“Arbinji whore!”
The sky rumbles. The red of rage blurs my vision at their vicious words. I raise a hand. Lightning crashes into both of them, their bodies hitting the muddy ground with mutedthuds.
Mayah stiffens beside me, eyes fixed on the third warrior. Her hand wavers before she sends two ice spears in quick succession at the woman. The waterwielder melts the first one, but the second one finds its target in her abdomen. Mayah exhales a sharp gasp when the woman hits the ground.
“Are you all right?” I ask. Her eyes don’t move from the dead bodies, guilt twisting her features, and I know she’s thinking of the dead waterwielders we left in another camp.
Her nod is jerky and unpersuasive, but I don’t press her on it. I sense a large tangle of signatures pulsing faintly in the distance—whether they’re Arbinji soldiers or rebels, I couldn’t say.
I lace our hands together. “C’mon.”
Luckily for us, it’s the rebels. They’ve erected a makeshift command center, wielders and nonwielders gathered in the small room. When I spot Tairna standing at the front giving orders, relief surges through me, along with a brief pang of guilt that she only crossed my mind after I found Mayah.
Her voice is steady as she assigns one team to dig out survivors. One team assigned to defend the east side of camp, and another to the west side.
“One more team to patrol the perimeter,” I call. “I’ll lead.”
She freezes, wide eyes finding me in the crowd. Then she quickly carves a path through her rebels and barrels into me, arms wrapping me in an iron-tight embrace. I find Mayah’s face over Tairna’s head, watching us with despondent, wistful eyes.
Tairna, with some magical maternal instinct, releases me and turns to her, pulling Mayah into her arms next. She cradles her face with gentle hands before yanking me in the hug along with them.
So I hold them. The only two people who matter to me.
My mother and my wife. Arms locked around them, I hold them as though it might be the last time.
Because it might very well be.
One minute is all Tairna allows us. Then she pulls back, wipes away her tears, and steels her spine like the commander she is.
“Send a missive to the Volcans and the other rebel camps. Tell them to send as many men as they can spare,” I say.
“I already did,” my mother responds. “I don’t know how long it will take, though. We need to hold them off until then.”
“We will. I’ll round up the men for the perimeter.” I turn toward the exit, Mayah close on my heels.
“Mayah,” Tairna calls. She clutches Mayah’s hand. “We can’t risk anything happening to you. When the dust settles,youneed to lead.”
Mayah’s lips twist in apology. “I go with Zev.”
The four simple words punch through me like a physical blow. They gut my mother in a different way. “Zev. Shecannotgo with you.”
I study Mayah’s determined face, our gazes locked together. There’ll be no convincing her to remain here. And I’m not sure I want her out of my sight. I lace my fingers through hers. “There’s no stopping her, Mother. I’ll protect her. Or I’ll die.”
A shuddering sob trembles from Tairna’s lips, and I belatedly realize this was the first time I’ve called her “Mother.”
One more tight embrace that feels far too much like farewell, and then we’re on our way.
Near the wall, the sounds of battle echo through the night. A group of Arbinji earthwielders face off against a handful of rebels. Thick vines writhe from the soil, slamming into stone and limbs alike. Mayah gasps when she spots Tumaas, his dark braids swinging as he slices through a vine with his bloodied sword. The blond woman kneels behind a crumbling wall, crossbow aimed.
We dart toward them, our assigned group of rebels at our sides, Mayah’s panicked footsteps drawing the attention of the earthwielders. Another arrow embeds in the one nearest to Mayah as she approaches Tumaas, likely to ask what the fuck he’s doing back out here instead of remaining with Sura and the children.
I focus on the Arbinji soldiers eyeing me with wary eyes. Their hesitation vanishes when I raise my sword and start cutting down the men. Every so often, I glance back at Mayah—she’s still talking to Tumaas. Something squeezes my heart. A stray arrow whistles through the air, passing through the scant space between their faces.
“Enough chatter!” I snap, partly because I want her to stop talking to him.
They fall into formation.
And we fight.
