“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, arealunion 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 tohim?”
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 Idolove my sons. Both of them. And as I said—Zevayr lovesyou.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
