Between Tides Thunder(105)

“Not about strategy or plans or anything,” I add quickly. “Tell me about your life. About Tumaas.”

“It’s been surprisingly … good. Happy. I have friends. A purpose. I’m a warrior, of course, but outside of that, I look after the camp’s children.”

I smile softly, imagining vibrant Sura with a gaggle of little ones around her. “That’s perfect for you.”

She hums, a bright smile on her face.

“Tumaas works in the forge. He and I share a room, which gets … awkward at times. He’s missed you terribly! I can’t wait to see his face when he sees you.”

Zev’s body is taut beside me.

“I’ve missed him, too. Both of you.”

If Zev doesn’t take a breath soon, someone might mistake him for a statue.

The carriage lurches to a stop, and Sura bolts to her feet. “We’re here!” she sings. “Don’t move.” She flounces from the carriage, leaving me alone with my husband.

Silence stretches between us, pressing down on my lungs.

I can’t bear it.

“You didn’t have to come with me.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I would’ve been fine on my own.”

“I didn’t come for you,” he huffs. The words land harder than they should. I brace myself against them, but still, they find the softest parts of me and burrow inside. “I want to see Tairna’s work. What she chose over me.” Bitterness threads his voice, and my heart aches for him even as his words tear open a wound still struggling to heal.

“I’m sorry.” My hand wavers. I want to reach for him.

I don’t.

“But your mother is still alive, Zev. You can decide how your story ends. I’d give anything to be standing where you are.”

His head swivels, and he stares at me with a haunted expression—

The carriage door opens.

“We’re ready for you,” Sura announces in her lilting voice. I let her tug me from the carriage, Zev close behind.

The Rebellion camp is modest but alive with purpose. Everywhere I look, there are people hard at work—sharpening blades, mending clothes, hauling supplies. It hums with efficiency. With life.

But what surprises me most are the actual buildings, several of them rising four, even five stories tall. I’d expected ramshackle structures or canvas tents.

Sura catches my stare and grins. “Earthwielders,” she tells me proudly. “They reinforce the ground with roots, then grow more to cradle the beams. Add in a little metal, and you get something strong enough to last through a siege.”

Waterwielders contribute as well, managing the camp’s plumbing and irrigation systems. The camp is far more advanced than I expected. Sura tells us this is the largest of several camps, surrounded by a well-guarded, wrought-metal fence.

As we explore the camp, the rebels eye me with curiosity. But when their gazes land on Zev, their expressions morph into fear, and sometimes, even open animosity.

The Dark Commander’s reputation precedes him.

Sura and Tairna lead us to a forge, where the smell of smoke and metal clings to the air. Three men work at different stations, all covered in a slick sheen of sweat. Two of them hammer glowing swords, whilst a third coats arrowheads in a thick, shiny liquid.

My breath catches.

I recognize the third man—sunkissed skin, the sides of his head shaved down, dark braids cascading down his back. A worn leather apron is tied haphazardly across his chest, but the carefree man didn’t bother putting on a shirt beneath it.

He’s so focused on his task, he doesn’t notice us.

“Tumaas,” Sura calls in her sing-song voice.

“I don’t have any more coin for you, Sura,” he calls back without looking up. “Leave me be.”

“Tu-maaaaas,” she sings again. Her smile is so wide, it brings tears to my eyes. I can’t remember the last time I smiled, let alone that brightly.

“Tides drown you, Sura,” Tumaas mutters, shaking out a dripping arrowhead before glancing up.

He stills.

The arrowhead falls to the ground with a muted thud, silver liquid pooling into a metallic puddle by his feet.

“It’s Mayah-bear!” Sura squeals, but Tumaas is already running. My footsteps match his own, and we meet in the middle. He lifts me clear into the air, twirling in a fast circle. My loose hair flies around me, a surprised peal of laughter escaping my chest.

He’s gained even more muscle. The years have hardened his face, sharp lines where there were softer angles, but his eyes are the same.

Kind. Warm. Friendly.

My hands are slick with the sweat coating his shoulders, so I wipe them on his cheeks. He throws his head back and laughs—loud and unguarded—and I can’t help but laugh with him, until tears gather at the corners of my eyes, blurring the world with joy.

Over Tumaas’s head, my eyes land on Zev. His steely stare is a brand on my skin. For one foolish heartbeat, I want him to storm over to me—to clasp my hand and pull me away. To say something. Anything.

His fists clench at his sides, but he doesn’t move.

Tumaas sets me down and pulls me into an embrace, crushing me against his firm, sweaty chest. “My sweet Mayah,” he murmurs into my hair.

“Let her breathe, you big oaf,” Sura calls.