To alter the agreement now when I’m at his mercy—

Anger rages inside me, a relentless tidal wave of fury, at this blatant insult to Tundrayn. “Was my father made aware of this ‘change in plan’?” I ask stiffly. I can’t help the ice that frosts my voice.

Zev’s gone stock still beside me.

“Not yet,” Varad says with a cold smirk, long fingers steepled beneath his chin. “We weren’t even sure you were still alive. We’ll dispatch a message posthaste with the good news. And your decision.” He arches a thick brow. “You’ll marry my second son, yes?”

His cruel eyes bore into me, daring me to say no.

The tidesdamned murdering, manipulative bastard.

I inhale shakily, steeling myself. “I—”

“I need to speak with Mayah.”

Zev’s hand closes around my wrist like a vise. Varad’s protests fall on deaf ears as he drags me from the throne room. In the hallway, he bursts through the first door we come across.

There’s some type of meeting taking place, stuffy-looking advisers seated around a round table. Silence descends as we enter, confused eyes landing on us.

“Out,” Zev snarls. “Now.”

The words have barely left his mouth when everyone rises, chairs scraping against the stone floor, and quickly exits, heads bowed lest they invite their prince’s wrath.

As soon as the door shuts, I whirl on him.

“Did you know?” I hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest.

His hands raise in surrender. “I swear I didn’t, Mayah. When I left Arbinj, it was to bring you here to marry my brother.”

I begin pacing the room.

“If your brother marries the Volcan princess, and I wed you, Arbinj will have ties to both Volca and Tundrayn. It’ll be stronger than ever.”

“Yes,” he says quietly, gray eyes flicking back and forth as he watches me pace.

“Faramir will be king of Arbinj and Volca. And when I become queen … you’ll be king of Tundrayn. Your father means to control my kingdom while giving nothing of his own power.”

“Yes,” Zev repeats, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

My feet lead me to the large window. I stare down at the capital, gears shifting in my head. “And if I refuse to marry you…” I muse quietly. “Your father could have me thrown into the dungeons. Killed. Or worse.” My eyes cut to Zev’s. “He won’t let me return home.”

Zev comes to stand beside me. “No. He won’t.”

I take a deep, shaky breath.

“Your father wants me to refuse. Wants me to give him a reason.”

Zev nods. I can’t read his expression—he’s completely stoic.

I’m silent for a long time, staring out at a city that hates me.

I can’t return home.

I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I won’t disappoint my people.

I came here for peace. For Tundrayn.

There is only one path forward.

“Yes.” My voice is quiet. Determined. Zev’s brow furrows, and I add, “I’ll marry you.”

He blinks. His mouth moves like he wants to argue.

“Mayah…” he says softly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“But I do. If I refuse, there will be no alliance. Your father will make me vanish. Or he could attack Tundrayn. That is, if my father doesn’t attack first. War will ravage the realm. I have to marry you.” A thought occurs to me, sudden and unwelcome. “Unless … unless there’s someone else.”

“No.” He shakes his head firmly, mouth contorting into a grimace. “There’s no one else. It’s just—” Anguish mars his handsome face. “It should be your choice.”

I place a hand on his arm. “This is my choice,” I whisper softly, gazing up at him. “I’m choosing to survive.”

His face looks pained, as if that wasn’t quite the answer he wanted.

I step closer until our boots are touching.

“Well?” My voice is a quiet murmur. “Will you marry me, Zev?”

So many emotions cross his face, I can’t read them all. But the last one is steely resolve, tempered by tenderness.

He cradles my face, calloused hands gentle on my skin. His forehead rests against mine.

Then—“Yes.” A breathless rasp. A hard swallow, his gray eyes brimming with affection. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The intensity in his eyes is so overpowering, I nearly tear my gaze away. He traces my cheek reverently with his thumb.

“I should have done this the night we danced beneath the stars,” he murmurs, his breath fanning my lips. “Know that it will always be my greatest regret.”

And then he kisses me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

ZEV DOESN’T JUST KISS me—he devours me.

His lips move passionately against mine, deep and aching, fingers gripping my chin. With his other hand, he pulls me flush against him, chests pressed together, so close his every breath draws out my own. He coaxes my mouth open with his lips, tongue brushing mine in a soft stroke. A low moan slips free, and I melt into his chest.

He breaks away, trembling fingers finding my hand.

“Take off his ring,” he growls, tugging it from my finger. It clatters to the floor, forgotten. “I’ll get you another one.”

And then he’s kissing me again, slower this time, as if he wants to memorize the feel of my lips against his.

As if we have all the time in the world.

As if his brother and father aren’t plotting against me in the throne room.

None of that seems to matter to Zev. His entire focus narrows to me, and the thought sends a warm fluttering pulse of desire coiling through my veins. He kisses me until I’m dizzy, until his intoxicating smoke-and-pine scent dominates my senses, until my lips are swollen from his attentions.

He kisses me as if he’s been waiting for me his entire life.

When he finally pulls away, his chest is heaving, hands lingering on my face. His eyes are dark with barely restrained desire, as if he wants nothing more than to keep kissing me senseless. My knees buckle, and he huffs a quiet laugh, holding me steady against him. We’re both panting, and there’s a smile on my lips that I can’t contain.

Zev’s expression mirrors my own. He brushes his lips across my brow. “Let’s go tell them.”

For the second time in less than an hour, Zev leads me back to the throne room, but this time, our hands are intertwined. Varad’s arms are crossed tightly, fingers drumming on his bicep. Faramir looks bored, cleaning his nails with a dagger. Both men straighten as we enter.

“I have thought long and hard on your proposal,” I announce, my voice loud and steady. “I would be honored to marry Prince Zevayr, Second Son of Arbinj, Commander of the Arbinji armies.”

Silence.

Varad frowns, his eyes dropping to our joined hands. His scowl deepens. “I would advise thinking on it harder, Princess. You are the heir to Tundrayn. Its future queen.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “If you refuse, you’d be welcome to return home, of course.”

Zev jerks beside me, his fingers tightening around mine in an iron-tight grip almost to the point of pain.

I cast him a concerned glance before turning back to Varad and adding, “That won’t be necessary. Please inform my father. I am certain in my decision. The Rebellion grows ever stronger—they were bold enough to attack our entourage. It’s time our people were joined as one.”

Faramir finally looks up, cold eyes sharpening with interest. His gaze, too, drops to our joined hands, and his lips curl into a cruel smile.

Varad is silent. Smoke practically wafts from his ears.

Good.

I’ve left him with no choice, and he knows it.

“Wonderful,” he says tightly. “The wedding will occur in a fortnight—”

“Tomorrow,” Zev cuts in. “The wedding will be tomorrow.”

“So eager for your nuptials, brother?” Faramir sneers, narrowed eyes still fixed on me.

Varad frowns. “That’s not enough time to plan a wedding. The nobles—”