We ride in tense silence for two hours before we come across a suitable clearing, far enough away from the graveyard that is the Tundrayni camp. I dismount, then hoist an indignant Mayah off the mare, even as my ribs protest. My vision swims, and it’s all I can do to keep my gait steady as I grab the stolen satchel and sit cross-legged on the grass, retrieving a few strips of dried meat and a loaf of stale bread.
Mayah holds up her bound wrists.
The last time I’d restrained her, Sulon had nearly…
I say nothing as I slice through the rope with a dagger.
I don’t remove the iron cuffs.
Wordlessly, I hand her the dried meat, ignoring the tingle in my fingers where my skin brushes hers. We eat in stilted silence. The meat is chewy and tasteless—I’m not even certain what animal I’m eating. But it serves its purpose well enough as my power thrums inside me, my reserves replenishing quickly with each bite.
My gaze snags on Mayah more often than I care to admit. Her eyes are unfocused, fixed on a patch of grass as she chews slowly. Shimmering tears limn her eyes before she blinks them away, only for them to return moments later.
I’m overcome by the fierce urge to comfort her, followed by a fiercer wave of self-loathing.
I’m a useless. Fucking. Idiot. Still enamored with the cunning waterwielder after she’s shown me her true colors again and again.
Still, nothing I tell myself soothes the ache in my heart. Not when hopelessness and regret twist her pale face. She swallows thickly, cutting her blue eyes to me. I avert my gaze, schooling my expression into boredom.
Despite everything, I find myself saying, “If you keep blaming yourself, you’ll never move forward.” I don’t look at her. “You helped me kill them. To save yourself. Make your peace with it.”
“Where do we go from here?” she whispers, her voice thick with tears.
Skies, the ache in my heart is worse than the torture I endured.
It wasn’t real. None of it was real.
I repeat the words in my mind until I trust myself to speak.
“I’m not going back to Arbinj. My father will assume either Tormik or the rebels killed me.”
“Where will you go?”
“Volca, maybe. Or beyond.”
Her eyes seem to askWhat about me?
What about you, indeed.I could leave her here in the forest. Give her the supplies and the horse, even.
And leave her to the mercy of the rebels or Arbinj or Tundrayn.
Whoever finds her first.
Dread curdles my stomach.
“I don’t know what to do with you. But I’ll figure it out.”
She scoffs. “So I’m your prisoner again? What about whatIwant?”
The audacity of this woman to think I care about what she wants.
“Why did you knock me out?” she continues. “We worked together. We—” She sucks in a sharp gasp, evidently unable to saywe killed all those Tundraynis.
“I didn’t trust you not to attack me when I was weakened.” I gesture to her iron-shackled wrists. “I still don’t.”
“I healed you every night.” She has the nerve to sound offended.
“I still don’t know why.” I force ice into my voice. “And I don’t care.”
