Day 22 of the War

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“I think you have to go to lunch today, Miss,” Kaya said, shaking her shoulders. “Let’s get you in the bath and brush out your hair… You’ll feel as good as new.”

Ayla peeled herself from the sheets and allowed her maids to pull her into the bathroom. They washed her with gentle hands and combed out her tangles with care.

“Are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Bahra asked, helping her into silver training pants.

Ayla sighed, watching Bahra’s aged fingers tie the pants at her navel. Kaya slipped Ayla’s arms through the velvet shirt and slid it over her head and down to her waist. She didn’t want to tell them because it’d make them worry. She also didn’t want to tell them because they’d tell her everything was fine. Everything wasn’t fine.

“We’re here for you…” Isla said, drying Ayla’s hear with magic-heated hands. “We can tell something’s bothering you and we’re afraid—”

Kaya slapped her hands, reprimanding her with a sharp shush. “We’re concerned, that’s all. We know you’ll do well tomorrow. We’ve been cheering you on this whole time.” Kaya tied a black belt around Ayla’s waist and tucked the end between the folds. “We have faith in you.”

“Thank you…” Ayla whispered. Heat rushed to her face and pressure swelled behind her eyes. “I just feel a little alone.” She wiped a stray tear with her sleeve and glanced up to the ceiling, the sun glowing orange against the ice.

“You are alone,” Bahra said, weaving her fingers together at her waist. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

Ayla nodded, catching another tear as Kaya lifted a silvery cape to her shoulders and tied it in the front.

“You’re strong, Miss,” Isla said, voice soft. “You’re the strongest person I know.” Her hands sifted through her hair, drying the ends.

Bahra smiled, wrinkles on her face deepening with wisdom. “Just like her father.”

Ayla released a shaky breath. Her dad had probably felt like this, too. She remembered his tired face in the memory Nanna showed her. What would her dad tell her to do right now? He’d probably say boys were stupid and she didn’t need them—all she had to do was focus on herself. He’d say he didn’t want to see her in Irkalla.

“This is a War,” Bahra said, her voice weathered. She swept some hair out of Ayla’s face. “Miss Ayla, are you ready for it?”

She closed her eyes. “How can I be?” Her skin tingled and tightened

“There’s no turning back,” Bahra said. “Just live and you will be fine.”

Ayla’s shoulders sunk and she curled her lips into her mouth, licking her tongue along their chapped surface. “Probably time for me to go. Thank you.”

“We’ll be serving you dinner tonight,” Kaya said, voice shaky. She sniffed. “But we’re not allowed to see you tomorrow at all. We’ll set out your clothes for you and get everything ready for you…”

Ayla nodded. “Thank you. You’ve all been very wonderful.” She smiled at the three of them. “I’m glad I met you.”

Isla wiped her face of tears and nodded, holding her hands to her chest. Ayla left them in the bathroom, grabbing her scythe on her way out. Zalyn had taken a seat on the other side of the table and all she could think about was so much for best friends.

Fire licked at her insides like an inferno. Her magic lifted from her skin, but she released a long sigh and reeled it back in by tightening her grip on her scythe. She didn’t need the therians to see it and think she was weak.

“Glad to see you, Ayla,” Ohorshina said from the front of the room, her back facing the blizzard outside.

“Thank you,” Ayla said. Her heart rose into her throat and a dark heat washed over her face. “I appreciate it.”

Ohorshina smiled as the servants swept into the room with a small feast for lunch. Arden, Anja, and Vejen laughed with each other across the room as they ate. Loran sat eight places away from them, isolated, with a sour look on his face.

He had no right to look so unhappy. He should be joking around with the other therians like a bunch of monkeys, scratching each other’s backs and eating lice from each other’s hair. Zalyn deserved nothing better. He was as much of an animal as they were.

Disgusting. Why did she have to sit here and pretend to be hungry? Why didn’t anyone notice Sabro’s empty seat? Ridiculous. It was like some kind of dream with a bent reality, a warped sense of surreality. Entirely, completely fake. Everyone was oblivious.

Ayla lifted her scythe from her lap and stood, storming to the door and pulling the heavy door open with a single hand.

“Ayla?” Ohorshina called her. “Where…?”

The door slammed behind her. She didn’t want to be in there with them. She hated seeing fifteen empty spaces at the table, especially the one she wanted Ashor to be sitting in. They didn’t just disappear! They’d died and not one person even cared! How could no one see what was going on—how their lives were simply sacrificial?

Her blood boiled, seething against her cold magic. A hand grabbed her wrist as the dining room doors thudded shut and pulled her back, tugging her up the stairs and to the infirmary down the hall to the right. She stared at Loran’s back, his tight shoulders, with narrowed eyes.

“Let go,” she said, her voice determined. “You don’t want to speak to me.”

He stiffened but didn’t spare her a glance. He ripped open the door and yanked her inside before he gripped her upper arms and pressed her against the door. It clicked shut against her back.

“Your kiss last night was good enough for me,” she hissed. “No need to pull me aside for another dose.”

He banged his fist against the door. “Forget I said that. Forget everything. I’m sorry.” He pressed his body against her. “I didn’t mean it, I promise.” He held her tight, the warmth of his skin seeping into her.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t handle this. “You—you can’t just take it back. You did what you did. You said what you said. You can’t just say you’re sorry and think everything’ll be fine!” Her heart shuddered against the feeling of his chest.

“I know,” he whispered. “Gods, I know. I—” He pulled away, clenching his jaw for a moment before he raked a hand through his hair. He released a sigh and rested his forehead on her shoulder. “I love you more than you can imagine. All I want to do is be with you. You have no idea.”

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“Then why’re you treating me like this?” she whispered, pain digging between the bones of her ribcage. “If you loved me—”

“—I’d want the best for you,” he said. “And I’m not the best for you.”

Her chest constricted as she sucked in a shaking breath, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “But I know what’s best for me. It’s you.”

He shook his head and groaned, holding her as if he was scared he’d lose her. “If we were just normal… if we didn’t have to be in this war, it could’ve been different. We could’ve been together.” Tears dropped onto her neck and ran between her collarbones. He trembled against her. “But we’re not.”

She wrapped her arms around his head and held him close. “Why does that matter to you?” She kissed the top of his head. “I don’t care.”

“I wish you would.”

“Why?” she asked, shaking her head. “Who cares what we are?”

He pulled away from her, but kept his arms around her. “It matters.” His eyes looked dark like ocean water. “You shouldn’t be with me. Zalyn would be bett—”

“—You are perfect for me!”

He frowned, his straight eyebrows pulling together. “I wish I was. You have to realize the reality of our situation. Even in Ekarkara, therians and mageians aren’t ever together.”

“Then we’ll be the first.”

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Why do you say things like that?” he whispered. “Can’t you think for a single moment?” He set his eyes back on her, their color brightening. “If everything works out, you should stay in Esagila. Don’t make the same mistake your father did. Keep safe and guarded.”

“There’s no insurance that Zalyn w-…” —she swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat — “will make it out alive. I’m not going to stay in Esagila. My father left for a reason. It wasn’t a mistake…”

“Why can’t you ever listen to me?” he asked, voice rough.

She clenched her teeth, pushing his arms away from her. “Because you are not always right. You don’t know what’s good for me. If you loved me, none of this would matter.”

“It’s because I love you that it matters!”

“Just remember what we promised each other,” she growled.

His face fell and his mouth parted. She turned away, yanked the door open, and left him standing there. It was the only thing she could do, or she would’ve given in. She couldn’t give in. If she had to be alone, then she would be.

#

Isla, Kaya, and Bahra left with a tearful goodbyes before Ayla had the room to herself. The girls had laid out an outfit for her to wear in the arena tomorrow and left an extra tray of food for breakfast. Ayla collapsed onto her bed with a sigh.

Tomorrow. Least anticipated day of her life. People held their breath for this? She scoffed. She didn’t want to play the gods’ little game. She didn’t want to be a pawn. But she was trapped.

Ayla curled onto her side and hugged a pillow. She’d never let this feeling of emptiness fill her up and dig roots under her skin. It was temporary. When it was all over, everything would be normal again—as normal as things could be without her father.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Without her dad, where would she go? She’d have to stay in Esagila with her uncle. He’d betrayed her. She didn’t want to see him ever again. She could try to live in Ekarkara, in the house her family used to live in, but what would it be like living alone? What would it be like living across from Loran, especially if… if…

A heavy knock interrupted her. “Ayla.”

She froze. Zalyn.

He knocked again. “Ayla, please. I have to talk to you.”

She wanted to do what he did to her yesterday, but she slid off her bed and crossed the floor to the door, opening it with a slow tug. “About what?”

“You,” he said, his face shadowed in the staircase. His fingers caressed the skin of her wrist. A flush moved over her body—he’d never shown her respect before. Why now?

He took her hand with both of his and brushed her sleeve up her arm. His eyes flickered away from hers to the scar on her wrist as he turned her arm over with a gentle touch. He brought it up to his lips, bending over as his eyes closed. His lips singed her skin, leaving it tingling as he drew away.

His magic pressed into her as if fire raced across her skin, but her magic worked against it. His eyes glowed copper under his furrowed eyebrows as he stepped into her room. “I can’t ignore you anymore. It hurts.”

Her ribs clenched around her heart like a cage of thorns. “And I’m supposed to believe someone who’s been refusing to talk to me?”

“I—”

“The door’s still open.” She turned away from him and headed back to her bed, but strong arms stopped her as they snaked around her waist.

Zalyn’s body pushed against hers. A thin breath escaped from her lips as his hands pulled her against his body. She felt his hard muscles against her back as he leaned over her. His fingers pressed into her ribs and into her hip. Her magic lifted from her skin, the frigid air fighting against the trail of his scorching magic moving over her body.

“I’m sorry.” His breath ticked her ear. His lips fell to her shoulder as he tightened his hold around her, molding into her body. He smelled like fresh spring roses and ground cinnamon.

Her body went rigid in his arms, her heart sitting on the back of her tongue. For a moment, she could only concentrate on the feeling of his hands on her, his strong arms embracing her, his warm breath against her cheek.

“…Sorry isn’t enough for me.” If she couldn’t forgive Loran, she couldn’t forgive Zalyn. She set her hands on his and let her magic seep into his skin. “Let go, Zalyn…”

His grip loosened and he let out a forceful breath. “I ignored you because I thought I could just throw my feelings away.” He shook his head, the sound of his swallow against her ear. “I can’t lose this War, but I can’t lose you, either.”

Ayla pulled out of his grasp, tossed his hands away, and turned to him. Her breath fell out of her like a fumbling child. “You just want to win and you just want to use me. You made a deal with her, too.” She couldn’t forget what he fought for, the exact opposite of what she believed in.

His eyebrows furrowed together on his forehead, his lips pulling down into a frown. “The deal doesn’t matter to me anymore.” He shook his head, taking a step closer. He cupped the side of her face. “You matter to me. I can’t lose you. I can’t. ” His thumb brushed across her heated skin. “Work with me, please. We’ll—”

“I’m not letting you kill Loran.” She stared into his eyes, feeling a prickle under her eyelids. She swallowed hard, letting out a shuddering breath.

“Ayla,” he said, drawing out her name. His face lowered to hers. “Please, just tie with me. We don’t have to kill him. I won’t kill him.” Zalyn set his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. “We can win together and go back to Esagila—”

She clenched her fists and pushed one into his chest. “Stop.” She bit her tongue against the pressure building in her throat and behind her eyes. Why did her skin tingle with his touch? Why did she feel herself wavering?

He brought his other hand to her cheek. “I’m in love with you.”

She pushed against him again. Love? Her eyes stung as they watered. She didn’t want to hear that. She didn’t want Loran to be right. “You just think I’m pretty,” she whispered in a harsh tone. He couldn’t love her.

His face fell, the tightness disappearing in a moment. His eyes widened, the color fading to a brown. His skin cooled against hers. “You're more than just beauty to me.”

She felt him shake. Small tremors rattled his moistened lips. Her eyes burned as a tear rolled down her cheek, onto his thumb. His eyes searched her face as he brushed it away. He leaned closer until his nose touched hers. His breath caressed her lips.

“P…please don’t…” she whispered, blinking back her tears against slick eyelids. Her voice quivered as she stared his desire in the eyes. It didn’t sound like she meant it. She wasn’t sure if she did.

He pulled her face toward his. She waited for the feeling of his lips and the taste of cinnamon lingering in the air. His magic enveloped them like a rekindled fire as he kissed her. Their lips melded together and she put her hands into the crook of his elbows.

He kissed each corner of her mouth with delicacy as he said, “I can’t live without you, Ayla.” His husky tone sent shivers down her spine. “I won’t. I will not live without you.”

She couldn’t tell him she didn’t love him—couldn’t tell him she was in love with Loran. She couldn’t give him an answer that wouldn’t hurt him.

And she didn’t want to hurt him.

“You hate me,” she said. Her words stung in her own ears, just like they had when her uncle had told her the same thing about Zalyn. “You hate me just like your dad hated my parents. We can’t be together.” Her voice started to shake as she pushed through another sob. “It wouldn’t work and you know it. Just leave.”

His grip tightened on her arms, his head falling like dead weight. “I could never hate you.” He looked up to her again, his eyes a dull red. “Never.”

She swallowed, looking to the ceiling as another tear took a chance down her cheek. “Leave,” she repeated, her voice louder and clearer. It pierced into her heart.

“I’ll wait for you in the morning.” He leaned forward again, pressing his soft lips to her forehead. A thrill shot through her at the brief contact.

She cursed at herself.

He released her, ripped through the door, and pounded down the stairs. Ayla shut the door and then pressed her back against the ice, sliding down to the floor. She could not want tomorrow to come any less.