When I can’t bear to wait any longer, I slowly sit up in the tub.
I raise my hand—
—and the water responds.
It rises out of the tub in thin streams, merging and diverging above my head in swirling patterns. Another swish of my hand, and the water melds together before flattening into a thin sheet. With a pinch of my fingers, the droplets separate again and freeze into sharp, serrated icicles.
A slow grin stretches across my lips.
Tides, I’ve missed waterwielding.
Chapter Forty-Three
Possessingtwowieldingcapabilitiesis rare. Which is why when my waterwielding emerged as a teenager, Father kept it a closely guarded secret—not a soul alive knows save me, Father, and Daak. I had already been training as a healer for a few years by then, so when Father assigned Daak as my “combat” instructor, no one at the palace suspected anything else.
That Father was honing a weapon.
Healing has always come easier to me than waterwielding, but under Daak’s guidance, I’ve grown into a formidable wielder.
It was difficult keeping my ability hidden these past few months. It felt unnatural ignoring the water’s familiar call. The last time I wielded was in the Tundrayni forest, when I split that tree down the middle. It was an unbelievably stupid risk, but I couldn’t stand to let the Dark Commander manhandle me without suffering any consequences.
The Dark Commander. My lips turn down in a scowl. The frightening moniker doesn’t suit Zev at all.
Zev, with so much tenderness in his eyes.
Zev, who also lost his mother and friend.
Zev, who has shown me more kindness than I ever expected.
I swallow down the lump in my throat and blink away my traitorous tears.
Zev is miles away, and now I can finally find those tidescursed tunnels. He hadn’t been receptive to me sleeping in another bedroom, and with my every move under careful scrutiny, it’s been impossible to explore.
So far, the only hidden entrance I’ve found is in Zev’s—our—chambers. There are likely entrances in every set of royal quarters to make it easy to flee if the palace were ever under attack.
The tunnels may have served Arbinj well in the past.
But they won’t now.
After my shift in the infirmary, I return to our chambers. It’s just past sunset when I change into comfortable leggings and a tunic. Standing before the wall, I run my hands over the raised ledge I had discovered within days of marrying Zev—I knew what I was looking for, though.
A hard push, all my weight thrown behind it.
A soft click.
A portion of the wall sinks in, leaving just enough space for me to wedge through. I shift the hidden door back into place, though I doubt anyone will enter our chambers.
Zev will never forgive me.
I bat away the intrusive thought and press forward.
I came here with a mission.
I mean to fulfill it.
Behind the wall is a narrow, dark tunnel. I find a torch beside my feet and quickly light it. The air is thick with mildew and something older. The walls are crumbling stone. For a brief second, the image of them collapsing in a heap on me enters my mind.
That won’t happen. The tunnels have stood for centuries.
