Between Tides & Thunder

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

THE NARROW CORRIDORS SEEM even more cramped beneath the weight of Zev’s rage as we return to our room. We’re nearly there, when a door in the hallway flings open. Sura leans out, wearing a deep, burgundy dress and her lopsided smile.

“I thought I heard someone stamping through here.” Pushing off the doorframe, she links her arm through mine, ignoring Zev completely. “There’s a dance tonight. We have one every other week or so. You must come. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

I cut my eyes toward Zev—I don't want to leave him, not after the explosive conversation with his mother. But he won't meet my gaze. He probably doesn't even want any comfort I might offer. When Sura tugs me toward her room, I let her. I turn back to find Zev staring at our linked arms, eyes shadowed.

“I’ll—I’ll see you later?” My voice rises at the end. I still don’t know where we stand. He gives a barely perceptible nod and stalks into our room.

The door slams shut.

Sura’s room is small but tidy—her side at least. There’s a clear demarcation where Tumaas’s chaos begins.

For a moment, my best friend just looks at me. “Oh, Mayah,” she murmurs, and then I’m wrapped in her embrace. I’m not sure who starts crying first, but within minutes, we’re a sobbing heap of shaking limbs on the floor.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cries into my shoulder.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” My voice is hoarse. “I am sorry. I didn’t do enough for nonwielders. You couldn’t come home. He-he never let it be your home. I’m happy you found your place. Truly.”

We draw back, wiping away each other’s tears. “You did what you could,” she whispers, her lopsided smile wavering. “And we’re together now.”

With a loud sniffle, she rises, bringing me along with her. I settle onto her neatly made bed—Tumaas’s thin mattress is covered with wrinkled clothing and a stained leather apron. She rummages through her closet, selecting a few dresses and handing them to me.

I try the dresses on, waiting for her to ask me about Zev, but she never does. Truthfully, I’m relieved. What would I even say? I’m married to the man who tried to kill you? I’m torn about my feelings for him? He hates me most of the time?

The words knot in my throat. So I say nothing at all.

The makeshift dance hall is one of the smaller structures in the Rebellion camp. The walls are uneven, clearly thrown together in haste—I suspect the earthwielder responsible might have been tipsy. Flickering lanterns cast a warm glow across the space. The floor is scuffed and stained, but it’s been cleared to make room for dancing—just enough space for a dozen people to move freely without bumping elbows.

Sura links her arm through mine, smoothing the blue fabric of my borrowed dress, and tugs me through the crowd. The room hums with life—men and women spi

But as I trudge deeper, a hush ripples through the room like a sudden, silencing breeze. Conversations falter, movements slow. Even the ragtag group of musicians in the corner stops playing when they see me.

Sura coughs loudly, hand on her hip. That’s all it takes for the room to find its rhythm again. She drags me through the crowd and introduces me to her friends—the new life she’s created.

“This is Mona.” Sura slings her arm around the shoulders of a petite girl with chin-length blond hair. “She works with me in the childcare area. You should see her with the munchkins. She blends right in.” Mona elbows Sura in the ribs, rolling her eyes.

Sura introduces me to a few more people, though I’m embarrassed to admit I forget their names almost immediately. One of the men works in the kitchens, another in the armory. I smile brightly, offering pleasantries, but my gaze keeps returning to the door.

I don’t recognize anyone who walks through. Disappointment wells in my chest, but I keep my smile frozen on my face.

Back turned to the door, I’m nursing a mug of ale as I listen to one of the women prattle on about how handsome Tumaas is.

“Bleurgh.” Sura pretends to vomit. “I don’t know what you lot see in him. Besides, he’s spoken for. Right, Mayah-bear?”

I don’t respond. There’s a sudden shift in the air. It vibrates through me until every molecule in my body thrums. My fingers tighten around my glass.

If conversations faltered when I entered, the room goes deathly still now. With stark clarity, I realize why Tairna wants me to lead. The people fear Zev—despise him, even.

Zev.

His gaze burns into my back. Slowly, I pivot and face my husband. He hasn’t changed out of his clothes, still wearing the same dark shirt and trousers we’d arrived in.

His stormy gaze rakes over me, lingering on the dark, loose curls around my shoulders, my rouge-tinted lips, the bare skin above the sweetheart neckline of my borrowed blue dress.

When his eyes meet mine again, they’re as dark as night, their heat searing into me from clear across the room. A ripple of anticipation skitters down my spine, and for a brief, foolish second, I think he’ll approach me.

Nothing prepares me for the jarring plummet in my stomach when he strides to the bar instead, flagging down the barkeep.

A glass shatters somewhere behind me, followed by a loud whoop, and the room resumes its joy.

“Mayah?” Sura nudges my shoulder.

“W-what?” I stammer, turning to her.

Her deep blue eyes narrow as she studies my face, glancing toward the bar. “I asked if you want to dance.”

“Oh. Um, no. I’m all right. You go ahead.”

“I’ll check in on you soon,” she promises with a quick kiss to my cheek, then joins the crowd on the floor. The dance is nothing like the Tundrayni drum dance or even the ballroom dance of Arbinj—it’s something else entirely, all loose limbs, swaying hips, and wide smiles as partners twirl each other, never releasing their joined hands.

I watch Sura for a while. She moves with a carefree energy that I almost envy, her head thrown back in joy. She’s been happy—she must have been to laugh so freely. My heart swells at the thought, but there’s also an undercurrent of grief I can’t ignore.

“You should ask him to dance,” a warm voice says in my ear.

I startle. It’s Zev’s mother, leaning on the table beside me. I hadn’t heard her approach in the raucous room. Her eyes are ringed in red, as if she cried long after we left her office. Still, she manages to smile as she adds, “He can’t keep his eyes off you.”

My cheeks heat.

If he wanted to dance with me, he would have asked. The bitter words bounce around my head, but I can’t exactly voice them to my mother-in-law. Instead, I gesture to the table, and we sit.

I fidget with my hands, and after a beat, ask the question that’s lingered on my tongue since I learned she knew Mama.

“What do you remember about my mother?”

The lines around Tairna’s mouth tighten. “She was brave. Kind. We both arrived within weeks of each other. Not this camp, of course. Everyone fled after Tormik discovered it. Those who survived, anyway.” She sighs, tapping her fingers on the worn table. “Meerah kept her identity a secret, but I could tell from her ma

Tairna’s eyes glisten, and when she smiles, it’s grief that hugs the curve of her lips. “I tried to convince her to send you back, Mayah. I-I don’t know if that was right of me. But I knew a king would never tolerate losing his heir. But she wouldn’t listen. She loved you. More than her own life. She couldn’t bear to be parted from you.” Tairna reaches across the table and brushes a tear from my cheek. I’m not sure when I began crying.

My mother-in-law takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “She would have been proud of the woman you’ve become.” Her hand covers mine over the table, and I’m surprised to find I welcome her comfort.

Tairna bites her lip, her dark gaze fixed over my shoulder. “I didn’t want to leave him, Mayah. But I had no other choice. It killed me bit by bit every day, knowing he was still there. Alone. And it’s killing me now to see the pain I caused him. I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me.” A lone tear slides down her cheek, quickly wiped away. “But just being near him is enough.”

Her words slice through me in a way I don’t expect.

I know exactly how she feels.

“Will you tell me about him?” she requests softly. There’s hesitation in her eyes, but also hope.

“He thought you were dead. It’s haunted him.” I resist the urge to turn and look at him. “It’s been difficult for Zev with Faramir and his father. But even through all that grief, all the evil around him, he managed to turn out good. And, I think, it’s because of you.”

Another tear slides down her cheek as she shakes her head. “That’s kind of you to say. But Vayru made himself into who he is.” She sniffles, wiping her tears. “What about his relationship with his father?” Her fingers absently rub her wrist.

I press my lips into a grim line. At the palace, I had viewed everything Varad did through a lens of hatred. Now, I’m not sure.

“I think Varad loves him in his own way.” Tairna’s lips tighten into a scowl. “He wasn’t a good father by any means. But he tolerated more disrespect from Zev than my father would’ve ever allowed from me.” I cut my gaze to hers. “The marriage proposal to his ‘second son’ was just an excuse. Varad intended to ransom me—he told me as much. I think he only agreed to the marriage because he could see that Zev—” The words don’t want to pass through my lips. “Zev cared about me.” My voice cracks.

Tairna doesn’t say anything for several heartbeats, just swirls the amber liquid in her glass. “Has Zev been happy?”

I don’t want to tell her the truth.

“I think he’s been alone for a long time. He doesn’t trust anyone. Doesn’t let anyone in.”

She gives me a soft smile. “Until you.”

I take a deep swig of ale to mask the trembling of my lips. When I don’t return Tairna’s smile, hers slowly fades. “Were you disappointed to have married him? Instead of Faramir?”

“No. Not at all.” My words ring with truth. “I was relieved, actually. Zev and I had gotten to know each other better during the journey. I knew he was a good man. That he wouldn’t hurt me. That … I could trust him.” Fresh tears well in my eyes. I take a shaky breath, forcing my heart to slow.

“And are you happy with my son?” she asks softly.

“I-I don’t think Zev would like it if he knew I’d discussed our marriage this way.”