“When you speak of Mayah,” I growl, “it will be.With.Respect.”
My father’s wide eyes flick to the storm outside, then back to me. He swallows hard, then straightens in his throne, assuming the mantle of unbothered king as though he weren’t cowering moments ago.
“All right, Zevayr,” he says breezily, waving a hand. “I’ll allow you this. Keep the princess in line, and we’ll see how the cards fall with Tundrayn.”
I nod stiffly. Faramir looks gleeful, as though I’ve given him a priceless gift.
And I have. Now he knows exactly how much I care for Mayah.
Chapter Twenty-Three
TorchlightflickersasIrush through corridors, just shy of running, toward Mayah’s guest chambers. The last two hours have been the longest I’ve been away from her in nearly six weeks. Agitation settles heavy in my gut.
Faramir couldn’t have done anything in the short time we were apart. I’d been there with him in the throne room. I’d have known if he’d given orders to a guard under his thumb.
Still, my legs pump faster until I reach the hallway in the east wing. The door opens as I approach, handmaids marching out in a neat line, gazes fixed on the floor as they file past me.
“Mayah?” I call as I enter.
She’s still in the washroom. So I wait, shifting on my feet, trying to ignore the way my power latches onto her thrumming energy signature, faint through the wall, butthere.
She remains inside for longer than I expect, but I suppose that’s normal after only bathing in the occasional stream for over a month.
The handle turns slowly, and she emerges.
My heart stops.
Bare skin everywhere I look. The handmaids dressed her in a short black nightgown, a matching silk robe thrown over it. My faithless eyes can’t decide where to look first—the tops of her breasts, begging me to feather kisses over them, the bare expanse of her legs, her still-dripping hair, curling around her face. I want to worship every inch of her.
Thighs. My gaze lingers on her thighs, where the lace of her nightgown brushes her skin. She shifts on her feet, and I manage to tear my gaze away and meet her blue eyes.
“Are you all right?” My voice turns rough, and I clear my throat, my eyes wandering again to her legs.
“The bath was nice. Aggressive, but nice.”
I frown. “I can assign you different handmaids, if—”
“No, no.” She shakes her head. “They were fine, truly. And so are the guards outside. Thank you.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, studying her face. No prickles. The handmaids can stay, then. Again, my eyes fall to her bare thighs, pressed tightly together.
“We’re not married yet,” Mayah says, cinching her robe tighter. “So, um…”
Shit. I take a half step back. I’ve made her nervous with my incessant gawking. “I’m not here forthat, Mayah.” I clear my throat again, forcing myself to stare at the wall above her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“Whyareyou here, then?” she demands, crossing her arms.
“If I know my brother, he’ll pay you a visit tonight.”
“Oh. And tomorrow?” she whispers, naked vulnerability threading her voice. “Will you expect …that… from me tomorrow?”
“I’ll never force you to do anything, Mayah,” I murmur, hand wavering at my side. I want to cup her face, reassure her that she’s safe with me. “I’ll only come to your bed when you inviteme.” I gesture toward the large bed. “Throw me a pillow. I’ll find an extra blanket and sleep on the floor.”
That seems to alleviate her worries.
After taking as quick a bath as I can manage in her washroom, I settle onto the floor beside the bed. Even in darkness, I’m painfully aware of Mayah—her every breath, every movement that rustles the sheets wrapped around her.
“This is stupid, Zev,” she mutters, her voice soft in the dark.
