His lips twist with barely repressed rage. “Calm down. You’re drawing attention,” he hisses.
He’s right. Faces slowly peer through darkened tents, wide eyes watching us. Some of the warriors emerge, disheveled and groggy.
But I don’t care. For the first time in my life,I don’t carewhat my father has to say. My mind reels, struggling to process what I saw with my own eyes. Father has a second ability, like me.
He’s a tidesdamned stormwielder. Buthow?
Realization dawns on me, cold and swift.
“Turmah,” I whisper, eyes wide. “She was already with child when she returned.”
His mother’s name ignites Father’s fury.
“You knownothingof what you speak!” he shouts, his eyes wild. Just as quickly, he seems to remember an audience has gathered. His posture morphs, assuming the disguise of respected king once more. Everything about him is a lie.
Father’s gaze sweeps the camp. “Return to your tents,” he says evenly, waving his hand in dismissal. “Recent events have made my daughter … sensitive. Perhaps it was wrong of me to send her to Arbinj. She is upset. The Commander has harmed her.”
“He has not!” I shout. “Youhave!”
All eyes are on me, but I don’t care. I don’tfuckingcare.
Vicious power swirls inside me, fueled by my rage.
“Admit it,” I pant, shoulders heaving. “Say the words.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Liar. He’s a tidescursed liar.
He’s been lying to me my entire life.
“Mama. Who killed her?”
He crosses his arms over his chest, sidestepping me.
He’s walking away. He’s fucking walking away.
“It was you,” I seethe, whirling to look at him. Zev’s eyes burn into my back.
“Sleep, Mayah,” Father calls over his shoulder. “You’ve embarrassed me enough for one night.”
A tremor starts in my spine, crawling up my throat until it tastes like blood. He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t even flinch. That silence—that fucking silence—splinters something inside me.
I grit my teeth, slamming my boot into the ground. A wall of water, siphoned from the damp earth, rises in front of Father and freezes into a thick sheet of ice.
The entire camp falls silent for a heartbeat. Then, whispered murmurs erupt at once.
“…was that…”
“…a second ability…”
“…did you know…”
I ignore them all. My focus is reserved for my father. He slowly pivots and faces me, his silhouette stark against the sheet of ice still glistening behind him.
“Yes,Mayah,”he spits, rage blazing in his cold eyes. “It was me. I made a mistake marrying Meerah. A filthy common.” He spits on the ground. “I loved her. Treated her well. And still she asked for more.” A scoff. “Alwaysmore. Just. Like.You. ‘Better treatment for nonwielders,’” he mocks, waving his hand through the air. His spine is rigid, knuckles white around his staff. “Still, I could have lived with it. But she couldn’t, as it turns out. She ran.”
My breath escapes in harsh pants. I remember the night she died—the sky raged as if it wept for her.
