“Where would you go?”
“Volca, first. Then beyond.”
“And what would you do?”
He glances sideways. “That’s an awful lot of questions, Mayah.”
“Let me check our packed schedule.” I hold up an invisible sheet, scanning it with exaggerated seriousness. “Let’s see … walking. More walking. Oh, then after lunch—still more walking.”
He exhales hard, tilting his face to the sky as though summoning patience, but I catch the faint twitch at the cornerof his mouth. “I’d help people if I could,” he finally says. “To … try and make up for all the damage I’ve caused. Or just exist. Peacefully. No war. No responsibilities.”
I trip on an overgrown root, and his hand finds the small of my back, steadying me.
“What about you?” he asks.
I bite my lip, then admit, “I’ve always dreamed of ruling. Of making Tundrayn better. Safer. Forallmy people.” His eyes catch mine. He knows what I mean—nonwielders and wielders alike.
“And I’d still heal of course.”
Zevayr lets out a quiet laugh.
“What?”
“I’m just picturing the Queen of Tundrayn in a healer’s apron.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “I’d make it work.”
“I have no doubt you would.”
That night, Zevayr portions twice as much snowshoe hare for me. I frown at his meager allotment. “I can’t eat this much. And you’re literally three times my size. You need it more.” I move to slide off some of the meat, but he stops me with a firm grip on my wrist. My breath catches, skin tingling beneath his touch.
“If you’re going to spend your nights healing us both, you need more food to replenish your reserves.”
I yank my hand back like he’s scorched me. Heat rushes to my cheeks.
“You were awake.” I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“I usually am. Men need less sleep than women.”
I gape at him. “Then why even pretend to let me take watch if you’re not going to sleep?”
He shrugs, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “Because I know you wouldn’t tolerate anything less than being treated as my equal.”
My lips purse into a thin line, even as dangerous delight swirls in my belly at how well he already knows me. He’s completely right—if he’d offered to take watch every night and let me sleep, I’d have refused, hackles raised and teeth bared.
Begrudgingly, I return only half the extra portion and bite into a thick strip of meat.
“Are you upset?” I ask quietly, glancing at him through my lashes. “I used my power on you without permission. I should’ve asked first.”
He tears his eyes away, teeth raking over his lower lip. “No,” he finally says. “You were doing me a kindness.”
“If Ihadasked,” I add quickly, “you would’ve said, ‘No, Mayah. You’re just a Tundrayni baby. I’m a big, strong man. Save your reserves. I don’t need the element of surprise to overpower you because I’m a big, scary man.’”
He laughs—deep and unguarded—his gray eyes crinkling at the corners. The pure masculine sound sends warmth blooming across my chest.
“You don’t need to heal me every night,” he says, voice low, still amused. “I’m used to sore muscles. And youarea delicate baby.”
I glare at him, chomping into the next bite with more force than needed. “I’m not a baby.”
