Mayah’s water arcs through the air, arrows hitting the mark where she misses. Tumaas and I fight close-range, fresh blood staining the ground again and again until all the soldiers are dead.
Wiping the sweat from my brow, I toss a loaf of bread toward Tumaas. He barely catches it in time, eyeing me with suspicion.
I tear off a large chunk from another loaf inside my cloak, handing most of it to Mayah. Tumaas and the blond woman catch their breath, standing close together, whispering quietly. Mayah watches them, a strange sort of wistfulness passing through her eyes. Is she jealous?
“Ready?” Tumaas says, walking over to us. “We should keep—”
He never finishes his sentence because the ground tears open and a skiesdamnedearthwielderleaps out, energy signature pulsing wildly.
Dirt coats his face and dulls the gleam of the sword in his hand. He hauls his arm back, aiming for Tumaas.
No. Not him. Mayah can’t lose someone else she loves.
I don’t think—just shove him out of the way. The earthwielder’s sword cuts through my side. A hard thrust, and my blade rams through his abdomen.
Somewhere behind me, Mayah screams.
The soldier falls to the ground, blood trickling down one side of his mouth.
“Zev!” Mayah screams again, running toward me with glowing hands.
“It’s just a scratch,” I grunt, even as warm blood seeps through my tunic. “Save your—”
“Shut up,” she hisses, her face a mask of fury. She shoves me to the ground, hands covering my wound. Cool power flows through me, the bleeding gash knitting together. Not even a scar left behind. Another wave of healing power pulses through me, spreading across my body.
I grab her wrists, glaring at her. I can’t decide if I want to shove her away or drag her closer to me. Instead, I press another chunk of bread into her mouth. She chews it in a daze, forgetting to swallow until I tap her throat.
“You haven’t eaten,” she says, voice hoarse.
“That was the last of the food,” I lie. There’s still a long night ahead of us until reinforcements arrive from the other rebel camps—she’ll need it more than me.
Tumaas’s face pinches. “Mona and I can double back to the kitchens. We’ll get more food and come back.”
I shake my head. “Bring the food to Sura. The children must be hungry. We’ll head to the kitchens ourselves.”
He crosses his arms, jaw clenching. “You better not be making excuses to get rid of us. We can hold our own. I could’ve handled that tidesdamned earthwielder.”
I rise to my feet, brushing off my trousers. “We’d all feel better knowing the children are well guarded. Not by you. Your technique needs work.” I jerk my head toward the blond woman. “By her. Now go.”
He stands poised to argue, face reddening with every breath, but the woman has more sense than him and drags him away.
Mayah watches them leave. “Let’s go,” she says, turning to head toward the kitchens.
“Wait.” I grab her elbow. “Your reserves are low. It’ll be safer to walk the perimeter where the soldiers are sparse until we’re parallel to the kitchens, then descend into camp.”
“All right.” Her voice is soft. Eyes, trusting.
My heart twists in my chest.
Mayah’s footsteps are soft beside me as we traverse through the forest. The air smells like charred bodies and damp earth. Corpses are scattered across the ground—some rebel, some Arbinji—and Mayah pointedly stares ahead.
“You saved Tumaas,” she says quietly. Her gaze burns into the side of my face, but I can’t bring myself to look at her, not with jealousy searing a hole in my heart. The silence between us grows thicker, its oppressive weight heavy on my chest.
“We’re on the same side.” It’s not a lie, even as my jaw clenches tight. “And he’s your—”Friend? Something more?“I wasn’t going to let him die.”
“Thank—”
The ground trembles, a warning groan warbling as though the earth were in pain.
