But if it’s endeared me to the citizens, I suppose there’s no harm in that.
“I—”
He shifts closer. His heated gaze settles on my lips, but my body doesn’t respond like before. It remembers what itusedto want. But now … it hesitates.
And then Daak slants his mouth over mine in a kiss I’m too slow to avoid. I freeze as his hands grasp the back of my head, pulling me closer.
It feelswrong. Tides, everything about it is wrong—his taste, his scent, his body. Daak slowly draws back, brows furrowed. He drags his thumb over my lips.
“What is it?”
I inch away from him. “I’m … nervous. Don’t want to get caught.”
His lips quirk into a half-smile. “You used to crave the danger of sneaking around. Or was that only when it was my neck on the line?” His hand caresses my back—it’s meant to be soothing, but it just makes me more tense.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
“That was at home, not in the bowels of the enemy’s palace.” I rise to my feet, my skin still crawling beneath the ghost of his touch. “I’ll return tomorrow.”
Without another word, I leave Daak sitting on the floor.
Over the next two days, I keep my routine exactly the same—mornings with Farzina planning the Equinox Festival and the deaths of the Arbinji ruling class—and afternoons in the infirmary.
But my evenings are spent with Daak.
Plotting.
Reminiscing.
Betraying.
It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal. IknowVarad orchestrated my mother’s murder. Robbed me of her light, her warmth. Left me plagued with this embarrassing, debilitating fear of storms.
I’ve waited years for this moment. But now that it’s here, it tastes like ash in my mouth.
I shake the thoughts away and ground myself in the present—the cool stone beneath me, the faint trickle of water through the narrow tunnels … and the large hand resting on my lower back.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Daak sits beside me on the cavern floor, a map unfurled before us. He smooths the worn paper with one large hand, a flickering torch casting strange shadows across our plans.
“The Dark Commander just lets you take anything you want from the library?” Daak asks, a disdainful look on his face. “He’s a fool to think you’d ever accept a life here. With him.” He studies my face carefully.
Again, I’m overcome with the urge to defend Zev, but I shove the retort down my throat. A slow-burning anger crackles in my belly, one I can’t completely explain. Or admit. It’s been simmering since that first night when Daak implied my husband might’ve forced himself on me.
Instead, I gesture to the map, marking various backup entrances and exits in case things don’t go as planned at the festival.
Daak nods. “All right. I’ll let the others know. We’ll be ready.”
I move to stand, but he grabs my wrist. “Stay with me a bit longer, Mayah. I’ve missed you.” His voice is soft. The voice that whispered reassurances in my ear through countless thunderstorms. The voice that brought me back from the edgeagain and again after Sura and Tumaas’s deaths. He raises his arm, and ever so slowly, I lower myself back beside him.
“The palace is a hollow shell without you,” he murmurs, his nose grazing the shell of my ear. “No one to lecture me, drive me insane. No one to kick my ass.”
“I could never kick your ass.” A soft chuckle bursts free, surprising both of us.
“No,” he admits, his eyes brighter than they had been when he pulled me back down. “But it was fun to watch you try.”
Tides, Ihavemissed him. I missed this easy back and forth. He’s the only person who knows all of me—the secret waterwielder, terrified of storms. Daughter to a dead mother and disdainful father. He’s been my best friend for years. My only comfort after Sura and Tumaas died.
