Chapter 31
Zara
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I groaned, grabbing the pillow underneath me and plastering it up onto my ears to drown out the sound. Three days. Three days of rain, of this tent, and I was going to go insane.
After that day on the cliff, the day Xavier killed Atticus, he shadowed us directly to one of his camps near the ward.
We hadn’t spoken, and I don’t think either of us wanted to ruin what had happened that night.
I haven't seen him since, well, that’s not entirely true.
At night I felt his arms around me, his breath at my neck.
Felt his large, muscular body as it wrapped around me.
But when I woke in the morning, he was always gone.
The moment he appeared in this camp, he had been swarmed by his people, and I had been brought here.
Xavier had been keeping the bond between us tightly shut, and I understood why.
If Morgana could access him through me, through our bond—I should leave—could leave if I really wanted.
But why hadn’t I? Whatever this was between us was complicated and despite what was said, and done, it didn't change anything, not really.
Morgana could use me, force me to hurt them—him.
My stomach churned at the thought.
I should leave. Being here was risky, anything I heard or saw she would know.
Being here, she could force me to destroy them before this battle even began.
I needed to go. But if I was going to die—I wanted more time.
I didn’t want to be the reason his kingdom fell, his people died.
I didn’t want to be the reason his will was stripped from him.
She would make him turn on his people. Force him to do unspeakable things. Use him, like she used me.
I hadn’t known. She never told me that part of the plan, and I think she’d meant to keep it that way—to play that card at the precise moment it would give her the greatest leverage.
But his will, his soul was stronger than mine.
Xavier could keep that barrier closed, keep her control at bay… at least I hoped.
The memory of Atticus forcing me to take down Xavier’s shield had me gritting my teeth.
I tried to feel something, anything, about his death.
After all, I'd been with him for years. We must have had good moments, memories—right? I should’ve felt sad, or something, but I felt nothing.
Looking back now, I saw it more clearly.
The control, the greed, the lust, the need for power.
I should have seen it. Should have known that he was only using me.
The same way Morgana did. It had been obvious, and even Lana tried to warn me.
With nauseating realization, I rolled on the cot, pulling my legs to my chest under the tattered gray blanket. I did see it. I just hadn’t cared.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
So, when had I started to?
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Muffled shouting sounded, and I released the pressure on the pillow.
“Move out of my way, griffin shits. I am allowed to see her. ”
“The king's orders were—”
“Who do you think sent me here, your mother? Move.”
My eyes widened as grunts and shouts sounded, and then Cynthia was walking into my tent, a wide grin on her face.
She looked tired; she had dark circles under her eyes and her hair was frizzy from the rain.
She was covered in mud, and I wasn’t sure if the leather she wore was truly brown or if it was just stained.
In her hand, she had a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread.
“I brought snacks.”
I grinned at her, sitting up in my cot.
“What? No cheese?”
She rolled her eyes. “I have pockets, you know. Didn’t want this stupid weather to make them soggy.”
With a few steps in my direction, it looked as if she were about to plop onto the cot next to me. I held up my hands in warning.
“Don’t you dare even think about it.”
Cynthia stopped in front of me, glancing down at her mud-covered leathers with a frown, as if she hadn't noticed.
“Well, that’s going to be fun to get out.” She grimaced and shoved the bread and wine at me, turning and dragging the chair and table in the corner of the tent between us. Cynthia sat with a huff of breath, yawning as she waved at me in a rush to put the items on the table.
Chuckling, I did, folding my legs underneath me and pulling out the cork. I took a long gulp and passed it. Cynthia did the same and then pulled out a small wheel of cheese from her pocket and slammed a dagger onto the table next to it.
“You can do the honors. I’m too tired,” she said, taking another long sip.
I raised a brow at her, picking up the dagger and cutting into the wheel.
“Where have you been that has made you this tired?”
“Meeting with Lex.”
I almost dropped the dagger, my palm crashing to the table's edge and nearly toppling it.
“Watch it! I stole that cheese!”
“You were where?!”
She smirked. “I told them I would be helpful, it was my assignment. We would have been here yesterday if Theondrus hadn’t been so infuriating.
” Grumbling, she picked up a slice of cheese and popped it into her mouth.
“Anyway, I’ve made him aware of our plans, and Lex made me aware of theirs,” she said, waving a hand as if this information meant nothing.
“And?!”
Cynthia raised a brow. “And what?”
“What is the plan?!” Cynthia tilted her head. Her brows creased as if I said something outrageous. “Well, go on.”
“I can’t tell you, Zara,” she said it so softly, so gently that I wanted to rip her fucking head off. Can't tell me anything? What did she—my anger evaporated. Of course, she couldn’t tell me anything. Hadn't I just been deep in thought about that? Because if I knew anything, Morgana would.
The tension in my shoulders lessened, and I sighed. Cynthia looked pitifully at me, and the look on her face was only making it worse.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
Cynthia raised both her palms defensively, a smirk replacing the sad smile. “As you wish, princess.” She chuckled, winking at me as she held out the wine, waving it in my face.
I took it sharply, glaring at her, but a small smile stretched across my lips. Cynthia always knew how to do that. Make me smile, make me feel normal.
Cynthia’s grin dropped again.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can tell you one thing. It’s actually the reason I was allowed to come see you.” She lifted her warm brown eyes to mine, and something in my gut twisted. “Morgana and her armies will be here the day after tomorrow—at dawn.”