“Research?”
“He spent months documenting the effects of contagious illnesses in the capital. Convinced my father that it was in the best interest of wielders to allow the treatment of nonwielders.” My husband glances at me sideways, squeezing my hand.
There’s a bitter taste in my mouth after that.
We spend the rest of the day exploring the palace and its grounds.
Just before sunset, Zev brings me to the gardens.
His hand is warm in mine as we stroll between tall hedges and manicured shrubs, bursts of color blooming along the stone path. The waning sunlight casts long shadows across our feet. We pass beneath a canopy of leafy trees, slipping into a quiet, secluded area.
My breath catches.
A large blanket is spread over the green grass, its checkered pattern dappled by the golden glow of lanterns strung from nearby branches. A gentle hum—crickets, Zev tells me—fills the twilight air, and a light breeze carries a pleasant floral scent. At the center of the blanket rests a large bouquet—flowering blooms in yellows and pinks and blues. A wicker basket rests beside it, the lid slightly ajar.
Zev watches me with quiet intensity. His expression feels like a question. I offer a soft smile, and something in his shoulders loosens.
I lower myself onto the blanket, folding my legs beneath me. The fabric is warm from the lingering sunlight. Zev sits beside me without a word, his knee brushing mine. From the basket, he pulls out a delicious spread—slices of roasted meat wrapped in flatbread, small containers of stewed vegetables, and a wedge of cheese drizzled with honey.
We eat together in a silence that feels neither awkward nor strained. Just peaceful. Comfortable. Shared. His closeness, the solitude, the soft flicker of lantern light—it all settles around me like a warm blanket thrown over my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I say quietly. He knows I mean for the day together.
His smile is warm before it turns apologetic. I know I’m not going to like the words he utters next. “I won’t have as much time these next few days. There are movements with the Rebellion. And the hopeful alliance with Volca. I’ll be caught up in meetings.”
“Can I come with you?”
Another remorseful twisting of his mouth. I purse my lips.
“Faramir and my father will be there,” he says. “It’s best you avoid them.”
I frown, playing with a loose thread on the blanket. “What am I supposed to do, then?”
“Read the books from the library? Help plan the Equinox Festival?”
My frown morphs into a glare. I don’t like this. It feels too much like being a prisoner.
“I know it’s not ideal,” he says quickly, resting his palm over my knee. “Just give me some time.”
“So that’s it? I just wait in a pretty room until the next dance or dress fitting?”
“No,” he says firmly, squeezing my knee. “You live. And you stay safe.”
I huff, fingers fisting in the blanket. “Can I explore the palace?”
“Not without me.”
The irritation simmering inside my chest boils over.
I jump to my feet, fully intent on storming away, but he was expecting it—Zev grabs my ankle, yanking me back. I tumble down, crashing into him, the breath knocked from my lungs.
He’s ready for me, though—he catches me easily, cradling me in his arms. His eyes are bright, like he’s having the time of his life.
It pisses me off even more.
I writhe, trying to escape his grasp, but he’s too strong. He just holds me tighter until I wear myself out.
When I hang limply in his arms, he asks, “Done?” with a half-smile.
