Hands that clutched the captain’s shoulders while he kissed her. While she was still wearing my fucking ring.
“Leave them,” I growl, batting her away. I jump to my feet, stalking toward the mare to avoid looking at her.
Distance. I need distance.
The mare nickers softly as I feed her an apple from my satchel. I couldn’t find a brush back at the camp, so I make do with my hand. For several blissful minutes, I pretend I’m alone.
And then the sky darkens overhead, thunder drumming in the distance. My eyes slice to Mayah—she’s already looking at me, panic and fear warring in her gaze. Fuck.
Maybe it’ll pass quickly. Maybe it won’t be loud.
Maybe she won’t have a panic attack.
Maybe for once, just this once, the Skies will have mercy on me.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Eighttimes.
Eight times Mayah’s wary gaze has turned skyward. But the dark clouds don’t pass. They gather overhead, swollen with rain.
I douse the fire and pitch a small tent that I snagged from the camp. When I sit down across from her on the grass, her hands are trembling.
“I told you my plan,” I tell her. “What doyouwant?”
Hopefully, the conversation will serve as a distraction from the impending storm.
“Revenge.” She doesn’t hesitate. “I want to kill my father.”
My brows furrow. “You can barely cope with what happened at the camp.”
“That’s different. Those men were innocent. Hemurderedmy mother. Tormented me with storms for twenty years. I was a tidesdamnedchild. And if that weren’t enough, he molded me into a weapon with his lies.”
A pang of something—pity, maybe—flickers inside me. I ignore it.
“Fine. And then?”
“I’ll rule Tundrayn.”
“You really believe your people will accept you as queen after you murder their king? After what we did to those warriors?”
She crosses her arms, teeth sinking into her lower lip. “They’ll have to. Who knows what else my father has done? What other atrocities he’s committed? I can’t leave him to rule.”
“And how will you go about this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe—maybe I’ll return to Arbinj. Make another deal with your father.”
I freeze. Of course, she has a plan. She always has a plan.
Perhaps she’ll marry Faramir after all.
“I won’t tell him about you,” she adds quickly. “I can say my father killed you. Or the rebels. Like you said.”
A bitter scoff tears free. “So clever. So cunning. I was a fool not to see it before.”
“You don’t have to trust me,” she snaps. The brisk wind whips through her loose hair, whistling through the trees, and she huddles tighter, knees clutched to her chest. “But stop pretending like I haven’t already proven I’m not your enemy.”
“What makes you think you have?” I growl.
