Mayah nestles deeper into my chest, her iron cuffs glinting in the sunlight. I swallow past the tightness in my throat.
And what about her?
She’s not my concern. She’snot. She made her choices. Her father may have deceived her, but she still chose the captain. Not me. It’s not my concern she has no home. No father. Likely no one who will take her in. Not my concern she has no one who cares for her—not after I killed the man she loved.
But looking down at her slight form, something tight still cinches around my chest.
Mayah lets out a soft moan, shifting in the saddle. The electric currents around her pulse wildly—she’s awake. And has realized her hands are bound.
Mayah pivots in the saddle and fixes me with a fierce glare.
“Oh, good,” I drawl. “You’re awake.”
“You hit me,” she snarls. “Hard.”
“I did.” Guilt rises again in my chest, but I ignore it and smirk at her. She has her masks. I have mine. “Want me to kiss the pain away?”
She swallows hard, her eyes flickering briefly before they hollow out. “W-were all the men … dead?”
I’m not the only one struggling with guilt, it seems.
“Yes.”
A broken laugh escapes her, drenched with loathing. I recognize that self-hatred in her eyes. It grates at me that she’s racked with guilt for killing Tundraynis but was planning a massacre in Arbinj.
Under my nose.In my skiesdamned bed.
“It was you or them,” I snap. The horse whinnies as I inadvertently tug too roughly on the reins. “And since when has killing bothered you? You were plotting to murder hundreds in Arbinj.”
Her mouth opens and closes before she finally huffs, “Where are we going?” and turns back in the saddle. Her arms tremble, and she tries to cross them before remembering her wrists are bound.
I don’t respond. The less I tell her, the better.
“Were we followed?”
“No.” The word is forced through gritted teeth. I don’t remind her that was no one lefttofollow us.
“Where are we?”
I don’t bother answering. When she shifts and her elbow jabs into my still-broken ribs, I know it isn’t an accident.
“In Rebellion territory.” My teeth snap together.
“I’m hungry.”
“You’ll have to wait until we stop.”
“Tell me where we’re going.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to remember the last time we traveled alone together through the woods.
“Did the Tides take your tongue, or have you taken a vow of silence?” she snaps.
I tighten my arm banded around her waist, pulling her back harder against my chest. Her breath catches, and her energy signature pulses, reaching out as though searching for me.
It’s thrummed like this before when she was in my arms.
I swallow a scoff. Maybe she can manipulate that, too.
