“I didn’t leave the horse to help you win,” he says, finally making an attempt that resembles an explanation. “You were close to the village. That Izadeonian man who foolishly abandoned you in a monster-infested cottage had already found the path to the village and was on his way back to take you. You would have made it back eventually, even without the horse I left. I only left it to give you more time to rest and save you the effort of hiking down to the village. As I said, you looked tired.”
He says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if leaving a horse for stranded competitors is just another afternoon activity. As if caring whether I was tired, whether I was safe, is the most natural thing in the world for him. And that, that infuriating calmness, it’s driving me insane.
“Why do you even care?” I spit, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “What difference does it make if I spend two more hours sleeping or hiking or not? What is it to you?”
Again, he only blinks and simply says, “You looked afraid.”
I barely register his words at first. But then… Darian mentioned seeing something outside the window that night when I was glued to his chest. Could that have been Zanyar? Had he witnessed my complete meltdown? The thought makes my stomach churn, and my cheeks burn with embarrassment. The idea of Zanyar, the stoic, aloof sorcerer, witnessing my moment of weakness is mortifying. But hot on the heels of embarrassment comes a wave of indignation. And I let it pour out.
“Why even bother tracking us?” My voice is shaking with anger. “Why come after me at all when you clearly asked me to abandon these trials?”
“I’m here to ensure the safety ofallthe Ahiras. Did you expect me to return to Jahanwatch knowing an Ahira was stranded in those monster-infested mountains?” he states calmly as if explaining basic arithmetic to a toddler.
“I don’t need your help,” I retort, crossing my arms defiantly. “You’ve seldom offered it before, so why start now?”
“I’m the leader of our fellowship. It’s my responsibility to ensure everyone returns safely back to Firelands. Including you.”
Return safely? Gods, even now, he still thinks I will lose and return!
“Well, I don’t want to return safely. I’d rather die in these trials,” I almost yell. “So next time, do us both a favor and leave me to the wolves.”
That, apparently, crosses some invisible line. He advances with a slow, predatory movement that forces my instinctive retreat, step by reluctant step, until my back hits the cold, hard reality of a bookshelf. His expression is deceptively calm as he closes the distance, but I sense the tightly leashed tension under that placid mask. His lethal grace as he strides forward, so beautiful and dangerous, only amplifies his dominance as he steps into my space, eclipsing everything else.
He leans in with a silent, deliberate invasion, until he’s only a breath away. The heat radiating from his body makes my skin prickle, and his gaze, those emerald eyes, burns with green fire. That heat, that familiar response I always have around him, flares to life. I crush it down.It’s anger.Must be anger. Not any other… feeling. My whole body trembles with a potent blend of anger, annoyance, nervousness, and whatever this volatile air is that hums between us as our eyes lock in a silent battle.
“Is that how you thank someone for their help?” His voice is a low, dangerous murmur, a thread of steel woven through silk.
And suddenly, we’re not in the library anymore. We’re back in that darkness beneath the arena. His presence is overwhelming, like a weight that pushes the air out of my lungs. But I won’t cower, just like I didn’t in the arena.
“Why should I be showering you with gratitude?” I say, and I’m surprised to find my voice is a breathy whisper. I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on and forcing more strength into my words. “You said we would have made it back anyway. Would you have left that horse if you knew we would lose the trials without it?”
“No,” he admits, short and curt, with nothing but ice in his eyes.
That single word is a spark to dry tinder. He stands there, utterly uncaring of the blatant hypocrisy of claiming to value me so much that he hikes across mountains to save me a hike, that he wants me in Aramis while dismissing myactualwishes and dreams.
My blood roars and my fists clench so tightly that my nails bite into my palms. For the first time, violence feels like a viable option. But I am better than this, better than him. I’m done with this twisted game. With the heat, he ignites in me. And with the fury he provokes in me. He makes me irrational, makes me lose control, makes me feel… hot, uncomfortable.
I take a deep, steadying breath before taking a side step in a calculated attempt at a graceful escape. But Zanyar’s hand shoots out, and his fingers wrap around my arm, not painful, but inescapable. I meet his eyes, refusing to yield or show fear.
“What?” I snap. “I do not have any more questions. Thank you for your gracious answers, as always.”
He takes a deep breath, and I notice a muscle twitching in his jaw. “Why are you angry?” His voice is softer this time as if he genuinely doesn’t understand why I would be angry, which, of course, makes me even angrier.
“Because you’re infuriating! I begged you for help in the alchemy room and again during the second trial, and you refused. You looked me in theeye and turned away. And then, then, you trek through a raging storm to rescue me and claim it was just to spare me a walk? First, you say you won’t help me, then when you do, it is not to help mewin. You don’t care about whatIwant. Just like every other Ahira.” I take a ragged breath, my chest heaving. “Nobody in Firelands cares about anything other than whattheywant! If you truly cared about me and valued me, you would have helped me with what I asked you earnestly. You would have listened to whatIwant.”
I am fuming. My anger is a raging inferno. And honestly, I don’t even know why at this point. He hasn’t done anything wrong if I am being honest. He’s been truthful about his intentions, and he risked his neck to find me in that storm. I don’t even know how long he’d been waiting for us outside of the cottage in the pouring rain until Darian left so he could leave the horse behind.
But I haven’t asked for any of that. I don’t want grand gestures or heroic rescues. And the fact that I now owe him a debt makes me even angrier at him.
“I told you, Arien,” Zanyar responds calmly as if realizing that the only way to deal with my outburst is for him to be the epitome of serenity. “I don’t believe what you want is in your best interest.”
“And who are you to decide that for me?” I yell at him.
“I’m not deciding anything for you! I’m only making decisions aboutmy ownactions according to that belief. Not yours.”
Damn it. He is right. And that, of course, makes me even angrier. I yank my arm, desperate to escape this infuriating conversation, but his grip is firm.
“Arien… ” His voice is softer than his grasp. And for the first time, it sounds like a plea. I don’t know what he is pleading for, but it somehow calms the storm raging in me—slightly. I take a few deep breaths, and my voice finally regains some composure.
