My gaze snaps to the window just as a bolt of lightning cuts through the night sky, followed by another boom. Without warning, rain begins to sluice the windows.
It’s a violent, natural storm.
And Mayah is alone.
My chair scrapes against the floor as I jump up, rattling the candelabras resting on the table.
I’m heedless of the confused eyes tracking me across the room, my father’s gritted warning. The door slams shut behind me. I walk briskly through the corridors, heading toward our chambers.
Another vicious clap of thunder has me bolting through the halls, uncaring of who sees. Let them think I’ve gone mad. I don’t give a damn. My existence has been reduced to one purpose:Mayah. I need to get to Mayah.
Gregoran and Freynk watch me with wary eyes but say nothing as I fling the door open, hinges creaking in protest. “Mayah!”
She’s curled beneath the covers, and Skies, I can see her shoulders shaking from here. I barely register shutting the door, crossing the room.
“No,” she whimpers, her muffled voice splintering my heart. “No, no, no.”
Carefully, I peel the covers off her head. Cheeks damp with tears, she’s trembling in the sweat-soaked sheets. I grip her upper arms, forcing my voice to be steady. “Mayah, open your eyes.” It must spook her, because she begins thrashing.
“No! No, no, no!” Her piercing cries threaten to unravel my sanity. I need to help her out of this. “NO! NO!” Her limbs flail as she writhes in my hold, trying to jerk out of my grasp.
Her eyes are still clenched shut, fresh tears streaming down her pale face, shoulders shaking with fear. My chest is tight, and there’s a lump in my throat I need to fight past to say, “Mayah.Mayah, it’s me.”It’s me, my love.“You’re safe, baby. Open your eyes.”
Her breath catches. She stops struggling.
Her eyes flutter open, and thank the Skies, she seesme.
She launches herself into my arms, her sobs shaking us both.
I clutch her to my chest, stroking her hair, wiping her tears, whispering into her ear for what feels like hours. I’ve never feltso helpless. What good is my power if I can’t banish the storms that plague her?
Eventually the storm dies down, leaving behind a gentle drizzle. Mayah’s tears have dried, but her slender frame still trembles in my arms. If I pressed my palm to her chest, I’m certain I’d feel her still-thundering heart.
Mayah draws back slightly, and I’m loath to ease my grip.
“Thank you,” she rasps. Then her eyes widen. “The Volcan delegation. You were supposed to—”
“It’s all right,” I murmur, brushing back a damp lock of her hair. “My father and brother will take care of it. I need to take care of you.”
My wife’s lip trembles, and a storm passes through her eyes, slow-moving and shimmering. She blinks back her tears, but the warmth brimming in her blue gaze remains. For a moment, I think she might speak, might voice the thoughts swirling in her beautiful head.
Might tell me how she feels.
But she doesn’t—just burrows deeper into me.
Disappointment flickers in my chest before I douse it. She needs time. It’s enough that she finds comfort in me. That she trusts me.
“You said there were thunderstorms in Tundrayn? Over the last two decades?” I ask softly, rubbing gentle circles on her bare shoulder. It’s odd—thunderstorms in the tundra? I’ve never heard of such a thing, though I’m not exactly an expert on terrain and climate.
“Nearly every month. Sometimes several.”
“What did you do, then?”
She swallows hard, averting her gaze. “I cried. Cowered.” The self-loathing in her voice cuts through me, sidles alongside my own.We are the same, it whispers. “Sometimes I passed out in bed.” Her eyes find mine, teeth worrying her lower lip. “Andwhen I was older, I wasn’t always … alone. I mean—I’ve never, um. But…”
My fingers freeze on her skin.
That fucking captain.
