Between Tides Thunder(76)

He takes me to the gardens next, where I was wedded to his son. Sunlight dapples the grass, and the cool breeze rustles the golden leaves. Varad takes a seat on a nearby stone bench.

I join him, my body as stiff as the cold stone beneath me.

The silence between us stretches for minutes, tense and heavy.

What does he want? So far, I’d been successful in avoiding him, but I hadn’t counted on Varad seeking me himself.

“Mayah,” he says slowly, as if testing my name on his lips. “Queen Mayah of Arbinj.”

Have the Tides ravaged his mind?

Varad sighs deeply. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks, his voice quiet. “I didn’t think you’d marry my son. It ruined my plans when you did.”

I bristle. Why is he telling me this?

“You wanted to keep me hostage. Or kill me.”

His lips twist. “A hostage, yes. I wouldn’t have killed you. I’d have lost my leverage.”

I scoff, violent anger roiling inside me. “What was your plan?”

“Force your father to help me fight the Rebellion. Take his land. Resources. Whatever he’d give me for his heir.” He rakes a hand through his hair, and the gesture reminds me so much of Zev that my heart stutters.

“My son is in love with you, Mayah,” Varad says matter-of-factly.

The air leaves my lungs.

I want to believe him.

I want it so badly, my bones ache for it.

“I didn’t plan for it. But it doesn’t make it any less true. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. And in his rage when anyone else looks at you.” He glances at me, finally. “I want my son to be happy.”

Why did you kill his mother, then?

“I am willing to set aside this decades-long war for him. If you care for Zevayr, which I suspect you do, then perhaps you can do the same. Imagine, a real union between our kingdoms? One based on trust? There’s nothing that could stop us.”

If he suspects the festival plan, this is a clever move. Offer mercy before I commit the sin. Entrap me into revealing myself.

He waits for a response, but I remain silent.

“Why did you call me Queen Mayah?” I ask instead, crossing my arms and bracing against the brisk wind. “Faramir will be king, not Zev.”

Varad rakes his incisors over his lower lip, and again, the gesture is so reminiscent of Zev that my heart misses a beat.

I hate him.

I hate this man who murdered my mother, yet bears so many similarities to my husband.

“Faramir is … unhinged, to put it mildly,” Varad says, brows knitting together. “It’s my fault. He didn’t receive the same maternal warmth that Zevayr did. My eldest is unnecessarily cruel. Malicious. He’s not the right king for Arbinj.”

Varad’s words turn my blood to ice.

“You want Zev to be king?” I whisper, eyes wide. He nods. “What about Faramir? He won’t just step aside.”

Varad scrubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “No. No, he won’t. If I can secure the alliance with Volca, he might be content to wed their princess and rule their island. If not…” He trails off, a grim look crossing his face.

My blood burns hot. “You’d ruin an innocent girl’s life by marrying her to him?”

Of course he would. He’d been perfectly happy for me to wed his deranged son. Until Zev ruined his plans.

Sharp green eyes cut to me, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I do what I must. You may think me a monster, Mayah, but I do love my sons. Both of them. And as I said—Zevayr loves you. Move on from past wrongs, and think about what you want. It could all be yours.”

I mull over his words. After a few minutes, he rises and returns to the palace.

I lose track of how long I sit there.

My son is in love with you.

I blink back tears. Unbidden, my gaze falls to my wedding ring, a mirror of my mother’s necklace.

With a shuddering gasp, I clutch the pendant tightly, the sharp point of the teardrop digging painfully into my skin. The storm that killed her is still inside me. Nothing can quiet the thunder in my chest.

He might be able to forget the past.

But I cannot.





CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN




ZEV HAS BEEN GONE for a week.

There was a storm last night, and I spent the entirety of it curled into a ball beneath the sheets, hands clamped over my ears, face damp with tears. I either fell asleep or fainted, I’m not sure which—either way, I woke the next morning wrapped in self-loathing.

“Would you like to look at the seating chart?” she asks, breaking me out of my reverie.

“Uh, no, that’s all right. I’m sure it’s perfect.” Her smile widens, until the dimple in her left cheek winks at me.

“Anything else?” Farzina asks. “I’ll retrieve your gown from the seamstress. I can’t believe the Festival is only a week away! Guests should begin arriving soon.”

I can’t match Farzina’s enthusiasm, not when guilt and confusion and indecision are tearing me apart.

“I can’t wait.” I smile at her like everything’s fine, like I haven’t spent the night sobbing into Zev’s pillow. Like I haven’t kissed one man while thinking about another. The lie tastes bitter, but I swallow it anyway.