
Zev inspects the room, locks the door, then wedges a chair against it for good measure.
I lean against a wall, quietly observing as he paces the room, one hand raking through his hair like it can’t settle anywhere else.
With a heavy sigh, he sinks onto the small sofa, cradling his head.
His shoulders slump, as if they can’t bear any more weight.
With hesitant footsteps, I join him on the sofa, leaving enough room for the baggage between us. “Are you all right?” I ask softly. My hand wavers, but I force it to remain in my lap.
He doesn’t respond, but his shoulders slump lower.
“Do you—do you want a hug?”
He scoffs bitterly. “Why would I want that?” is his muffled reply.
I shrug. “You look like you could use a hug.”
He sits back, elbows braced on his knees, and glares at me. “You forbade me from touching you, remember?” A muscle ticks in his jaw.
I roll my eyes. “That’s never stopped you before.”
He just stares at me, angry. He’s always angry.
“Look,” I add softly. “It’s been a lot for both of us. With your mother and the rebels and Sura and…” I trail off. My father. My people.
He doesn’t answer.
I don’t know why, but his silence shatters something deep inside me, something so broken, I’m surprised it can splinter further.
My world has shifted and realigned more times than I can count in the span of mere days—but through it all, he’s been the one constant.
Angry, cruel, impossible or not—it’s been just me and him for so long.
The bond of a lifetime, forged within months—
—and shattered in one single wretched moment.
I blink against the sudden sting behind my eyes.
“Maybe I was the one who needed a hug,” I whisper brokenly.
I rise from the sofa when, with a muffled grunt, he grabs my wrist and yanks me into his lap.
My breath escapes in a surprised whoosh.
His muscled arms wrap around me, and he buries his face against my neck.
My fingers tangle in his hair, and his warm breath against my skin sets my heart aflutter.
“This doesn’t change anything,” he mutters against my collarbones.
“I know,” I whisper back, raking my nails against his scalp. I drag them down to his neck, then his shoulders, kneading the tense muscles until his body relaxes. His head tips slightly, resting heavier on my clavicle.
I can almost pretend he’s still mine.
I hold him tighter, and he nuzzles the soft skin of my neck, inhaling deeply. I swallow hard, and the movement has his lips just brushing the faint slant of my throat.
His breath is hot against my neck when he asks, “If I tell you to stay here while I talk to Tairna, would you listen?”
“No.”
“What if I ask nicely?”
“I’d think about it longer. But I still wouldn’t listen.”
He leans back and sighs, deep and long-suffering, though I don’t miss the faint twitch of his lips.
“Let’s go.”
Torches line the narrow corridors as we head toward Tairna’s office, located one floor above us. The scratched wooden floor creaks beneath our boots, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder just how stable the structure really is.
The door to Tairna’s office is simple. Unassuming. If Sura hadn’t pointed it out earlier, I’d never have guessed this is where the leader of the camp spends her time. Zev’s lone knock echoes around us, flames glinting off his thick iron cuff.
Tairna bids us to enter—she doesn’t look surprised by our visit.
Her office is small and austere, the kind of space where every object has a purpose and nothing is wasted on vanity. A large, battered table dominates nearly half the room, its surface scratched and scarred. Several mismatched chairs are tucked in around it.
The only hint of sentiment is a single painting leaning against a wall: a striking image of Mother Valca, its dark smoking peak rising above a field of red-gold lava. In the sky, a jagged lightning bolt pierces through the night-black paint.
“My son and his beautiful wife,” she greets as we enter, a wide smile lighting her face. “May the Flames bless your union with eternal happiness.” She beams at me. I shift awkwardly on my feet, managing a weak smile. Zev just grunts.
“Is your room suitable?” Tairna continues, gesturing to the chairs across from her. “Anything you need?”
A beat.
“Our room is lovely,” I reply, glancing at Zev. Did he take another vow of silence? “Thank you.”
Zev pulls out a chair for me, then folds his large frame into another. I guess we’re pretending to be a happy couple.
His mother gazes at us, chin resting over steepled fingers.
“Tell us your plan,” Zev says gruffly.
Ah. There’s my charming husband.
Tairna leans back in her chair, a soft smile curving her lips. “Always so impatient, Vayru.” Zev remains stone-faced, and her smile slowly dims. “The plan is simple. We attack both Tundrayn and Arbinj on the same day. Obtain control of the capitals at once.”
“You don’t have enough men for that.”
“Oh, but we do.” Tairna’s smile returns, though it’s conspiratorial this time. “Tell me, how is that Volcan-Arbinji alliance coming along?” Her dark eyes glitter in the lamplight. “It isn’t. Because they’ve allied with us.”
Zev’s lips part in surprise, and I’m certain the same shock is mirrored on my face.
My husband recovers before I do. “And then?”
“And then we declare Mayah—and you—rulers over both kingdoms. The people will accept her—the healer princess. She’s already won over the Arbinji citizens.”
“And me?” Zev’s voice is cold as ice.
“Your reputation in the war … you won’t be well-received in Tundrayn. But at Mayah’s side, I’m certain her people will accept you in time. And—”
“There’s a slight problem with your plan,” I interject, biting my lip. “My people … they—” I loose a shuddering breath, chin quivering. “At the Tundrayni camp, we—”
My throat closes up. Hot tears blur my vision.
“That’s where Mayah learned it was Tormik that killed her mother,” Zev supplies, eyeing me sideways.
His hands clench into fists in his lap. “Tormik and a few men escaped, but the remaining warriors attacked us. Mayah and I managed to protect ourselves.” Another sideways glance. “The warriors are … gone.”
A look of understanding crosses Tairna’s face. “You think your people won’t accept you as queen because you killed your own warriors?”
I flinch at her words. Zev’s knuckles flare white. My chin dips in a hesitant nod.
“Hmm,” Tairna muses. “It’s not ideal. But not insurmountable.
Once your people learn it was Tormik that murdered Meerah”—I flinch again, and Zev grits his teeth—“they’ll support you.
” Tairna taps her chin, deep in thought.
She sits straighter in her chair, studying us with steely resolve.
“The plan remains unchanged. You rule Arbinj and Tundrayn.”
I worry my lower lip. I want to trust her, this woman who says my mother’s name with such tenderness. I want to believe she trusts me with power because of my stance on nonwielders. But how much of that power does she want for herself?
“Do you expect me to be your puppet?”
“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be left unchecked. We’ll install oversight councils in both kingdoms. I’ll serve on your council in Arbinj, along with my advisers. But I have no doubt you’ll be honorable, good monarchs. Sauzon speaks so highly of you, Mayah.”
“You know Sauzon?” I ask in surprise.
She nods. “I have spies in both palaces. Sauzon is one of them.”
Zev stiffens, tilting his head. Tairna’s eyes flicker as she glances toward him, dipping her chin a hair’s breadth. They seem to be having a silent conversation, and I don’t like being on the outside.
“Sauzon is a shield,” Tairna finally says aloud, gaze still locked with her son’s.
“A shield?” I repeat, brows furrowed.
“It’s a unique wielding capability,” she explains.
“We’ve only recently learned of it. They are impervious to the effects of heart- and truthwielders.
Most shields are assumed to be nonwielders their entire lives.
We only learned of them last year. There was a new recruit—she was hysterical after enduring severe trauma.
One of our heartwielders tried to calm her, but his power wouldn’t work. After that, we began testing everyone.”
My mind reels with this new information—with how much knowledge the Rebellion has gleaned, how far-reaching their plans are. How ready they are to change the realm.
Tairna’s gaze finds mine again. “As I said, Mayah, I have no doubt you’d be an incredible queen. I want someone who cares for both wielders and nonwielders alike. A better world for all of us.”
“But how can you trust us so quickly?”
“I told you I’ve had spies in both Tundrayn and Arbinj. I know you’ve been fighting for nonwielders for years. And from what Sauzon tells me, I know you’re a kind, good person.” She glances at Zev, giving him a faint smile. “And I already know my son’s heart.”
I mull over her words. “What do you think, Zev?” I ask softly. “You don’t want to rule.” I don’t mention the nonexistent state of our marriage. My intuition tells me that Zev doesn’t want his mother to know of our … marital troubles.
“Zev…” Tairna repeats, a wistful smile on her lips. “No one’s called you that since—”
“Lev.” The name tears from my husband’s throat like a curse.
“Yes,” she murmurs. “I was very sorry to hear of his death.”
“Were you?” Zev snaps, leaning forward. “Did you also hear of my father’s reaction?”
The temperature in the room drops several degrees. The air thickens—like it’s waiting for lightning. The blood drains from Tairna’s stricken face. She shakes her head.
“He said Lev must’ve been a worthless wielder if he managed to get himself frozen.
” His voice cracks. “Wouldn’t let me attend his funeral.
Couldn’t risk the kingdom seeing their commander weep like a pathetic girl.
” His fists clench around the armrests until the wood groans, and I know, if not for his iron cuffs, there would be a storm gathering in this very room.
“He mocked Lev in every council meeting for two months, calling him frozen fucking dirt, until I could get through without showing any emotion.”
Twin tears slide down Tairna’s cheeks. Too slow. Too late.
“I’m so sor—”
“Spare me your useless apologies.” His voice is cold.
Empty. “You’ve done a great job with the Rebellion.
Well fucking done, Tairna.” She flinches.
He leans farther across the table, a vein throbbing in his forehead.
“Tell me, how did I fit into your grand plan if I hadn’t married Mayah and fallen into your lap along with her? Were you planning to kill me, too?”
“Vayru, please, of course not! I-I am truly sorry for what you’ve endured. Without me there to support you. But Varad’s cruelty is exactly why we need to—”
Zev slams both his fists against the worn surface of the table, his iron cuffs clacking against the wood. Tairna and I both jump at the sudden sound. His chair nearly topples backward as he shoots up, thundering toward the door.
Torn, I glance back at Tairna—still seated, still crying. My questions about Mama will have to wait. I rise and follow the man who might never let me in again.