“By who?” I snort. “I didn’t know you could wield blood.”
“I’ve never tried. It’s entirely possible I can.”
I chuckle. “I can’t wait to read the first children’s tale about you: Daak the Daring. Wielder of water, blood, and nonsense. Perpetually bested by Princess Mayah of Tundrayn.”
We share a quiet laugh. It tastes bittersweet in my mouth.
Daak has a way of making me feelseen. Accepted. Of making me forget. He’s been the only warmth in my life after Sura and Tumaas were sent to battle and never returned.
I snare his deep blue gaze with my own. He understands what I need because, ever so slowly, his full lips slant over mine.
He’s familiar. Comfortable.
But his kiss is soft. Too soft. And I don’t want gentle from him.
Not tonight.
I want to feelsomething—anything other than this yawning grief in my chest threatening to swallow me whole.
I straddle his lap, my hands skimming the shaved sides of his head before tangling in his braids. My lips crash against his with a desperation that numbs every gaping wound in my heart. His grip is tight around my hips, our mouths moving together in a passionate rhythm. I roll my hips against his, and a strangled groan rumbles through his chest.
I press closer, eager for more, and predictably, he pulls away.
He always pulls away.
“Mayah…” he whispers, voice laced with apology. “Your father will have me impaled.”
“He’d have you impaled just for kissing me,” I point out, scowling. “And I’d heal you.” But I know there’s no convincing him. I’ve been trying for years. So I crawl off his lap and plop down on the sofa, resting my head on his strong shoulder.
Daak looses a deep sigh. “Tundrayn’s future depends on you. You’ll be subjected to the purity test.”
Right. The purity test. An arcane practice observed by both Arbinj and Tundrayn to ensure princesses remain untouched before marriage.
And Father has just arranged my marriage to Faramir, the crown prince of Arbinj.
Chapter Two
Myheartbattersmyribcage as I race through the frigid halls of the palace. It’s not the first time I’ve been immersed in the Healing Chambers and was late for a council meeting. Hiking up my thick gown, I dart through the halls. Skidding around a corner, the heel of my boot carves an arc into the packed snow floor. Oops. A palace waterwielder will need to smooth that over.
A loud thud, and the door swings open. Light streams in through large windows, illuminating each weathered face as it swivels toward me. At the head of the long table sits Father, his lips pressed into a line so thin it disappears into his white beard.
“Daughter,” he drawls, eyes flashing with disapproval. “Wonderful of you to join us.” Father waves his hand, and a whip of water shoots out from the carved fountain, pulling back the chair directly to his right. A snarling wolf’s head is carved into this particular fountain—I’ve always thought its cold, icy eyes resembled Father’s.
Daak stands behind Father’s chair, back straight and dressed in his white captain’s armor. His face remains stoic, but his eyes twinkle with mirth as I hurry to my chair.
I’m barely seated when Father resumes speaking.
“As I was saying”—he cuts me a sharp glare—“along with the ceasefire, Arbinj will send food stores—meats, grains, and vegetables—as part of the alliance.”
I stare at my lap. Tundrayn will sendme.
“Is there anything else we’ve learned about Crown Prince Faramir?” one of Father’s advisers asks, a wiry man in faded blue furs. “I … worry for Princess Mayah.”
At least someone does.
No,no. I can’t think like that. I’ve known my duty since I was a young girl. This is what I want—a better world, asaferworld for my people. But still … I wish Father cared more aboutmysafety. About what it means to send me into the arms of his enemy.
“Nothing new,” Father replies. “We only know that he’s a powerful earthwielder. Varad keeps him removed from the spotlight.”
