Between Tides Thunder(53)
“Can I come with you?”
Another remorseful twisting of his mouth. I purse my lips.
“Faramir and my father will be there,” he says. “It’s best you avoid them.”
I frown, playing with a loose thread on the blanket. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
“Read the books from the library? Help plan the Equinox Festival?”
My frown morphs into a glare. I don’t like this. It feels too much like being a prisoner.
“I know it’s not ideal,” he says quickly, resting his palm over my knee. “Just give me some time.”
“So that’s it? I just wait in a pretty room until the next dance or dress fitting?”
“No,” he says firmly, squeezing my knee. “You live. And you stay safe.”
I huff, fingers fisting in the blanket. “Can I explore the palace?”
“Not without me.”
The irritation simmering inside my chest boils over.
I jump to my feet, fully intent on storming away, but he was expecting it—Zev grabs my ankle, yanking me back. I tumble down, crashing into him, the breath knocked from my lungs.
He’s ready for me, though—he catches me easily, cradling me in his arms. His eyes are bright, like he’s having the time of his life.
It pisses me off even more.
I writhe, trying to escape his grasp, but he’s too strong. He just holds me tighter until I wear myself out.
When I hang limply in his arms, he asks, “Done?” with a half-smile.
I scowl, refusing to look at him. He cradles me closer to his chest.
“You know I’m not actually a baby, right?” I snap, hitting his shoulder. “You don’t have to hold me like one.”
“How should I hold you, then?” Amusement dances in his gray gaze.
Don’t hold me at all, I want to say, but the words won’t pass my lips. I’m worried he’ll listen and let me go, and I don’t really want him to.
I just can’t admit it.
So I don’t say anything at all.
He sighs, tilting my chin toward him. I keep my eyes fixed firmly over his shoulder.
“Mayah,” he murmurs so softly, I can’t help but meet his gaze. “I left you alone last night for a few minutes, and you were attacked. The war between our kingdoms has raged for decades—it will take time for the citizens to forget. To heal. There could be other people who want to hurt you. Just … don’t leave our chambers without me, okay? I’ll spend every free minute with you.”
“I could explore the palace with my guards. What good are they if I’m not safe with them?” He traces the line of my jaw with his thumb before tucking a loose curl behind my ear.
There’s so much tidesdamned reverence in his touch.
Tides drown me, I can feel my anger melting.
“I could assign you fifty guards, but Faramir can order every single one away.” He cups my cheek. “I want you to be happy here, Mayah. Happy with me. But I also need to keep you safe. Would you let me wander around the Tundrayni palace alone?” He pretends to think, finger tapping against his cheek. “Actually, don’t answer that.”
An amused huff escapes me, and he grins. His smile is slowly becoming my favorite sight. Maybe because he reserves it just for me. I’ve only ever seen him scowl at others.
My heart caves, even as my mind screams that this is a mistake.
“All right.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THE TYRANT GATHERED A massive following, wielders of every sort, swayed by promises of gold and power and prestige, sowing death and despair across the lands —
I yawn, stretching my legs out on the large bed. The book snaps shut in my lap. I should have started with the Arbinji history tome, but I was curious about what story Zev loved as a child. I don’t dwell on that decision.
Instead, I check the time. The sun set hours ago, and I haven’t seen Zev since last night. He was already gone when I woke. Irritation blooms inside me, even as another yawn forces past my lips. I listened to him and didn’t leave our chambers, all my meals delivered here. Eaten alone. Like a tidesdamned prisoner in a gilded cage.
Irritation swells into rage. Tides damn this. I’m determined to remain awake so I can throttle Zev when he finally deems to show his face.
Sleep claims me anyway.
Again, I wake alone the next morning, but it’s clear Zev has been to bed—the sheets on his side are rumpled, his faint, smoky scent lingering in the air. And if I press his pillow over my face and inhale deeply, even as anger roils in my stomach, well, that’s no one’s business but my own.
I head to the washroom for a quick bath—my handmaids have thankfully agreed to ready me only for formal events. After emerging, I sit at Zev’s—our—large wooden desk, rummaging in the drawer for parchment and a quill.
It’s time I wrote home.
Dearest Father,
I trust you are well. By now, you must have heard of my nuptials to Prince Zevayr. I imagine you must be shocked. I was, too, at first. But I realized this was the best decision for both myself and Tundrayn.
You need not worry for my safety. Zevayr has treated me with kindness and respect. He protected me during our journey to Arbinj. I believe he has grown to care for me. I feel safe with him.