She glances at me, long, pointed nails digging into my arm. “Or … if you wish to remain unmarried, I could—I could bear your child. It would bring honor to my family. I’m a powerful earthwielder.”
My neck prickles again, and I clench my fists.
Is she not an earthwielder? Or just not a powerful one? It doesn’t matter what the lie is—I want nothing to do with her.
I extricate myself from her grip. “Listen, Zyra.” She flinches, her energy signature huddling around her. “I don’t need a wife or a broodmare. I’ll put in a good word for you with some of the unwed noblemen.”
Before she can answer, I stride away.
The irritating sensation dissipates by the time I reach the council chambers. My hand hovers over the handle while I savor the momentary respite. Undoubtedly, the prickling will return with a vengeance within minutes of Faramir or my father speaking. I live in perpetual discomfort when I’m not alone.
Everyone is a liar.
The energy signatures are faint through the door, but I still recognize my father’s quiet, thrumming currents and Faramir’s manic energy. No advisers.
The door creaks open as though it’s just as reluctant as I am.
“Brother!” Faramir’s prattling voice greets. Sunlight cascades through the large windows behind him, limning his blond hair. And his near-permanent sneer. “You’ve madewaveswith my future in-laws.” He grins, eyes as sharp as his smile.
I settle into my seat with a grunt. My father regards me with a displeased expression, mouth turned down at the corners.
Fuck him and his displeasure.
“What happened, Zevayr?” he asks evenly, fingers steepled beneath his bearded chin. “I am in the position of explaining to the skiesdamned bastard why we broke the ceasefiremere daysafter agreeing to it.”
“I didn’t receive the missive in time.” I grab a handful of grapes from the golden platter at the center of the table. “Why did we agree to a ceasefire anyway?”
Open, unseeing eyes.Icy, rigid skin.
Cold juice bursts across my tongue, but I don’t taste it.
“Given the increasing Rebellion numbers, Tormik proposed an alliance. Their princess will wed Faramir. Along with the ceasefire, we agreed to support each other against the rebels.” He taps a long finger against his cheek. “Oh, and they want food stores. Starving heathens.” His lip curls with disgust.
“When do they arrive?” I ask, popping another grape into my mouth.
My father and brother share a covert glance. Faramir snickers, and I resist the urge to throw something at him.
“I won’t allow waterwielders in Arbinj,” Father says slowly. “Never again. You will retrieve her.”
Wonderful.
Hot anger roils in my gut. Now, along with being Arbinj’s sword, I can also don the title of errand boy, tasked with delivering some spoiled princess. Even with our fastest carriages, the journey will take at least a week and a half. That’s far too much time alone with Faramir. I’m bound to kill him before we even set eyes on snow.
“When do we leave?”
The two men I despise most share another secretive glance.
“What now?” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“Faramir isn’t going. You will perform the betrothal in his stead and return with the girl for the marriage ceremony.”
Relief sparks through my chest even as a fresh wave of irritation surges through me.
“Why isn’t he going? She’shisbetrothed.”
“It’s too dangerous for him. Especially now with the ceasefire broken.” My father shoots me an annoyed look.
The back of my neck prickles. The asshole is lying. More likely, he’s worried about my unhinged brother embarrassing us in Tundrayn.
