“Suspicions or not, we are allied with Tundrayn,” my father continues, staring at the map with narrowed eyes. “Tormik hassent two battalions of warriors. We need to better utilize them. And if you were actually listening to Jeyzar’s last update, you’d know he suspects we’ve located the main rebel camp. Shifty bastards. It could be useful to have Tundrayn’s waterwielders when we’re ready to attack.”
“Still,” Faramir sniffs. “An entire skiesdamned camp of Tundrayni warriors? Within a day’s ride from the palace?” He shrugs his shoulders, rolling his eyes. “But what do I know? When has my opinion been respected? I’mjustthe future king. Right, Father?” His left eye twitches.
My father cuts his gaze away, clearing his throat. “Right.”
A faint prickling sensation crawls up my spine—he’s lying, at least partly. I can’t question it without drawing attention to my truthwielding.
Perhaps I can bring it up again tomorrow to glean more information.
I’ve tolerated enough from these two for tonight, anyway.
With a grunt, I rise from the table, not bothering to excuse myself. Across from me, Faramir stands as well.
“You stay,” my father says to him.
“Oh, sohegets to leave meetings early to go fuckmy—”
My teeth slam together louder than the door closing.
The hallways blur past me as I walk to our chambers, taking deep breaths to temper my anger at my vile brother before I see Mayah for the first time today.
Even as my anger slowly dissipates, agitation crackles through my veins—the Rebellion grows bolder. Stronger. It’s the only reason we’ve allowed Tundrayni warriors on Arbinji soil.
What if the rebels attack the palace? Perhaps I should show Mayah the secret tunnel entrance so she knows where to hide if I’m not with her.
With a curt nod to Gregoran and Freynk, I open the door to our chambers.
All thoughts flee my mind—Mayah sits on the sofa, clad in a sky-blue nightgown. And it’s ridden up to the middle of her thighs. The pale expanse of her creamy skin sets my heart racing.
I slowly rake my gaze over her, and it’s only then that I notice her hands are glowing.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, scanning her for injuries I might’ve missed when my vision was clouded with desire.
She gestures to her legs, her face flushing. “I’m sore. From, um, standing.”
I suppress my smile. “My poor baby healer. Can’t handle a bite of soreness?”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the smile tugging at her full lips.
I stride to the washroom. “Don’t waste your reserves. I’ll be right out.” Scanning the shelves, I snag a bottle of rose oil. Mayah watches as I return and settle onto the sofa beside her, pulling her bare legs into my lap.
“Zev—” The soft pop of the bottle uncorking interrupts her.
“Relax,” I whisper, deepening my voice. A shiver runs through her. “Let me take care of you.”
I warm the oil in my hands before gliding them up her calves, gently massaging her muscles. A sweet moan bursts free as she presses her thighs together tightly.
“What are you doing?” Her voice is breathy and low, and Skies damn me, the things I want to do to her.
“Easing your aches.” A broad grin unfurls across my lips. She’s coming undone in my hands, and I fucking love it. “You don’t have to fix everything with your power. Some of our backwards methods are effective, too.”
I wink at her, and her lips part, eyes hooded.
I knead firm circles into her legs, slowly working my way higher.
Higher.
Her skin is soft and smooth beneath my hands, but I’m riveted to her face. Her pupils are blown wide, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
