Chapter Thirty

The future king of Oryndhr’s face is beautiful in repose. His hair has been trimmed, his body washed and groomed, and he’s clothed in rich garments. I wonder wryly if his inner circle thinks he’s going to wake up and want to have a coronation ball straightaway. The Imperial House certainly has a skewed idea of celebration.

I glance around—the chamber is full of advisers and specialists, as well as the aldermen of the four houses—all sworn to secrecy, of course, and there’s no chance that anyone’s going to listen to me about getting a minute alone with him. The Imperial House is not going to let the future of Oryndhr out of their collective sight, not while he’s still breathing. If he dies, there’ll be anarchy in the non-blooded succession of a new monarch. The houses will be at war.

My gaze coasts over a familiar face. Helena, one of the chosen from the arena. That seems like a lifetime ago. Her haughty, icy gaze meets mine, hostility burning in her eyes. Clearly, she hasn’t gotten over her issues where I’m concerned, but that’s on her, not me. I can’t believe she’s still here, but her father is the alderman of Regulus. It makes sense that she’d be at court. A few women from the contest surround her, all watching me with varying degrees of envy and enmity.

Wonderful.

Save the realm and people are still out to skewer me.

The runes on my forearms heat beneath my gloves, and I calm them with a thought. No sense in causing a fiery ruckus in a palace that’s just been rebuilt. And besides, using my starlight gifts to prove a point isn’t exactly nice baby goddess behavior.

But damn, would it be satisfying.

“Lady Suraya,”

a man’s voice says, making me jump. I turn to see the royal viceroy. I’d remembered him as being friendly, and sure enough, his smile is wide and genuine. “It is wonderful to see you again. A pity that it is under such somber circumstances.”

“Thank you,”

I say. “What is the prince’s condition? Any change?”

“None.”

I lean close. “Is there any way I can have a few moments alone with him?”

For a moment, I think he’s going to refuse as he stares at me in silence, and then he lowers his voice, drawing me aside. “My father was Elonian. He served the alderman of the House of Fomalhaut for many years—Queen Morvarid’s father.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

I ask, a shiver running through me. I’ve had enough of Elonian intrigues to last a lifetime.

“Because there are those of us who know what truly happened here.”

He bows and presses a kiss to the back of my hand. “We are in your debt, Starkeeper. All of Oryndhr is in your debt.”

I suppose it’s to be expected that those who believe in the old gods will suspect what truly happened, even if the news outlets proclaim otherwise. And I can’t pretend that I’m not who I am, either. Inclining my head, I accept his quiet sentiments.

“When did you get here?”

someone shouts, and before I can process the voice, I’m pulled into a bear hug. The viceroy melts into the crowd, and I focus my attention on the newcomer. Or newcomers, as I see Clem over his shoulder as well. She’s dressed in royal armor, likely now one of Roshan’s future kingsguard.

“Aran!”

I clasp him back just as tightly. I had to forgive what they’d done to release my anger in that temple, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t still hurt. They say that forgiveness releases the forgiver, and that’s true, but no one ever tells you that the sting of betrayal doesn’t just vanish. Forgiveness takes work. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. You, too, Clem.”

I see the instant relief brighten her face, and it warms me. When Aran finally releases me, she sweeps me up so tightly I can barely breathe. “It wasn’t all a lie, you know,”

she says. “I liked you from the start, and even though I was there to ferret out information on Javed and the chosen for the Dahaka, I felt like I had made a friend in a court full of vipers.”

“I know what you mean,”

I confess. “I felt the same.”

She exhales, her regret heavy. “I don’t want to lose that. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Already done.”

I laugh and reach for Aran, pulling him back in with us. “I am happy to see the two of you.”

“Not as happy as we are to see you,”

he says, his face and voice choked with emotion. “After what you did in that room for him . . .”

He breaks off as I stare at him, while Clem moves a discreet distance away. “What do you mean? How do you know what happened?”

“Because I’m the one who found you both.”

His eyes flick to his motionless cousin. “Lying tangled in each other’s arms. He had a heartbeat, while you had none . . .”

He trails off, staring at me as if unable to collect or articulate his thoughts. “I saw what you did.”

“What I did?”

He swallows hard. “I saw you become what you were meant to be. In all my time as a magi, I never knew what it meant to feel the touch of Saru. I felt his light blazing through you when you saved my cousin. Thank you for that.”

A tear trickles down my cheek. “I couldn’t let him die.”

“So, you offered him your life.”

He wipes the tear away, his own eyes damp. “Your magic saved him. It saved you both.”

He laughs aloud, embracing me again. “It has been a true honor, Suraya. You are everything we Elonians ever hoped for—the guardian of Oryndhr.”

I shake my head, stunned by his words. “I didn’t do any of it alone. We did it together.”

“You brought us together.”

I shake my head and glance over my shoulder. No, it was Roshan who had brought them all together. The prince who had fought for his people’s freedom, who had battled tyranny in his own house, who had put everyone else’s lives before his. Even mine . . . and even though he had broken my trust. The ache in my chest intensifies as I stare at the sleeping figure. “Will he wake, Aran?”

Aran turns to meet the eyes of the viceroy, who claps his hands once. Like magic, people melt from the room until we are the only two left, aside from Clem and a small contingent of guards at the entrance. “I hope so. People are praying he will.”

“Do you believe?”

He eyes me. “In the gods?”

“Yes.”

“People choose to believe in something. What’s important is that they have a choice. To believe, not to believe, to be arcanist, to be modern. It’s all the same thing. Good versus evil. Light versus dark. The truth versus the lie. We’re all searching for meaning, Suraya. How we get it isn’t the goal . . . it’s in the journey.”

“I think you’re a very wise man,” I say.

He winks. “Let’s just keep that between us. I’m thinking of cultivating a reputation of being a scoundrel.”

We both chuckle quietly until the moment grows somber and we both stare at our future king, so strong and beautiful in repose. “What do I need to do?”

“You know what to do, Suraya. It’s your magic that burns inside of him. You just have to give him a reason to live.”

“Oryndhr needs him more than ever,” I say.

He cocks his head. “Only Oryndhr?”

“I’m working on it, Aran,”

I admit softly. “Trust takes a lifetime to build and a blink to demolish. I love him, but he shattered my heart.”

Aran’s eyes are full of regret. “He’ll make it up to you, I know he will. Just give him the chance.”

After Aran joins the others, closing the doors behind him and offering me a modicum of privacy, I sit on the edge of the bed and brush my fingers along Roshan’s tanned, clean-shaven jaw. He’s so handsome, it hurts. I remember his quip about being Sleeping Beauty in the temple and waiting for his kiss, and I laugh softly.

“It’s time to wake up, my stubborn prince,”

I murmur, and press a kiss to his soft lips. My palms begin to glow, and I place them directly over his heart. “Time to lead your people and be the ruler you were born to be. Time to become a king.”

A current of powerful magic charges between us, and Roshan’s chest heaves up against my hands. He exhales a sharp, shuddering breath. I can feel the deep, steady throb of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, the bright burst of his soul flaring in response to the call of my starlight. I want to bask in him, to cocoon myself in his warmth. I let the wings of my simurgh brush his living aura, and I almost purr with the pleasure of it. He might not have magic, but he is mine.

Slowly, slowly, I coax him out of his slumber.

Wake up, Roshan.

His eyes flutter open, and that brilliant, glittering topaz-flecked brown gaze focuses on me. For a heart-stopping beat, there’s no recognition in their glossy, vacant depths, his pupils looking like pinpricks of oil, but then his lashes dip and a slow smile breaks over his face. “Sura.”

“Hi.”

“Are we dead?”

I smile. “No.”

“You’re here,”

he murmurs.

“Where else would I be?”

Stiff fingers reach out for mine as if he doesn’t trust his own eyes that I’m here sitting beside him. “You know . . . up there.”

“I was. I came back.”

“You did?”

he asks. “Why?”

“You know why.”

That slow, lopsided smile snatches my breath away. “Because you want to ride me into the sunset?”

I burst into laughter, despite the devastating heat spreading like wildfire all along my insides at his wicked words. “Who would believe the future king of Oryndhr has such a deliciously filthy mouth on him?”

“Not all the time. Only when you’re around.”

He blinks, guilt flashing through his irises. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

“I’m trying. It’s easy to forgive, much harder to forget,”

I say, not wanting to damage our fragile new start with another lie.

“That’s all I can ask for,”

he says earnestly.

Unable to help myself, I drag my fingers along his jaw, and he stalls my hand, drawing it to his mouth. The brief press of his soft lips on the pads of my fingers makes every single nerve in my body go haywire. Attraction was never the problem between us, and I want nothing more than to replace my fingers with my mouth and tongue and kiss him until we’re both senseless. But there are questions that need to be answered, and if we start kissing now, neither of us will stop.

Gently, I pull my hand away. “Roshan, wait. We need to talk. How are you truly feeling?”

Those full lips tighten with disappointment, but he nods. “I feel . . . alive,”

he says, sitting up.

He rolls his neck and shoulders, and for an infinitesimal moment as he turns to face me, a hint of reddish smoke bleeds through his irises. My breath stills. His lashes sweep down and up, and there’s nothing there. I shake my head, wondering if I’m seeing things, but that golden-brown gaze is wide and lucid with no trace of anything else in them but melting candor. I’m being paranoid about nothing. Morvarid is dead. Fero is dead.

Roshan’s solemn stare meets and holds mine. “And lucky to be, I know.”

“You’ll be king now.”

“Javed?”

“Gone. Vogon killed him. Morvarid is dead, too. What exactly do you remember about what happened?”

He frowns, a host of emotions flashing across his face. “I remember most of it. I remember Morvarid’s sword pinning me to the wall. It hurt like hell.”

He rolls his shoulder, one hand pressing to where the wound had been, a furrow notching between his brows. “I knew I was bleeding out and dying.”

“You did die,”

I whisper hoarsely. “Your heart stopped.”

“I felt it. You saved me, Suraya, because there wasn’t any pain anymore. I remember feeling so much darkness creeping through me, and then you came and banished it. I remember thinking you had never looked so bright, and then there was nothing but light. So much dazzling light. It was hot and blinding and vibrant, like I was seeing the real you for the first time.”

His words weave a spell around me, and when he leans in to seal my lips with his, I can only yield to the sweetness of his kiss. “My lovely, infuriating, brilliant star,”

he murmurs against my mouth, his hand curving around my waist. “I felt everything—every beat of your pulse that somehow became the beat of mine. You know how I know this?”

he says, grazing his lips against my jawline to my earlobe.

I can barely get the word out. “How?”

“Because I love you. Even if you don’t love me. Even if I have to prove my love to you over and over again to earn back what I lost.”

The poignancy of the moment nearly kills me. “I do love you, Ro.”

I exhale and push forward. “But as much as I’ve come to care for you, what you did was wrong—keeping something like that from me was devastating.”

He opens his mouth, eyes shining with remorse, and I hold up a hand. “I know you’re sorry, I believe you. But what’s to say you won’t lie to me again to protect me in the future over something that you deem more important than my own choices?”

“I won’t,”

he says fervently.

“Not even to save the realm?” I ask.

His face is grave. “Not even then. I swear it on the maker and any god in existence.”

We stare at each other, his forehead resting against my brow for an eternal moment. I never want to let go.

“Can I please kiss you now?”

he whispers.

Nodding, I barely open my mouth to say yes before his lips crash into mine, the familiar iron, spice, and bergamot scent of him filling my nostrils. His tongue sweeps in to tangle with mine, devouring me as if he can’t get enough . . . as if the whole time he was asleep he was starving for me. The kiss goes on and on, neither of us wanting to release the other, but eventually we pull apart, breathless and panting.

“We should probably tell the realm you’re awake,”

I say. “I shouldn’t be selfish and keep you all to myself.”

“Well, it’s just as well I wish to keep you to myself for a bit longer. And since I’m the all-powerful king, I can do what I want,”

he murmurs, his arms gathering around me, and I’m glad for it. He feels like home.

“If your head gets any bigger, it’ll explode all over us.”

“I can tell you what’s getting fit to explode.”

He points at his lap with a heated smirk, and I gasp at the prominent bulge there, glad to know I’m not the only one whose passions are out of control. “Promises, promises.”

“I’ve only one promise for you.”

Roshan leans close, even though there’s no need to whisper. “When we get to my chambers, I’m going to kiss every inch of you, and then I’ll dine on my favorite dessert until I’m good and satisfied, and then I’m going to make love to you until you can’t walk straight.”

He bites my earlobe, making me gasp, and swirls his tongue over the shell of my ear. “Because the maker only knows how much I’ve missed the taste of you and the feel of you clenching with pleasure around me.”

I go boneless at his wicked words. “I’ll hold you to that. My altar has been bereft.”

“Your altar will be flowing by the time I’m done with you.”

I gulp, core clenching and already well on the way to said goal. Sands, could a girl combust from sheer anticipation?

He grins as though he knows exactly what kind of reaction his words have caused, and with a husky growl, he crashes his mouth to mine. Between whispered words of devotion and deep kisses, Roshan keeps me close, tucked into his side, until the doors break open and the chamber is flooded with a sea of jubilant, reveling people.

“The king is awake! Long live the king. Long live Oryndhr!”

The cheers are thunderous, but I hear none of it. Instead, all I can see is the man sitting before me, and I savor the precious words of love that had fallen from his lips. I know without any doubt that I’m right where I’m supposed to be. We might not be soul-fated, but love, like my father said, is a choice.

And I choose him.