But he’s too late.

Heavy footsteps thunder closer.

“What the fuck are you doing to my wife?!” Zev roars, emerging through the trees. His face is cut from stone, a wrathful god. Cold fury blazes in his eyes, his muscles tight with tension.

“I… sire, I—”

Zev raises a hand. All six men freeze, their bodies unnaturally still.

I hold my breath.

When I release it, the men begin to jerk, stiff and erratic. The stench of burning metal permeates my nostrils. Their screams cut off like a snapped wire—soundless and sudden.

Daak. The vision of his body writhing the same way batters my mind.

A chorus of heavy thuds echoes as the men drop to the ground one by one, but it’s muffled over the sound of my wails.

I’m sobbing, tears streaming down my face.

Grief and fear and relief and humiliation and fury take turns raging inside me, fighting for dominance.

Zev falls to his knees. He reaches for me, and I recoil, nearly tumbling backward if not for the roots still holding me prisoner.

“Skies, Mayah,” he whispers, eyes brimming with remorse. With so much pain. And another emotion, one I know as well as my name—guilt.

He reaches out again slowly, like I’m a skittish animal, cradling my battered face. “What did they do to you?”

“You did this to me,” I hiss through tears, jerking away from him. “You left me with them. Did you know he’d try to—” My mouth moves, but nothing comes out.

Just a sob. Just shame.

“I swear I didn’t. He said he’d keep wat—”

“You left me here alone! Bound and helpless! A Tundrayni woman with six Arbinji soldiers!” I scream in his face. Fresh sobs tear out of me, and I curl in on myself, shoulders shaking.

“Fuck, Mayah. I—”

Zev unsheathes his dagger. His hands are gentle as he saws through the roots binding my wrists, then my ankles. I wince as the thorns are pulled from my skin, bright wounds weeping blood where they pierced my flesh. With a deft swipe, he slices through the rope that binds my hands.

My wrists are chafed beneath the iron bracelets still encasing them. My tears flow harder, violent shudders wracking my body.

Escape. I need to escape.

“Mayah…” He sounds uncertain, hand poised over my shoulder, seemingly unsure if he should touch me.

I snatch the dagger from his grip.

He lets me.

“Off, off, I want them off,” I pant. “I can still feel his hands.” I wedge the sharp blade between my bruised skin and the iron cuff, digging in, trying to unlock it.

“Wait, I have the key—”

“Don’t touch me!” I shout, scrambling backwards. I work the blade harder into my flesh, gritting my teeth at the pain.

“Mayah, stop, let me—”

My hands are shaking.

My heart is racing.

One hard yank and—

—the dagger opens a violent gash down the length of my arm.

Zev swears, loud and panicked.

Hot blood gushes from the wound, coating my clothes, seeping into the wet earth. Zev scrambles over to me, knocking the dagger from my hands. He holds out my wrist, and the blood flows faster.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses. “You need to heal yourself.” With two quick clicks, he uncuffs me, the iron bracelets falling to the ground with a dull thud.

My eyes flutter closed.

“Skies, Mayah—focus.” He shakes my shoulders. “You’re bleeding too fast. Heal yourself. Now.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

THE MOMENT THE IRON drops, my power surges back like water breaking through a dam. It’s hot, it’s cold, it’s everything at once—slamming into me like a second heartbeat.

My blood drips onto the ground in a steady stream.

The air thickens, until it’s difficult to draw breath. With every inhale, my eyelids stay closed just a second longer.

“Mayah.” Zev’s panicked voice is in my ear. He shakes my shoulders again. “Heal yourself. Please.”

I close my eyes, searching for my power. A soft, whimpering moan escapes me.

“What? There’s nothing in your bloodstream. The iron is gone. You should—” His voice cracks as I slump against him. My eyes are closed. His panicked breath flutters through my hair, and his chest rises and falls rapidly against my cheek.

Blood still seeps from my wrist.

“Fuck, Mayah. Just—Lightning strike me, just hold on.” He falls silent, palms pressed on either side of my neck.

At first, there’s nothing. Not a single sound, not a whisper, not even a breeze, as if the entire forest is holding its breath along with him.

Then it hits.

A familiar rush, hot and heady and him. Zev’s power surges through me, mingling and twisting with my own.

His power revitalizes me. Invigorates me.

He cradles my face. “Try now,” he urges. “Quickly.”

I call to my power. My hand glows with soft, white light, and I pass it over the weeping gash in my arm. My skin mends, the edges of the deep cut knitting together.

Zev breathes a sigh of relief, sitting on his heels as the deep wound knits back together.

Until it doesn’t.

The light from my hand stutters, the white glow flickering gently at first, then faster, until it vanishes completely.

The cut is only half healed. Fresh blood still oozes out steadily. Slowly, I meet Zev’s wide eyes with my own. I swallow hard, breath escaping in sharp pants.

Without a word, he returns his hands to my neck, channeling yet more of his power into me. It crackles through my body like lightning trapped in bone.

I’ve never felt this way—invincible.

Like I could do anything. Everything.

My healing power thrums inside me, and my hands glow once more. This time, it doesn’t waver. I heal the gash on my wrist, then my bloodied ankles and split lip.

Zev watches in silence.

When my body is whole, I meet his gaze.

He opens his mouth and—

—I attack.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

IDRINK IN THE SHOCK on Zev’s face like zinfadelan.

It had been a risky move—purposefully slitting my own wrist, then pretending I couldn’t heal myself. My reserves were low, but even the weakest healer could’ve still sealed a flesh wound, deep as it were. It was a foolish, reckless gamble, betting that he wouldn’t let me bleed out in his arms.

But one that paid off.

His borrowed power surges through my veins. I’ve never felt such strength, such awareness. My body senses every drop of water in the vicinity—every tiny molecule. In the ground, coating the leaves, in the air.

The wave that hits him isn’t planned—it’s instinct.

With a twist of my hand, I send another one crashing into his chest. He flies backward, head knocking against the ground. I don’t stop. My arms glide through the air. The water responds. Zev struggles to his feet, but another massive wave waits for him. They crash into him again and again.

The sky tears open, and it begins to rain.

I freeze.

Waiting. Listening.

Except there’s no thunder. No lightning.

He must be too weak—how much of his power did he give me? I study him, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts, sweat beading on his brow. He looks half-drained, like he poured everything into me without hesitation.

My heart lurches. Why would he do that? I betrayed him. I revealed myself as his enemy. Why would—

I don’t have time to dwell on it. A slow, molten heat is already unfurling in my belly, hot and insistent. My skin tingles. My breath saws through my lungs. Tides damn me—I don’t have much time before the aphrodisiac effects overwhelm me.