No ogling.
No disrespect.
Mayah—fuck, thewaterwielder—should be safe. The thought doesn’t bring me any comfort as I head back.
A gaping pit of dread opens in the hollow of my chest, growing wider with each step until I fear I’ll plunge into it and never emerge.
I should feel relieved. Come tomorrow, she won’t be my problem anymore. I’ll never have to see her traitorous faceagain. Never have to hear another lie in her soft, melodious voice.
I can lie to myself, but my heart knows the truth.
It doesn’t matter. She’ll be gone tomorrow and—
The hair on the back of my neck rises.
Our camp is twenty feet away, hidden from view by dense tree trunks and drooping branches. I sense a grouping of energy signatures—five, maybe six people huddled together.
I walk faster, branches whipping my arms and face. The jumbled currents grow clearer as I draw closer. They’re still a tangle of bodies, but Mayah’s energy signature is clear in the center.
And it’s thrumming wildly, like nothing I’ve ever sensed before.
Not when I slid my brother’s ring onto her finger.
Not when I pinned her to the ground in the snow.
Not when her body trembled as a storm raged overhead.
Not when I murdered her lover before her eyes.
No—her energy signature throbs violently with terror, each charge thrumming with a desperation so hopeless, it chills my blood.
I bolt the rest of the way.
Chapter Forty-Five
Ihearnothingbuttheharshthud, thud, thudof my boots as I tear through the trees. In mere seconds, I reach the camp.
Vicious rage thunders in my ears like a war drum.
Mayah is on her knees, thick roots coiled around her ankles and wrists. Blood coats her tear-stained face, tracking dark paths down her nostrils and mouth. Gruesome bruises in the shape of a large hand line her pale throat.
The five soldiers form a circle around her, and Sulon—fucking Sulon—stands before her, pants bunched around his thighs, thick fingers prying her bloodied lips open.
He’s a fucking dead man. They all are.
The sky rumbles.
Sulon freezes, yanking his hand back and tugging up his pants.
But he’s too late. I’ve seen what he is.
What he was going to do.
“What thefuckare you doing to my wife?!” I hurtle toward them.
“I… sire, I—”
My hand flies into the air.
