My father has said nothing since I burst into the chambers. He looks older today, as though he’s aged years overnight. His eyes are dull, lacking their usual cold fire.
He doesn’t say a word, not even when Faramir shoves back from the table, eyes glazed with malice. The advisers stare at their laps or at each other, faces grim.
A venomous laugh slithers from between Faramir’s lips. “I’mnotgoing with you, Zevayr.” I flinch. So rarely does he use my name. “I will stay here. I’ll gladly hide behind my little brother’s sword. Tell me, how can Mayah stand your touch with all the blood on your hands? Tundrayni blood. Do you force her? Maybe she—”
The sky rumbles.
“Faramir,” my father warns sharply.
“—likes a rough hand. That’s good to know. Because while you’re gone, Zevayr, I’m going to fuck your wife until she breaks in ha—”
There is no warning.
Just a brutalcrack.
Shards of glass rain down as the window behind Faramir shatters. He whirls, ducking against the jagged onslaught.
My chest heaves. Violence crackles in my veins, igniting a raging fire inside me.
His energy signature thrums erratically. He’s terrified.
Good.
Another loudcrack. A second bolt of lightning pierces the sky and shatters the next window. And the next.
The advisers find their senses and duck beneath the table. Only my father doesn’t move. Just watches, resigned.
I shatter another window for good measure.
“Youwillcome with me to the border. You’ll stay out of sight and out of my way. You will do as I fucking command or else I will takemy wifeand leave this skiesdamned realm. Tundrayn can flood the palace and drown you for all I care. The Rebellion can set you on fire, and I. Would.Laugh.” My hands clench and unclench at my sides. Faramir rises slowly, crazed eyes manic. A thin line of blood mars his cheekbone.
“Howdare—”
“Listen to your brother.” My father’s tired voice cuts through the room like an old blade, weary but still sharp. “It will be good for morale for the soldiers to see you. And I’ll send some of my personal guard.”
Surprise flickers in my chest, quickly tamped down. “It’s decided, then. I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”
The bed is unsurprisingly empty when I return. Mayah’s in the washroom—her energy signature pulses faintly through the wall. I’d gone to the armory after the council chambers, rage simmering as I strapped on armor and sheathed my weapons. I take several deep breaths, hoping to quell the fury that still clings to my skin before I see my wife.
My heart stutters as my boots cross the threshold of the washroom. Dark hair piled atop her head in a messy bun, lips still swollen from my kisses, and a rosy flush painting her cheeks that I know has nothing to do with the steaming water.
She’s in the bath instead of our bed. My lips twist in displeasure, though logically, I know I was gone for nearly an hour.
Frothy suds lap at her shoulders, concealing her from my view. My wife grins at me, the cruel, beautiful woman. Then her gaze drops to my armor, and her brows knit together.
I cross the room and kneel behind her on the tile. “My wife was not where I left her,” I murmur. A loose tendril of hair has escaped her bun, and I brush it to the side before pressing a kiss against her fluttering pulse.
“Your wife grew impatient.” A beat. “Where are you going?”
I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I skim my nose along the column of her neck, inhaling her tantalizing winter rose scent. It’ll be far too long before I’ll be this close to her again. My arm snakes across her chest, water soaking my sleeve.
“The border. We suspect the Rebellion will launch another attack.”
“When do you leave?” A quiet whisper.
“An hour ago.” Faramir is likely throwing a tantrum in the courtyard as we speak.
Her breath stutters. “Zev—”
