Zev’s grip tightens around me, a ripple coursing through him.
“You’re lying,” I hiss. “The warriors are trying to kill me.”
“Hmm,” he muses, as if we’re discussing dinner. “Perhaps they can’t forgive what you did at the camp.” Father raises a hand skyward. Thunder rumbles. “Perhaps … I can’t either.”
Tides freeze the blood in his veins.
“I don’t want your forgiveness,” I spit, taking a wobbling step forward, gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulder and thigh. “You should be begging for mine.”
“For what exactly?” he asks, his voice cold as ice.
Zev steps in front of me, but I push against his back.
“No.” Hot, angry tears blur my vision. “I do this alone.”
Zev’s jaw clenches tight, but he reluctantly moves aside.
I open my mouth—
—and Father attacks.
A thick stream of water tunnels through the air toward my chest.
But I’m ready.
A wave of my hand. It splashes to the ground.
"Tell me, my ungrateful daughter,” Father bites out. “What are your grievances?”
“You murdered my mother!” I shoot an ice spear at his head, steeling myself against the burn in my thigh. He avoids it easily. Blood seeps down my leg. “You lied about it for years! Manipulated me into becoming your weapon!” Water flows over his legs and freezes. A serrated shard barrels toward his neck.
All melted away.
“You tortured me with countless fucking storms, left me alone to suffer through them!”
Cold rage crashes against my ribs, even as my leg threatens to buckle. An ice spear cuts a sharp line across Father’s cheek, sending satisfaction blooming in my chest. But my attacks are coming slower, consuming more energy. I don’t have much left in me.
“You’re weak,” Father snarls. “You’ve always been weak. A tidescursed disappointment. Always wanting more. Embarrassing me in council meetings with your pathetic pleas for commons. So much like your mother. I gave youeverything.” I barely avoid the ice spear careening toward my head.
“You gave meNOTHING!” I scream, the words tearing from my raw throat.
Off to the side, Zev stands ready—every line of him coiled, sword drawn—but he doesn’t move. Thunder roars in the sky, but I don’t know if it’s my husband or my father.
“I gave you Daak,” Father says, his voice a lethal purr.
The air rushes from my lungs.
“You think I wasn’t aware of what was happening in my own palace?” he continues. “I only allowed it because Daak swore to keep your virtue intact.”
Bile scorches the back of my throat.
“You’re lying,” I hiss. Fatigue weights my limbs. It’s a struggle to remain upright.
He shrugs. “Believe what you will. I’ve grown bored, Daughter. The warriors advised me not to come. That it was too dangerous—but I wanted to see for myself. See my sniveling traitor of an heir one last time. Goodbye, Mayah.”
Lightning cracks through the air.
Another blinding bolt. Then another. They flash violently through the night, one after the other.
