“Still, you must admit—” Thunder rumbles, loud and sudden, and Faramir sucks in a sharp breath.
“Next time you make an accusation against my wife, make sure your proof is unshakeable. The Rebellion has been a problem for years. It seems you need reminding that the rebels were the main reason for alliance with Tundrayn in the first place. The timing of this attack is mere coincidence.”
Rain begins to sluice the windows.
I take a deep breath, reining in my fury before the storm rages harder and terrifies my wife.
“All right,” my father says quietly. “We’ll concede Mayah is innocent. But if her father is working with the Rebellion … then what do you propose we do?”
“Is there evidence of this?”
“A good commander explores all possibilities. We’ve allowed the Tundraynis to set up a camp within our borders. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that they forged an alliance with the Rebellion against us.”
Fuck being a good commander. I want to be a good husband.
“I find it highly unlikely that Tormik would have sent us his defenseless daughter, then proceeded to work with the Rebellion behind our backs. He’d be a fool.”
My father regards me coolly over steepled fingers, lips pursed together. He seems content to let the subject rest.
For now.
Chapter Thirty-Six
It’sbeentwodayssince I’ve seen Mayah—not counting watching her sleep in our bed after I trudge back mere hours before dawn.
Three attacks in three days. All on Arbinji bases.
No attacks on Tundrayn. At least not that we’ve heard. I’ve spent every waking moment in the council chambers strategizing, counting resources, trying to anticipate the Rebellion’s next move.
Trying to convince my father that Mayah isn’t involved.
I’m not certain about Tundrayn anymore, though. Could Tormik truly have betrayed Arbinj while his daughter lives within our walls? Perhaps he doesn’t care if Mayah is harmed in retaliation—he sent her here, after all, to marry Faramir. Never comforted her during thunderstorms, even when she was a child.
And he hasn’t sent her a single letter. The disappointment on Mayah’s face every time she musters the courage to ask me fills me with more hatred for that man than I ever thought possible.
“I’ll return later,” I announce to the room. The door creaks its protest, but no one else voices dissent, though a few advisers share pointed glances. Faramir does nothing to conceal his massive eyeroll.
I don’t give a skiesdamn.
Ten minutes later, I’m striding into the infirmary.
Mayah freezes when she sees me, shoulders drawn tight, though I don’t miss the flicker of warmth—ofhope—that passes through her gaze.
Her energy signature pulses faintly, the currents huddled around her. My wife is happy to see me, but she’s also nervous. My brows knit together. The last time we spoke—
Skies, it was after our kiss in the closet. She must think I’ve stayed away on purpose. That I’m upset with her.
I need to rectify this immediately.
Sauzon wisely disappears into the supply room.
“Hi,” she says tentatively, playing with the sleeve of her gown.
I don’t bother with words, just cross the room and pull her into my arms. She melts against me, nuzzling my chest, and I breathe in her frost and winter rose scent.
“I’ve missed you,” I murmur. “Do you have time for a walk?”
Adoration lights her eyes as she nods. A brief moment of hesitation, and then my wife rises up on her tiptoes, brushes a soft kiss against my jaw, and steals another piece of my heart.
