Zev casts me an apologetic look. “The safest way to alert them of my return is to summon a storm.”
I nod stiffly, holding my breath and resisting the urge to cover my ears. I won’t cower, not in front of the enemy.
No.
Not my enemy. They’re my future people.
I need to remember that.
But it’s hard to look at a camp full of Arbinji soldiers and think of anything but death.
Zev scans my face for a beat, his hand twitching at his side, as if he wants to reach for me. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he turns back toward the camp. The sky darkens, large storm clouds gathering overhead.
My heart forgets to beat, and I force myself to take deep, even breaths. Zev’s eyes cut to me again. They burn into the side of my face, but I keep my gaze fixed ahead.
The din of chatter quiets. Some of the men stare at the sky.
Zev raises a hand.
Thunder rumbles.
The sky splits open, and a massive bolt of lightning hits the spire.
A panicked cry escapes my cowardly lips, and I’m relieved the thunder drowns it out. Zev’s fingers twitch again, and this time, he grabs my hand, squeezing tightly.
I squeeze back.
The rhythm of my sniveling heart slowly settles.
My attention returns to the camp. It’s gone eerily quiet, the men slack-jawed. Then, they all jump into action.
“The Commander has returned!” one man shouts. The soldiers line up in formation, neat rows stretching back endlessly.
Zev takes a deep breath. “Ready?”
I’m not, but I nod anyway.
We walk into the camp, side by side. The men cheer for their returned Commander, though their voices falter when they catch sight of me. I keep my chin high, shoulders square.
“Commander!” a burly, dark-haired man greets. “We had thought you dead. The attack—”
“We survived, Sulon. Clearly,” Zev interrupts. “Tell me the developments. Quickly.”
The hulking man’s narrowed gaze flicks to me, then back to Zev. “The Tundrayni forces found the attacked carriages. It was difficult to identify the bodies—it’s tense, sire. Tormik blames Arbinj, says we planned the attack to kill his daughter.” Another quick glance at me. I flinch at the casual use of Father’s name, the foregone honorific. “The only thing that prevented a retaliatory attack is the fact that you’ve been missing as well.”
“You didn’t send search parties for us?”
Sulon shakes his head. “Tormik wouldn’t allow more Arbinji soldiers on Tundrayni land. He said he sent his own search parties.”
Zevayr sighs, raking a hand through his dark hair. “We leave for the capital immediately. Ready a squad to accompany us.”
Within thirty minutes, I’m staring at two large stallions, flanked by ten armored riders. Zev straps on fresh armor, securing his weapons. When he’s done, he approaches me. “The capital is about a day’s ride away. I’m sure you want to rest, but we shouldn’t delay any longer. Not when the ceasefire is so precarious.”
I hadn’t wanted to stay anyway. The thought of spending the night in a camp filled with Arbinji soldiers fills me with dread.
“Zev,” I whisper, glancing nervously at the steeds. “I don’t know how to ride. We don’t have horses in Tundrayn.”
Zev eyes me for a beat, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “You can—”
“She can ride with me,” Sulon cuts in, his dark eyes practically caressing my face.
I flinch, my gaze snapping to the broad, muscled man. His stare crawls over me, heavy with a promise I don’t dare name—what he’d do if he caught me alone.
“No,” Zev says gruffly. “She’ll ride with me.”
“But, sire—”
“Are you questioning my orders?” His voice is tight with anger. A distant rumble of thunder sounds overhead.
“No, no,” Sulon stammers. “It’s just … you’ve been burdened with her for weeks. I only thought—”
“Don’t think.”
Sulon’s mouth tightens with displeasure, and I don’t miss the gleam of pure hatred in his eyes as he rakes his gaze over me.
Neither does Zev.
Like lightning, he clamps Sulon’s face in a punishing grip. “Something you’d like to say to your future queen?” he snarls.
“No, sire,” Sulon sputters, his face turning a splotchy red. The other soldiers watch closely, whispering amongst themselves.
“Bow to her.”
Sulon hesitates, eyes widening in shock.
The soldiers have gone silent.
Zev’s voice booms like thunder. “Now!”
With a loud thud, Sulon drops to his knees. He bows his head before me, muscles twitching. Zev watches him for what feels like ages, but Sulon doesn’t dare rise, not without Zev’s permission.
It never comes.
When he brushes past Sulon, the air around him crackles.
This is the Dark Commander.
And he’s terrifying.
I cast a glance at the soldiers. Their eyes are colder than the tundra.
Zev mounts his horse, then extends a hand, helping me up behind him. His smoke-and-pine scent surrounds me, and I resist the urge to melt into him.
He glares at Sulon, still on the floor. “Remain kneeling until we’re out of sight.”
Zev digs his heels into the horse’s flank, and the stallion lurches forward. I jerk back with a gasp, my grip tightening around Zev’s waist.
We set off.
My fate awaits me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MY THIGHS ACHE. WE’VE been riding for hours at a breakneck pace. I’ve tried to maintain an appropriate distance between my chest and Zev’s back, especially with his soldiers surrounding us, but I gave up forty minutes ago when my fatigue outweighed propriety.
Now, I’m pressed flush against his muscular back, leaning against him for support. Irritation bubbles inside me, and I’ve been waiting to unleash my rage on him. It’s been too loud with the thundering of hooves for a proper conversation.
He raises an arm, signaling his men to stop.
Finally.
The horses slow, then halt. He dismounts easily before helping me down, large hands bracketing my waist.
The words spill from my lips. “You shouldn’t have made Sulon bow like that. The men will resent me for it. You’re not doing me any favors.”
His lips twitch, gray eyes scanning my face, lingering on the crease between my brows. “I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”
His quick apology catches me off guard, and his earnest face cools my simmering rage. I wanted to argue with him more, but I’m forced to just nod stiffly.
“I need to sit with the men,” he murmurs, an apology in his eyes. “I’ve been gone for so long, it’s important to rebuild rapport. Do you feel comfortable sitting with us?”
I’m nervous around Arbinji soldiers. It’s strange, given how comfortable I am with the man who leads them. “I’ll come. But I won’t tolerate disrespect,” I warn.
His lips quirk into a half-smile. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”
I follow him to where the soldiers sit in a small circle. An earthwielder has grown stalks of corn, and the men roast them over the fire. What an amazing ability—to never be without food, never worry about depleted reserves. Never go hungry.
The soldiers grow quiet as we approach.
First, Zev asks each of the soldiers about themselves and their families. The soldiers keep their responses short—and clean—as their eyes flick to me.
“Any trouble with the Rebellion?” Zev asks, finishing off a stalk of corn and grabbing another.
“No, sire. They’ve been quiet since the attack on your party,” one of the men says. He laughs, adding, “Probably nursing their wounds after facing your wrath.”
The other men chuckle in agreement, the ones closest to Zev slapping him on the back. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Zev glances at me, as he has every few minutes, and I must not conceal my expression well enough because his lips curve into a soft smile, one brow arched in amusement.
