Tundraynis.
Hatred twists their expressions as they launch ice spears at us. I barely manage to raise a wall of ice in time. Quickly, I melt the ice around our legs, dropping into a defensive stance.
“I don’t want to hurt you!” I shout, hands raised in surrender.
Another ice spear hurtles toward me, barely deflected in time.
“Traitor!” one of the waterwielders shouts back, launching another spear. “Arbinji whore!” shouts another.
The sky booms.
Zev raises a hand.
Lightning kills them both.
I flinch. My eyes find the third warrior. Her eyes are deep blue like Sura’s.
My hand hesitates. Just for a breath. But it’s enough time for guilt to wedge itself deep.
I kill her anyway.
Tundrayn is here, too.
And it’s not to rescue me.
Not too far from where we killed the waterwielders, the rebels have organized a makeshift command center, guarded by wielders and armed nonwielders—it’s where we find Tairna, standing before the assembled crowd. She appears relatively unharmed. Some of the tension melts from Zev’s shoulders.
Tairna’s voice is steady as she gives orders. One team is assigned to dig out survivors from leveled buildings and evacuate those in the ones still standing. Another team to man the east side of the camp, and a third defending the west side.
“One more team to patrol the perimeter,” Zev calls. Heads swivel in our direction. “I’ll lead.”
Tairna freezes, eyes wide. Then, she’s shouldering her way through the crowd, dark tunic fluttering. She knocks into Zev with the force of a maelstrom, twining her arms around him. For several heartbeats, she doesn’t move.
Then, she turns to me. I don’t know what I expect—a nod, maybe, or one of her warm smiles. But her arms wrap around me like I belong to her, too. My body is stiff for only a second before I melt into her embrace.
She cradles my face, eyes glistening with tears, before tugging Zev into the hug along with her. The sight of her tears,for me, elicits an unfamiliar warmth. One minute is all she allows us, one minute wrapped in each other’s arms. For that brief moment, I pretend this is real.
That we’re a family.
Then she lets go—draws back and steels herself, a commander in her own right.
“Send a missive to the Volcans and the other rebel camps. Tell them to send as many men as they can spare,” Zev says.
“I already did. I don’t know how long it will take, though. We need to hold them off until then.”
“We will.” Zev is sure. Solid. “I’ll round up the men for the perimeter.” He walks away. I follow him.
“Mayah”—Tairna grabs my hand—“we can’t risk anything happening to you. When the dust settles,youneed to lead.”
I glance down at her hand, laced with mine. I squeeze it gently.
“I go with Zev.”
Tairna looks distressed. She turns to her son with anguished eyes. “Zev. Shecannotgo with you.”
Zev doesn’t answer immediately. Just studies my face. Then, he takes my hand from hers and laces his long fingers through mine. “There’s no stopping her, Mother. I’ll protect her. Or I’ll die.”
A shuddering sob wrenches from Tairna’s chest when Zev calls her mother. She embraces us once more. Then, without another word, she returns to the front of the room.
