“I thought I heard someone stamping through here.” Pushing off the doorframe, she links her arm through mine, ignoring Zev completely. “There’s a dance tonight. We have one every other week or so. Youmustcome. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
I cut my eyes toward Zev—I don't want to leave him, not after the explosive conversation with his mother. But he won't meet my gaze. He probably doesn't evenwantany comfort I might offer. When Sura tugs me toward her room, I let her. I turn back to find Zev staring at our linked arms, eyes shadowed.
“I’ll—I’ll see you later?” My voice rises at the end. I still don’t know where we stand. He gives a barely perceptible nod and stalks into our room.
The door slams shut.
Sura’s room is small but tidy—her side at least. There’s a clear demarcation where Tumaas’s chaos begins.
For a moment, my best friend just looks at me. “Oh, Mayah,” she murmurs, and then I’m wrapped in her embrace. I’m not sure who starts crying first, but within minutes, we’re a sobbing heap of shaking limbs on the floor.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cries into my shoulder.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” My voice is hoarse. “Iam sorry. I didn’t do enough for nonwielders. You couldn’t come home. He-he never let itbeyour home. I’m happy you found your place. Truly.”
We draw back, wiping away each other’s tears. “You did what you could,” she whispers, her lopsided smile wavering. “And we’re together now.”
With a loud sniffle, she rises, bringing me along with her. I settle onto her neatly made bed—Tumaas’s thin mattress is covered with wrinkled clothing and a stained leather apron. She rummages through her closet, selecting a few dresses and handing them to me.
I try the dresses on, waiting for her to ask me about Zev, but she never does. Truthfully, I’m relieved. What would I even say? I’m married to the man who tried to kill you? I’m torn about my feelings for him? He hates me most of the time?
The words knot in my throat. So I say nothing at all.
The makeshift dance hall is one of the smaller structures in the Rebellion camp. The walls are uneven, clearly thrown together in haste—I suspect the earthwielder responsible might have been tipsy. Flickering lanterns cast a warm glow across the space. The floor is scuffed and stained, but it’s been cleared to make room for dancing—just enough space for a dozen people to move freely without bumping elbows.
Sura links her arm through mine, smoothing the blue fabric of my borrowed dress, and tugs me through the crowd. The room hums with life—men and women spinning, swaying, laughing. Boots thump against the wooden floor, arms thrown around waists and shoulders as they twirl.
But as I trudge deeper, a hush ripples through the room like a sudden, silencing breeze. Conversations falter, movements slow. Even the ragtag group of musicians in the corner stops playing when they see me.
Sura coughs loudly, hand on her hip. That’s all it takes for the room to find its rhythm again. She drags me through the crowd and introduces me to her friends—the new life she’s created.
“This is Mona.” Sura slings her arm around the shoulders of a petite girl with chin-length blond hair. “She works with me in the childcare area. You should see her with the munchkins. She blends right in.” Mona elbows Sura in the ribs, rolling her eyes.
Sura introduces me to a few more people, though I’m embarrassed to admit I forget their names almost immediately. One of the men works in the kitchens, another in the armory.I smile brightly, offering pleasantries, but my gaze keeps returning to the door.
I don’t recognize anyone who walks through. Disappointment wells in my chest, but I keep my smile frozen on my face.
Back turned to the door, I’m nursing a mug of ale as I listen to one of the women prattle on about how handsome Tumaas is.
“Bleurgh.” Sura pretends to vomit. “I don’t know what you lot see in him. Besides, he’s spoken for. Right, Mayah-bear?”
I don’t respond. There’s a sudden shift in the air. It vibrates through me until every molecule in my body thrums. My fingers tighten around my glass.
If conversations faltered when I entered, the room goes deathly still now. With stark clarity, I realize why Tairna wantsmeto lead. The people fear Zev—despise him, even.
Zev.
His gaze burns into my back. Slowly, I pivot and face my husband. He hasn’t changed out of his clothes, still wearing the same dark shirt and trousers we’d arrived in.
His stormy gaze rakes over me, lingering on the dark, loose curls around my shoulders, my rouge-tinted lips, the bare skin above the sweetheart neckline of my borrowed blue dress.
When his eyes meet mine again, they’re as dark as night, their heat searing into me from clear across the room. A ripple of anticipation skitters down my spine, and for a brief, foolish second, I think he’ll approach me.
Nothing prepares me for the jarring plummet in my stomach when he strides to the bar instead, flagging down the barkeep.
A glass shatters somewhere behind me, followed by a loud whoop, and the room resumes its joy.
“Mayah?” Sura nudges my shoulder.
