Between Tides Thunder(70)

I don’t regret what we did. Not at all. And if we hadn’t been interrupted, then we’d have—

With a deep sigh, I fill the tub with steaming water and a generous handful of bath salts before lowering myself in. Water laps at my skin in gentle ripples, soothing any lingering aches in my legs and back.

I soak for nearly fifteen minutes before the door opens in our chambers, followed by the familiar thud of Zev’s boots. His footsteps grow louder, and then the bathroom door swings open.

Stormy gray eyes ensnare me where I’m shoulder-deep in bubbles. There’s a petulant twist to his mouth, and my lips curve into a smile.

Then I take in the rest of him. He’s dressed for battle—dark leather pants, metal shield strapped to his chest, bracers covering his forearms. My brows knit together, and Zev sighs. His footsteps are measured as he stalks closer, kneeling on the tile behind me.

“My wife was not where I left her,” he murmurs, brushing my hair away from my neck. His lips are gentle as he presses a lingering kiss against my pulse.

“Your wife grew impatient.” A beat. “Where are you going?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he skims his nose along the column of my neck, inhaling deeply as if wanting to commit my scent to memory. A muscled arm comes to rest over my chest, the bathwater soaking his sleeve.

“The border. We suspect the Rebellion will launch another attack.”

My stomach plummets.

“When do you leave?”

“An hour ago,” he says grimly.

My breath catches, dread freezing my blood. “Zev—”

“I’ll be all right.” He cups my face gently, but tension roughens his voice. “I need to know that you’ll be.”

“I will,” I reassure softly. “How long will you be gone?”

“It’s hard to say. A week? Maybe more.” His stubbled chin rests on my shoulder, head propped against mine. “But I won't miss the Equinox Festival. Not when my wife has been tirelessly planning it.”

My eyes flutter closed, reclining against him.

I want to savor this moment.

“If they breach the Arbinji defenses, we won’t be safe here either,” he adds quietly.

My eyes snap open. “You think they’ll come for the palace?”

“If I were leading them,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple, “I would.” With two fingers he scoops some of the suds, massaging the white foam into my collarbones. “I convinced my brother to come,” he adds. “We’ll keep him out of danger, but I said it would raise morale for the soldiers to see him.” What he really means is he doesn’t want his brother anywhere near me while he’s away. “My father will remain here, though. Try to avoid him.”

I nod. Thank the Tides that Faramir will be gone. I shudder just thinking of his cold eyes and slimy taunts.

Zev brushes a kiss to my temple. “When I return, let’s visit Tundrayn,” he murmurs in my ear.

Surprise flickers in my chest. “Really?”

I don’t know what to think.

“Yeah. I know you miss your father. And it’ll be nice to escape the palace for a while.”

“What about the Rebellion? Your father and brother?”

He shrugs. “They’ll figure it out. Or they won’t. If it becomes too pressing, I’ll head to the border from Tundrayn. But at least I’ll know you’ll be safe in your home.”

My heart swells with warmth. “I’d like that,” I say softly. I bring a wet hand out from the water to tangle in his hair, nuzzling the side of his face. “But aren’t you worried? You wouldn’t stay in the palace for more than an hour last time.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” he chuckles. “And I’m hoping your father and people will warm up to me once they see their princess is safe and well cared for.” He swallows. “And happy. That I make her happy.”

The silence between us thrums with a question.

The water laps at my skin as I twist in his arms, kneeling in the tub to face him. His beautiful gray eyes are so open, so vulnerable. I grab him by the collar and kiss him like I can burn the memory of it into his bones.

It’s the only way I can express my answer.

When we part for air, foreheads pressed together, I fear my heart might burst from the strong, all-consuming emotion coursing through it. I’m hesitant to give it a name.

“Tides protect you, Zev,” I whisper against his lips. “I’ll miss you.”

His steel gray eyes search mine, but I don’t know for what. His throat bobs as he swallows, his breath escaping in a shuddering exhale. One more deep, aching kiss is all he allows himself—one last taste of me—before leaving. He doesn’t say goodbye.

I stare at the closed door, a strange mix of emotions roiling in my chest like the angry, open sea. Zev barreled into my life mere months ago, and yet my soul burns for him, as if it forgot how to exist on its own.

There’s a cutting sense of loss, a bone-deep sadness—I want him by my side. There’s also fear and worry. He’s heading to the border, rife with danger, where anything could happen. I want him safe.

But beneath the uncertainty and longing and anxiety, there’s a whisper of freedom.

I’m alone.