“Really, Mayah. I—” Words fail me as I gaze down at her pale face, etched with concern. A quiet “thank you” is all that passes my lips.
Chapter Seventy-One
It’sbeenfivedayssince the attack.
Five days of digging out survivors from under the rubble—though by the fourth and fifth days, the number of dead far outnumbered the living pulled from beneath rock and steel.
Five days of planning alongside Tairna—missives sent to both palaces, endless coordination with the newly arrived Volcans.
Five days since I last saw Mayah—well, since she sawme. I’m embarrassed to admit how many times I’ve crept by the infirmary, searching for the faint pulse of her energy signature through the wall, reassuring myself that she was still there, still all right.
I was too much of a coward to go inside and face her—
—to say goodbye.
Because now it’s time.
Tormik and Faramir and my father are dead. She’ll win over the Arbinji people—I’m certain of it. And Tairna will help her sort things with Tundrayn. I need to leave. I know it in my bones.
And still my hand shakes when I open the door to my mother’s makeshift office. She sits behind a smaller desk. Someoneretrieved her painting of Mother Valca from beneath the rubble—it rests against the wall, dented and dirty, but upright.
Purple shadows smudge my mother’s eyes, hair escaping her five-day-old braid. She offers me a tired smile.
It drops before it even has the chance to settle on her face.
“You’re leaving.” Not a question.
My answer is a deep sigh. The chair scrapes against the floor as I sit down across from her, cradling my head in my hands.
“Yes.”
“We’ve discussed this at length. If this is your decision, I won’t try to stop you. When will you leave?” Her voice is brittle and hopeless, and it claws at my heart. I lean back in the chair, tracking the silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Tomorrow morning.”
She nods, lips pressed into a thin line. “Take whatever supplies you need. I can send a few men with you to—”
“No. I’ll be fine on my own.” My voice catches. “Just … just promise me once more that you’ll do whatever it takes to protect Mayah. Love her like your own blood.”
Steely resolve carves itself into her expression. She sniffles softly, then wipes her tears with the backs of her hands. “I will do everything in my power to do right by the woman you love. I swear it, Vayru.”
“Thank you.” A hoarse, broken whisper. In the next heartbeat, Mother rises from her seat, stumbles around her desk, and wraps her arms around me.
“I love you, Vayru,” she whispers, tears wet against my neck. “I’ve loved you always. You are a good man. And it is the honor of my life to be your mother.”
Truth.
Mother eventually draws back and wipes away the tears from my cheeks that I hadn’t even realized had fallen. “Are you going to say goodbye?” I know she means to Mayah.
“No. It’ll be easier this way.”
My footsteps feel weighted with lead as I trudge through the crumbling remains of the camp toward my newly assigned room—one that I share with Mayah. She’s spent nearly every waking moment in the infirmary, so it’s been easy to avoid her.
The room is sparse—a too-small bed, a narrow dresser, and a lone armchair are the only pieces of furniture. A heavy sigh escapes me as I open the top drawer and begin folding the few articles of clothing I’ve managed to scrounge in the last few days.
Mayah’s betrothal ring burns in my pocket. I bury it inside a crumpled shirt, then stuff it into the satchel Mother gave me, the taste of ash and regret coating my tongue.
My resolve isn’t as strong as it was—but I need to do this. There’s still a burning, festering rage in my chest, a pit carved open by her betrayal—misguided as it was—and I fear she’ll end up burned because I can’t move on. She’ll—
