The consecration for Rhyan would be announced in every town. The ceremony would be in a week. There would be a visit to the temple, multiple parades throughout the country, and a habibellum in their Katurium—one with no killing allowed—to celebrate. Sean was sending out messages to every Glemarian in exile, everyone who wished to see Devon’s demise, and would support the transfer of power.
In a week, Rhyan would become His Grace, Arkasva Rhyan Hart, High Lord of Glemaria in open defiance of the Empire.
Tears welled in my eyes. He deserved the title. He deserved all that went with it. The power, the prestige, the ability to decide to make things better for his country. Rhyan could pass progressive laws. Help so many people. As long as we could keep the wrath of the Empire back, he was going to be an amazing Arkasva. Glemaria had no idea just how fucking lucky they were to have him. And with the forces of Glemaria behind him, he would have the power to fully clear his name across Lumeria. And then, we would begin to separate the country from the Empire and the Emperor’s cruel rules, policies, and exploitation. We also wanted to begin to abolish the laws forbidding those tied together by kashonim from falling in love. They were outdated, and a gross form of control. Plus, we’d seen time and time again how natural it was. How good it could be for kashonim partners to love each other. How powerful we’d become together.
And perhaps most importantly at the moment, far fewer innocent people would be killed and turned by akadim. Because Rhyan would guard and protect his people against them. He wasactually going to stop the threat, not encourage it, not use it as a crutch to keep his people afraid and docile. And of course, with what I could do now, with the red shard and my ability to heal, I was going to help. We were going to heal as many people as we could.
But despite how good everything sounded, the coming together of our plans, and the coming celebration of our victory, I was unsettled. My heart hurt just a little, my stomach twisting—and I felt so fucking guilty for it. Kenna had made arrangements for me and Rhyan to stay in his old room. So after hours of meetings and discussions, that’s where I ran off to, needing a moment to myself.
I knew where we stood, Rhyan and I. I knew we loved each other more than anything in this world. We wanted to be together. We weremekarim.There was no doubt about that. There never would be. But duty sometimes made love impossible. Rhyan now had to remain in Glemaria for who knew how long. And now that Arianna had been named Imperator of the South and had willingly annexed Bamaria to Korteria along with Elyria, had allowed the creation of New Korteria, something had to be done. I couldn’t stand back any longer and allow Bamaria to remain occupied, to allow my people to be abused by Ka Kormac. I had to go home. I had to get my country back.
But I didn’t know where that left me and Rhyan.
Jules was the Heir of Ka Azria. Elyria was meant to be hers. And … I’d spoken to Meera in depth. She’d changed since I’d last seen her. After discovering her identity as Cassarya, Goddess of the Blue Ray, and getting to work with the nahashim, away from the intrigue of court politics, she confessed to me that she had no desire to rule. No wish to become Arkasva.
It was up to me.
It had always been me. My dream. My desire. And now, my destiny. I was my mother’s daughter. She’d named my father Arkasva because she knew Arianna couldn’t be trusted, because she’d always planned for the line of power to come to me. The daughter she’d dreamed of, the daughter she knew was Asherah.
It was all I’d ever wanted to do, to fight for. But my heart sank. Gods. How was I going to rule Bamaria—if we got it back—in the South, while Rhyan, my love, was duty-bound to rule in the North? We’d be back on opposite ends of the Empire. Torn apart again. It was for the best for our people. We had to fulfill our duties to them, and we needed the support and backing our positions would offer. Would need them when we took on Morgana and Aemon. But I didn’t know what that looked like. Or how long we might be apart.
I took a long, hot bath, and then discovered some of Rhyan’s extra sleep clothes had been moved in. I changed into them, sitting down at the vanity to brush out my hair and add oil to the ends. Rhyan’s red gryphon soared by the window, wings flapping, his eyes looking in, like he knew. He knew this was his place.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
“Partner,” Rhyan said suddenly. He hadn’t used the door. He’d traveled. His magic truly was back.
I smiled and watched his reflection behind mine in the mirror, my heart leaping. He’d changed into a fresh tunic and soturion uniform hours ago, all of his old weapons and effects restored to him. The only thing that was new—well, in a sense—was his armor. Auriel’s golden armor, and the green shard. His shard.
My breath caught. He looked so handsome and strong and healed. He looked like a king.
And … a God. Not Auriel. But like himself.
I turned in my seat, rising to greet him. He was already crossing the room to close the distance between us, his arms outstretched, ready to hug me. I sank into him, squeezing him tight, holding him as he buried his face against my neck. His eyes were wet with more tears. I ran my hand up his nape, into the soft brown curls that I adored.
He shuddered, and I led him to the bed, sitting down on the edge, my arms tight around him.
“You’re okay,” I whispered. “It’s all right now.” I let out a shaky laugh. “Everything’s okay.” Somehow. Miraculously.
“I just—I think, I’m grieving,” he said. “I’m grieving. I feel like … not exactly like I did when my mother died, when he—You know. But the pain, it feels similar. Heavy. It hurts.”
“You did the right thing. You know it had to be done.”
“I know,” he said, his gaze distant. His throat bobbed. “He deserved it. He deserved fucking worse. If I could kill him again, I would.” His voice broke. “So why am I crying for him?”
My heart hurt, wanting to take his pain, and I squeezed his hand. “Maybe … maybe it’s because you’re a good person. With a big heart, and soul. Maybe,” I bit my lip. “Maybe who you’re really crying for is you. Because you deserved a father who was better, who loved you, who was kind.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Maybe this isn’t grief for him—it’s okay if it is—even if he doesn’t deserve it. Maybe it’s grief for the father you should have had. The life that should have been yours, that I wish for you now. One that’s safe and happy with joy. And love.”
I wiped the tears from his eyes and he cupped my jaw, pressing his lips to mine.
“I love you,” he said, his voice shaking still.
“I love you.”
I held him then, letting him cry.
When he seemed to calm, he sat back, his emerald eyes blazing as they stared into mine.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said. “I don’t want to grieve for the life I didn’t have. Or the life I wanted.”
