She’s right. I can barely stomach what I’ve done out of a misplaced desire for revenge over my mother’s death, when the culprit had called me daughter all along.

Tairna squeezes my hand. “Now, please, by the Flames, ask my Vayru to dance before he gives himself a stroke.”

I wipe my tears and manage a weak smile. My chair scrapes against the floor as I rise, though the sound is muffled by the loud music. Tairna was right—Zev is watching me. I almost buckle beneath his fierce gaze. He tracks the moisture on my cheeks, hand flexing at his side, before his stony gaze flits to his mother and morphs into an accusatory glare.

I take a deep breath.

With sure steps, I stride across the hall.

Zev’s eyes never leave me.

I can do this.

He’s only cold and cruel because he’s hurt.

Tides, I hope Tairna is right.

A muscular arm drops over my shoulders, halting my steps.

“Mayah!”

Tumaas spins me around, then locks me against his body with a hand splayed over my lower back. He brings my hand to his shoulder, rocking me in time with the upbeat music.

“Dance with me.” He smiles wide, until his dimple winks at me. I stumble, stepping on his foot, but he only laughs. Tumaas twirls me, my dress flaring out, before spinning me back into his arms.

I peer over his shoulder and find Zev. He’s still at the bar, face pinched and dark. His glass hits the counter with a dull thud, stormy gaze locked on the space where Tumaas’s hand rests on my lower back.

I wish he’d come storming across the floor, rip me from Tumaas’s arms, and claim me.

But he doesn’t.

Then, Tumaas spins me again, whirling me around the dance floor, and I lose sight of him. Tumaas dips his head, his lips close to my ear as he asks, “Are you all right?”

His touch is familiar, but I tense. Not because it’s unwelcome—but because someone else is watching.

“It’s just a lot to take in.”

Tumaas hums, twirling me away, then pulling me back. I try to mimic the carefree sway of the others, but my limbs feel too stiff, too heavy—like I wasn’t made for this kind of joy. I stumble again, and he chuckles. “Sura mentioned you wanted to dance but were nervous. You’re doing great.”

My brow furrows. Scheming Sura. The years have passed, but here she is, still hoping I’ll end up with her brother.

Apparently, even my marriage isn’t going to stop her.

When the song ends, I twist in Tumaas’s arms, searching.

But he’s gone.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

MY BOOTS THUD AGAINST the floor as I careen around the narrow corner, torchlight flickering in my tailwind. The door announces my tardiness with a loud creak. Four pairs of eyes swing to me.

I’m late for another council meeting—except instead of ice walls and icy glares, I’m met with Tairna’s dimly lit office and her warm smile. Huddled around her large table are Zev and her advisers, Rycken and Lyzza.

“Mayah,” Tairna greets, her eyes crinkling. “Another late shift at the infirmary?”

“Yeah.” I force a laugh. “Tumaas needs to keep a better eye on wayward children in the forge.”

There are two open chairs: one by Rycken, a quiet but pleasant man in his forties, and one by Zev. I bite my lip and head toward the seat by Rycken, but Zev yanks out the one beside him with a low grunt.

My steps falter. Biting my lip, I change my trajectory midway and settle in beside my husband. He doesn’t spare me another glance.

“The Volcans arrive this week,” Tairna continues. “We need to be ready to attack.”

“We—Arbinj has a base near the coast,” Zev rumbles, pointing to the worn map unfurled across the desk. “There are at least a thousand men stationed. Will the Volcans have enough soldiers?”

Lantern light glints off his thick iron cuff, the metal scraping against the table. I glance at my own wrists. Tairna removed my cuffs days ago, and I’ve been healing in the infirmary ever since, alternating shifts with one other healer and two nonwielding medics. But despite being Tairna’s son, the Dark Commander wasn’t given the same grace.

I absently drag my thumb over my bare ring finger. Since that night at the dance, I’ve spoken to Zev only a handful of times—always during meetings with Tairna. The few times I’ve seen him outside of that, it’s somehow always when Tumaas has pulled me into a giant bearhug. Zev disappears quickly after that.

I sleep alone and wake alone—on the nights Zev does spend in our room, he folds himself onto the small sofa after I’ve already fallen asleep. I only know he’s been there by the neatly folded blanket and lingering smoke-and-pine scent.

Something sharp and desperate and anguished claws at my ribs, in the space where my heart used to be. But I have no one to blame but myself for this gaping hole in my chest.

“And this base?” Tairna asks, jolting me from my thoughts. She points to another spot on the map, further inland.

Zev scratches his stubbled jaw. “Five hundred men.” He frowns. “No. Less after the last Rebellion attack. Four hundred.”

Tairna stares at him, then glances at her advisers. Rycken shrugs one broad shoulder while Lyzza shakes her head, chocolate-brown curls fluttering.

“We didn’t attack that base,” Tairna says, a deep crease etched between her brows.

A beat passes in utter silence.

“That can’t be,” Zev says, scowling. “There were at least three attacks on Arbinji bases within the last month. Armored nonwielders. It looked like Rebellion…” He trails off, his sharp eyes cutting sideways to me.

My stomach drops.

His knuckles flare white. Tension brackets his jaw, and he turns away so quickly that his neck cracks.

Tairna doesn’t seem to understand my treachery as quickly.

I hesitate, licking my lips. “My father staged those attacks. To draw Zev away from the palace. So that I could…” I struggle to find the words, shrinking under Rycken and Lyzza’s shrewd appraisal.

Understanding slowly dawns on Tairna’s face. Zev must have told her everything.

What I did. What I was planning to do.

“That’s in the past,” she says, her voice firm. “We’re all on the same side now.” Her stern gaze travels around the table but settles longest on her son.

She rustles the map, clearing her throat loudly, but that doesn’t ease the heavy tension blanketing the room.

“Yes, the Volcans will have enough soldiers,” she continues, dark eyes leveled on Zev. “I’ll send a message to my men in both palaces. They’ll be ready.”

Zev doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move, doesn’t even take a breath. He just keeps staring at the map, eyes cold and blank.

“That’s all for today,” Tairna says softly, concerned gaze fixed on the stormy man beside me.

Everyone rises, chairs scraping against the quiet, but she rests her hand on Zev’s shoulder. “Stay a moment.”

I linger, weight shifting between my feet, hands wringing together as Rycken and Lyzza file out of the room with murmured goodbyes. Tairna gives me another warm smile, but this time, it’s a dismissal.

The threadbare sheets scratch against my legs as I nestle beneath the covers. Sura helped me scrounge clothing from around the camp, including two indecently short nightgowns. And if I alternate wearing them every night in the hopes that Zev might see me, well, that’s no one’s business but my own.

It’s been fruitless so far—he hasn’t entered the room while I’ve been here. Not while I’m awake, anyway. Sometimes, I swear the ghost of his familiar footsteps echoes in the corridor, but there’s never anyone there when I check.

My eyes slowly flutter closed. After the council meeting, I helped Tumaas in the forge to pass the time, coating arrowheads with melted iron, the memory of Zev’s power coursing through me dominating my thoughts. If Tumaas noticed I was distracted, that my mind was steeping in regret and longing, he didn’t comment on it.