Between Tides & Thunder

Zev snarls, low and venomous, before the rumble of thunder drowns it out. The air crackles, and he rises from his chair, fists clenched, but I place a quick hand on his forearm, casting him a meaningful glance. Don’t let him rile you. Zev hesitates but lowers himself back into the chair, shoulders tight with anger.

A broad grin stretches Faramir’s mouth as he watches our exchange.

“Like my outfit, brother? I wanted to honor Mayah.” He lingers over my name, keeping it on his tongue for as long as he can. A shudder of revulsion skitters through me. Tides, he’s determined to get a rise out of his brother.

Zev exhales sharply through his nose. “Only you could make such a beautiful color look disgusting.”

“Only you would sleep with your brother’s betrothed.”

The thunder booms louder. I flinch—Zev’s hand finds my thigh beneath the table, squeezing gently.

“Stop bringing that up. Mayah is my wife.”

Faramir smirks, as if nothing pleases him more than his brother’s rage. “Your display of power at the ceremony,” he drawls, crossing his arms. “It was disappointing, brother. I expected lightning bright enough to sear the skies all the way to Tundrayn. Thought you’d want to impress my sister-in-law.” His u

“Is there anything else, Faramir?” Zev grits out.

Faramir is silent, his mocking grin frozen on his face. “No, I suppose not. We have all the time in the world to get to know each other.” Without another word, he pivots and strides away, his guards trailing him.

Zev rakes a violent hand through his hair. “Sorry,” he mutters, glancing at me sideways. “He’s an ass.”

“Has it always been this way between you two?” Sura is the closest thing I had to a sibling, and we were inseparable. Until the war separated us.

“Pretty much. Faramir has hated me since we were children.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “He sees me as a threat to the crown—I’m the stronger wielder. He doesn’t believe that I don’t want the throne.”

“What do you want?” I murmur. “Besides leaving the realm.”

He scans my face. His hand tightens on my thigh. “Right now? I want to ditch this party and show you something.”

“We can’t leave our own reception,” I laugh, lacing my fingers with his.

“We can, and we will.” His smile is conspiratorial, and I find myself returning it. It’s easy to smile with him. “Come on.”

His hand is warm in mine as we cross the hall. But when we reach the center of the dance floor, a guard stops us, speaking to Zev in a hushed whisper, too low for me to make out.

A deep sigh escapes Zev, and he glares at the table where his brother is seated. “I’ll be right back,” he says, jaw clenched tight, before marching to Faramir’s table.

Everything happens quickly after that.