Rhayl’s face reddens, and I resist the urge to shove my dagger through his stomach. He weighs his words, shifting on his feet. “N-no, sire. Not at all.”
Sharp needles dig into my neck.
“Get out of my sight,” I growl. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
An exasperated sigh tears free. Despite his barbed nature, Sulon has always been truthful with me. I wave the burly man over.
“I’ll be gone for a while,” I tell him. “Can I trust you to keep my wife safe?”
“Of course, sire. I won’t let any of the men near her.”
No prickles.
“Andyouwon’t go anywhere near her either.”
He nods quickly.
“Say it,” I grit out.
“I won’t go anywhere near her.”
Truth.
Satisfied, I nod and head into the forest—
—toward the Tundrayni camp.
Chapter Forty-Four
Inthatmomentwhenmy life shattered around me, when my wife lay unconscious beside her lover’s corpse, when I was faced with the truth of her intentions—I had made a decision.
Except it wasn’t as much a decision as it was a realization. That as much as I hated her, as heartbroken, gutted,betrayedas I felt—
I’d never stop loving her.
No, she played her part too well. She burrowed into my heart and wove her lies into my very soul.
I couldn’t sentence her to a lifetime of pain and torture by handing her over to my father and brother.
There was only one foreseeable path—return her to her people.
Which is how I find myself now trudging through the forest, heading toward the Tundrayni camp that we’d allowed within our borders. My jaw clenches—these men were likely waiting for a signal from their princess, perfectly positioned to launch an attack on the palace.
Mud squelches beneath my boots, and I slow my steps. I’m making far too much noise. I just need to scope out the camp, gauge how many men are stationed here, and ensure it’s—my teeth might crack—safe for her. Then I’ll return tomorrow and deliver their princess to them.
After that, I’ll get Sky-shakingly drunk. Fling myself from the terrace, perhaps.
Wind whispers through the branches, carrying the sound of male voices and clanging metal—the camp must be nearby. Hidden within the shadows, I creep closer until I can make out the outskirts of the camp.
It’s smaller than I expected.
Warriors are scattered in the center, attending to various tasks. They’ve shed their blue-and-white furs for green-and-brown linen and leather vests. Three blue-eyed men warily approach a handful of braying horses tied to a cluster of trees.
A woman emerges from one of the tents, a stack of folded cloths cradled to her chest. A whisper of relief skates down my spine—the waterwielder won’t be the only woman here.
Her betrothal ring and necklace burn in my pocket. I still haven’t decided if I’ll return her mother’s necklace.
I watch the warriors mill about the camp for nearly an hour. They treat the woman with respect, offering polite nods and restrained smiles.
