Between Tides & Thunder

The Grand Hall is where Crown Prince Faramir will accept me as his betrothed, sealing both my fate and my kingdom’s.

I shake my head.

The woman’s hands still, lingering on the fabric of my gown.

“I’m sorry, Princess.” A lump forms in my throat as her pitying gaze meets mine in the mirror. She squeezes my hand, her eyes glistening. “When … when he comes to your bed, just do as he says, Princess. It will be easier.”

I nod numbly, but inside I’m screaming.

How many women before me were told the same thing?

How many will come after?

She says nothing more as she hems a few threads that had unraveled.

When she finishes, I undress in silence.

I try not to let it suffocate me.

I’ve barely settled into my bed, heavy fur blanket tugged up to my chin, when the door creaks open.

I don’t need light to know it’s him.

Daak slips in like he always does, a quiet presence in the dark. His silhouette crosses the room, and the mattress dips beneath his weight. I shift, making space, and he gathers me against his chest like he always has.

His scent washes over me—fresh snow and spruce—and for a moment, I let myself forget what tomorrow holds.

“I’m so sorry, Mayah,” he whispers into my hair, his voice cracked and raw. It fissures something in my chest.

“I know,” I breathe. My heart aches. It hurts how much I find comfort in him. In this. In pretending, just for tonight, that nothing will change.

But everything will.

“I wish things were different,” he murmurs, stroking soothing patterns down my spine. “That I’d met you in another life. One where you weren’t a princess. One where I wasn’t bound to your father.”

My throat tightens.

“One where I wasn’t promised to the enemy,” I say softly.

He doesn’t respond for a long time.

Then—“You’re more than just a promise to me, Mayah. My heart is yours.”

A beat. And then he pulls back, just enough to see my face in the dim light. His blue eyes are aching with all the words we never dared say.

“I love you,” he whispers, finally letting them crystallize.

I blink. The words land somewhere deep inside me, like a drop of warm water in an endless, frozen sea.

“I love you, too, Daak.” My voice is soft, as if saying the words too loud will shatter the precious moment around us.

“I know,” he whispers back. “I’ve always known.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’ll always love you, Mayah. And I’ll find you.”

The words linger between us—fragile, final.

Fleeting.

A sudden boom of thunder rattles the icy walls of my chambers, and I gasp, instinctively burying my face in his chest.

There hadn’t been a storm in weeks.

Daak tightens his hold. “It’s just noise,” he says, but he knows it’s more than that. He’s seen what it does to me.

Thunderstorms used to be rare in Tundrayn, but they’ve grown more frequent in the last two decades. And every single one steals the air from my lungs. They reduce me to a child again—small, sniveling, helpless.

What will I do in Arbinj, the land of brutal stormwielders and their violent thunderstorms?

“Mayah,” Daak says, gently tilting my chin. His forehead presses against mine. “You’re going to survive this. You’re going to do what you’ve always done. You’ll create a better future for all of Tundrayn. And you’ll do it with that stubborn fire in your chest that terrifies half the palace. And me, if I’m being honest.”

I laugh, but it’s watery. “You make me sound like a force of nature.”

“You are.”

Another rumble shakes the windows. I flinch, and Daak holds me tighter.

“I’ll see you again,” he says, voice fierce in the dark.

He holds me until I fall asleep, the storm raging around us.