Page 7 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

“First of all: what ?” Zephar gapes at me like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or shake me.

“Second, every destroyed realm contains innocent people, even those realms approved for destruction by Supreme and the Council. You gave them a chance, Kai, and frankly, the Grand Stewards in those realms failed. Sybel, Vallendor’s Grand Steward, also failed. They failed, and so we destroy them.”

He chomps down on a few black olives and adds, “Gasho finally started acting right today, but only out of desperation and fear. Those fucking cowslews and urts broke their spine. Today, we saved them, and they dusted off the altar, presented you with gifts, and now they expect us to forgive and forget everything they did or didn’t do. ”

I swallow the acid burning up my throat, and I look over to where that healer stood, the one I imagined motioning to me.

But she’s now gone.

“Do I want the Gashoans and all of Vallendor to serve me out of fear?” I ask Zephar distractedly. “Can you really punish people and expect them to love you in return?”

“I don’t make the rules, sweetness,” Zephar says, shrugging. “I just bring the fire.”

…

Rows of luxurious tents line one side of the settlement, each tent grand in size, crafted from silk and linen, and embroidered with protective runes. Mera don’t build permanent dwellings, since we move from realm to realm, destroying and restoring.

“And my tent?” I ask, nodding as I pass warriors bedding down for the night.

“You mean, our tent?” Zephar says. “We share.” He stops walking. “Oh. Is that okay?”

I chuckle. “Of course.” I tap my temple. “I forgot, remember?”

“That’s right,” he says, nodding. “And I must remember that you forgot.”

We laugh.

I must tell Zephar about Jadon and me…

Right?

Of course.

“Welcome home again,” Zephar says, approaching a gazebo three times the size of the others.

This tent is divided inside like a cottage and includes a sitting room with chairs, cushions, and a table. A wall separates the sleeping quarters from the rest, and our large, elevated bed is covered with quilts made of soft cottons and silks.

I’m sweaty and tired, and before I say, “I need a bath,” Zephar pulls two cauldrons from the fire burning in a hearth behind the tent.

“I know what you need,” he says, pouring hot water into a large, wooden tub.

“A hot bath and some of this…” He holds up a glass vial and pours its contents into the water.

The surface is soon covered by lavender-scented bubbles.

“I thought we ran out of that,” I say, pointing to the bottle in his hand.

He chuckles and says, “We did but when you were away, I had nothing to do, so…”

I grin and point at him. “You made the bubble-stuff! Just like your mother said you would! She was right! Admit it.”

He rolls his eyes and holds out his hands. “Fine. She was right. Learning how to make the bubble-stuff will now benefit the both of us.”

“You’re damn right it will.”

“Because I get to see you naked now.”

“You still want to see me naked?” I ask, eyebrow cocked.

“Fuck yeah,” he says, capping the vial, “but more than that, I want to see you happy, especially after a day like today.”

I hop on his back and nuzzle his neck. “Ha, you love me.”

He shakes his head, blushing.

I give him a sloppy kiss on his cheek. “I can’t wait to tell your mom that you made me bubble baths.”

He watches me undress, and his eyes slide from my breasts down to my hips. His gaze never leaves me even as I slip into the hot water and dip beneath the bubbles.

My skin tickles and warms.

“Are you joining me?” I scoop up bubbles and blow them into the air.

Zephar pushes off his breeches. His body is marked by those destroyed realms, orbs and symbols and tendrils rippling across his muscles. He stands there, this mighty warrior, in his perfect stance. Supreme is good all the time, and all the time, Supreme is good.

His golden eyes sparkle. “Am I still good enough?”

He’s swollen enough. He’s large enough. Oh, yeah. He’s good enough.

I stare at him in awe. There is no form like this man anywhere on Vallendor or in all of the 67,000 realms.

But he’s too big for this tub, and his legs and feet stick out like tree trunks.

“This isn’t gonna work,” I say.

He taps the side of the vat. “I’ll build us a bigger bathtub, one that fits two.”

I lift an eyebrow. “So a lake, then?”

He splashes me with water and grimaces as he shifts on the bench.

I wince. “You’re uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

He tries to grin. “A little longer.” He shifts again.

“Since last spring, we’ve bathed alone, and we’ve slept alone and…

” He splashes me with water again. “I just want to enjoy this. I just want to enjoy you. I just want to talk about crazy shit and sing stupid songs and…” He shrugs and smiles. “Be yours again.”

I say, “Yeah,” feeling like shit. Because I haven’t slept alone nor have I bathed alone, and I need to tell him that, but I don’t want to, even though I wasn’t in my right mind those times.

I couldn’t even remember my own name, so how could he expect me to remember his name or that we were together?

Yes, Jadon and I talked about the possibility that I had someone waiting for me.

What if you were already in love before waking up in Maford?

What if someone’s waiting for you? Back then, on that night as we sat on either end of a log, my heart told me that no one was waiting for me, that my heart would remember that kind of love.

An unforgettable love. Shit . I knew nothing.

I was wrong. Because here I am. In love.

“When others had given up,” Zephar is saying now, “when others grew convinced that either you weren’t coming back or had been killed, I knew. My heart knew. And so, I waited.”

Because that’s love.

Zephar carries me into our tent as I kiss and lick the muscles flexing along his jaw and neck, trying to focus only on him, to forget the guilt churning in my belly.

He’s iron beneath my hands and everywhere they roam, but then my hands find his face, and I close my eyes and something bubbles inside of me that shifts my desire to sadness.

He doesn’t speak, and soon, he pulls me into his arms and whispers, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“So much has…” Happened. Tears form in my throat and trickle down my cheek as I squeeze my eyes closed.

“I know,” he whispers, lifting my chin. “I can wait—we have forever.”

I nod. “Okay.”

He whispers, “I raqo vai,” and I whisper, “I raqo vai,” because yes, I do love him.

We climb into bed, and he wraps his arms around me. He closes his eyes, and soon, his breathing deepens into a steady rhythm. He’s asleep.

Each time I shut my eyes, my heart thuds like a boot dropped on glass.

A shadow shifts across the tent wall. From the corner of my eye, I watch a strange silhouette twist against the canvas.

Trees backlit by the nightstar?

I hear footsteps and sit up in bed. A chill runs through me. I keep my hand on Zephar’s shoulder as my heart beats wildly in my chest. I scan the walls of the tent again. This time, I don’t see shadows. I close my eyes to listen for footfalls. Nothing.

Am I expecting Jadon Wake to break through the tent flaps and declare his love for me?

Has my guilt about betraying Zephar—betraying them both—become a living thing, stalking all hope of peace and pleasure?

I slowly exhale, and I rub my face to snap out of my thoughts. I slip back beneath the quilt, kiss Zephar’s forehead, and whisper, “I’ll never leave you. Never again.”

His sleeping face flushes. The glow comes from my amulet, thrumming with a faint light, vibrating against my fingertips.

What is it?

The flaps of the tent are pushed open.

A snout. Gold eyes. That’s Shari.

I pull on my linen robe, and the wolf and I tiptoe out the back of the tent. I stare up at the dark sky while clutching my amulet. So many questions drift across my mind.

Why can’t I accept Zephar’s love without worrying about Jadon?

Why didn’t Jadon tell me the truth?

Why am I still thinking about him, when he’s firmly in my past?

Why—?

Shari nudges my leg.

“Done?” I ask, smiling down at her.

Fortunately, I don’t have to have any answers now.

She studies me with her jewel-toned eyes.

I kneel before her and stroke her head. My hand slides down her neck and stops at that whine in her chest, same as before. “What’s wrong, lovely?”

She can’t answer me. But my moth pulses with weak light.

Something’s wrong.

While I’m in bed with my love, Danar Rrivae is trudging around the Sea of Devour, scheming to kill me and take Vallendor as his prize. That’s what’s wrong.

I must leave the Sanctum and Gasho, and not for Shelezadd, like Zephar’s planned. I must leave, but this time, I’ll muster the Mera and Eserime with me, ready to fight to protect Vallendor. And I’ll have Zephar and Shari beside me, too. And that’s enough.

It will have to be.