Page 62 of The Last Guardian

After my lesson with Arystan yesterday, I had found my way back to the ship, as apparently no tent was available to accommodate me at the camp; in truth, I was much better off in my quarters. My thoughts had swirled all night as I read the summary more than ten times, bringing on a persistent headache.

Still, even with what Arystan had told me yesterday, I couldn’t let my guard down with the commander yet. Even if he had saved me from the sort-of wolf, not once had he answered my question about the mark still etched on my skin. I was not going to trust him with a rite that was supposed to be a sacred one if he was not trustworthy with me.

After a dozen minutes turning at every intersection, I finally found Zaidkiel waiting in front of a large tent, breathing in the soft air. His eyes met mine in an instant.

The mere sight of him—in dark attire, a few locks falling over his green eyes—sent a shiver down my spine. With a hard swallow bubbling in my throat, I walked to meet him at a restrained pace.

“Morning, Princess.” Zaidkiel smiled, looking down at me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, already annoyed. “We need to talk.”

Tilting his head, Zaidkiel’s lips curled. “Do we, now?” With a chuckle, he opened the flap behind me, inviting me to enter.

Passing him in haste, I entered the open space before me. My gaze drifted over the living area, where two green couches surrounded a coffee table. A gigantic bed stood at the back of the tent, and a wooden table and chairs occupied the center.

Time slowed as my attention moved around the tent, following the soft glow of lanterns against the canvas walls. Near the entrance stood a row of shelves lined with worn books, a few sheathed swords, and strips of black leather.

It was simpler than I’d expected for a commander’s personal space—yet similar to his quarters back on the ship. No unnecessary luxuries, just function and practicality. Then again, he’d been a commander in Perygan, but here, in his homeland, I was completely ignorant of who he truly was.

His eyes fell on me for a moment, followed by a clenched jaw as he walked in the direction of one of the chairs. Zaidkiel nodded his head, inviting me to sit in front of him. I crossed the room slowly and sank onto one of the couches, the green cushions easing the movement.

His arms crossed. The cocky bastard arched a brow and waited. For what seemed like an eternity in the Seven Hells, Zaidkiel and I stared at each other, sizing the other up as if we were each other’s greatest prey. Neither of us spoke.

When the silence became unbearable, I said, “You knew, didn’t you?” I arched my brow at him, trying to control my anger. “From the moment you offered your help, you knew about the Rite.”

A silence fell between us, leaving unspoken words hanging in the air like a warning. The urge to finally smash him in the face overwhelmed me.

“I needed confirmation that it was, in fact, the only solution,” Zaidkiel replied with a shrug.

“Apparently, other solutions are available⁠—”

Zaidkiel clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Well, other possibilities probably include a certain High Mage from whom you tried to escape…”

“You’re a real asshole!” I interrupted him mid-sentence, getting up with my hands on my hips. His gaze followed my movements, a smug smile spreading across his lips.

“Some people might call me considerate about your feelings. But sure, we can go with yours.” Zaidkiel smirked, pushing himself from the chair.

The sound of his boots echoed on the ground as he took slow, deliberate steps. Dark locks fell before his green eyes as he approached me.

My blood boiled, my heart pounding in cacophony. Every part of my body contracted. A wave of heat engulfed me.

“So considerate of you to ignore me for days without answering any of my questions!” I snapped, my fists curled at my sides.

Zaidkiel put his hands behind his back and leaned in closely. So close, the warmth of his breath brushed my skin as he said, “I’m here now, aren’t I? By all means, ask away.”

The words didn’t need to be processed as my tongue moved on its own. “If you want my help for the quest, and my trust for the Rite, I need the truth.” My eyes sharpened, glaring. “Why did a mark similar to your tattoo appear on my wrist?”

Zaidkiel stayed silent for a few moments. A hard emotion passed through his eyes as his gaze fell on his tattoo for a split moment. Sorrow? Anger? I couldn’t tell. In a soft whisper, almost inaudible, he finally said, “Thre R’eva.”

I stared at him with a blank look, lifting my eyebrows. “Excuse me?” I said, barely hiding my frustration.

“Thre R’eva,” Zaidkiel said.

“Terrva?” I tried to repeat it, but the word clicked on my tongue.

Zaidkiel bit his cheeks, trying his best not to laugh at my attempt to say the strange word, amusement crossing his face.

“Don’t laugh at me, you jerk!” I snorted, punching him in the shoulder. Of course, Zaidkiel didn’t budge. My blow elicited no reaction from him. But the impact of his hard muscle against my fist burned my skin.