I let her lead us forward.

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.