Between Tides Thunder(72)

One more. One more, and then I’ll go. Tomorrow, I’ll try a different tunnel. I’ve said this to myself at least six times now, but I mean it this time.

One last ripple sent barreling down.

Minutes pass.

Nothing.

With a weary sigh, I rise, walking away. I’ve almost left the large chamber when I hear it. The rushing whoosh of a ripple.

The same sound I’ve heard repeatedly for the past hour.

Except this time, it’s coming toward me.

My feet slap against the stone floor as I rush back to the mouth of the tunnel in time to see a small wave crest and ebb away.

My legs almost give out.

It came back. It came back.

I stand there for minutes, waiting.

I wait for it to be a trick of echo or my imagination, but then the unmistakable drumbeat of boots splashing reaches my ears—and all the breath leaves my lungs.

A dark silhouette appears in the tunnel, broad shoulders and long, swinging braids. He catches sight of me and runs even faster, the distance vanishing between us like smoke in the air.

The man’s face is shadowed, but his gaze glimmers in the dark.

And I’d know those blue eyes anywhere.





CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR




DAAK BARRELS INTO ME, muscular arms enveloping my torso. He lifts me clear off the ground, twirling me in the air, face buried in my neck. His familiar scent surrounds me—fresh snow and spruce and home.

“Tides, Mayah.” He whispers it against my clavicle like a prayer before setting me down. His depthless blue eyes are fearful as he examines my face, tilting it toward the flickering torchlight, running his hands over my hair, across my shoulders. “I’ve been losing my mind every day, pacing from tunnel to tunnel on the outside, unsure which one would be my salvation. The one that tells me you’re okay. Tides, you’re okay. Tides forgive me, I’ve been drowning without you. Are you all right? Have they hurt you? Have they—”

“I’m fine, Daak,” I murmur, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem convinced. The crease between his brows deepens.

He swallows hard, throat bobbing. “They made you marry him—the Dark Commander.” I flinch at the moniker, and Daak misinterprets it as fear. His eyes brim with remorse, with guilt. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. Fuck, Mayah, I nearly flooded the palace when I found out.” His hands grip my shoulders tighter. “Are you—has he hurt you?”

I bristle at the implication. “No. He hasn’t. We haven’t actually—he’s been kind to me.” I don’t understand why I feel the need to defend Zev to Daak, but I do.

“Kind?” Daak repeats, brow raised. “That’s not a word I’d ever imagined you’d use to describe the Dark Commander. Are you sure you’re all right?” He leads me to the damp, stone wall, guiding me to sit before folding himself down beside me. “How much time do you have? Tell me everything.”

So I do.

I tell him about the Rebellion attack on our carriages and Zev’s initial suspicion. Our shaky truce and the journey across two kingdoms. I omit the part about the arrow wound and power sharing—he doesn’t need to know about that. Then, arriving at the palace and Varad’s duplicitous change of groom.

“And the Dark Commander just agreed to marry you?” Daak asks, glancing at me. His eyes keep scanning me, as if searching for hidden injuries.

“Obviously,” I snort, showing him my betrothal ring.

Daak scowls at the large teardrop diamond glinting on my finger, and for a moment, I fear he might ask me to remove it. Why does that thought burn like acid on my tongue?

“But he hasn’t … touched you?” he asks, voice laced with disbelief.

“No,” I lie smoothly.

Zev has touched me. But only when I begged him to.

Daak shakes his head. “Something must be wrong with his equipment,” he laughs. “To have you in his chambers every night and leave you untouched?” The timbre of his voice drops. “I know what I’d do.” His blue eyes darken, and he leans forward, gaze fixed on my mouth. I stiffen—not from desire, but from tidesdamned guilt.

“I—I can’t stay much longer. I’ll be noticed. We should nail down the plan.”

Disappointment flashes across his face, but he nods.

“You said you’re planning the Equinox Festival?”

“Yes. All the noble families will attend. I’ve ordered zinfadelan—it’ll mask the taste of the poison. You acquired the toxinnia?”

Daak nods. “We have barrels ready to go. No one suspects you? Not the Dark Commander? He’ll drink it, too?”

A sharp pang splinters my heart at the thought of Zev, cold and motionless on the ground, frothy white foam bubbling from his lips.

I swallow down bile. “No. I’ve fooled him.”

Why do I feel like the fool, then?

Daak tugs me closer against his side.

“You’ve done well, Mayah,” he murmurs, arm oppressively heavy over my shoulders. “We’ll bring Arbinj to its knees. With the nobles and royal family dead, you’ll be poised to rule. A safer realm for our people. Just like we planned.”

My lips tremble as I force a smile, but Daak doesn’t seem to notice.