“You don’t have to,” I said softly. “Everything is getting better. Your father is gone. Glemaria is free. You’re here, you’re alive. Dario and Aiden love you. Sean is free to come back home. We found our shards. And … Gods. Rhyan, you’re Arkasva. You’re High Lord.”
His jaw tightened and he looked away. His aura flaring.
“What is it?” I asked.
He turned back to me. “You. Your place is in Bamaria. It always was.”
My stomach dropped. “I know.” The backs of my eyes burned, my stomach roiled. Here it was. The thing that would separate us. I was going to be sick.
Rhyan slid off the bed, and got down on one knee. He took my hands in his, and stared up.
“Your place is in Bamaria,” he said again. “And so is mine.”
“What?” I nearly choked out the word.
He shook his head, his eyes alight as if the very shard of his Valalumir were behind them. I sank onto the floor with him, straddling his lap, our arms around each other.
“Lyr, Lyriana, my love,Mekara,all this time, since you saved me, I’ve been afraid. I was afraid of myself. Of what I had become. Of being akadim and how that was affecting me.” His throat worked, his hands squeezing mine.
“I burst into tears when the soturi named me Arkasva. Because I didn’t think I deserved it. But also because … it was what my father was. Arkasva and Imperator. I told myself I didn’t want the title because I was terrified that I might be like him. That in the way being akadim might change me, that he had, too. But that wasn’t it at all.” He smiled, pushing my hair off my shoulders.
“Lyr, I wasn’t afraid of being Arkasva. Not at all. I just didn’t want to be. Before I left here, before I was forsworn, I asked Kenna to run away with me. I wanted to get out of here. I needed to be saved. I wanted to save her, too.” I nodded, remembering he’d told me about that.
“She refused. Her place was here. It was always here.” He shook his head. “But that’s not true for me.” One brow furrowed. “I love Glemaria with all my heart. Gods, I love my country and its people. I love the land, the trees, the cold, the gryphons. I want nothing but the best for it, for everyone—even the assholes.”
I laughed.
“So, I talked to Kenna, and the Council. She was the one leading the rebellion all these years, working to remove my father, communicating with the rebel groups, and sending messages to Sean. She’s the one who was prepared to lead.” His eyes blazed, his aura finally calming down. “And so she will. Kenna’s going to be Arkasva, High Lady of Glemaria.”
I gasped. “What? Rhyan, are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life, except when it comes to how deeply I love you. The truth is, I like being Arkturion. I like protecting others, fighting against evil. I want to keep doing that. And I want to do it at your side. I have to be at your side. Because, my place, my soul, and my home,” he placed his hand over my heart, “it all lies with you.”
“You mean it?”
He placed his other hand over his heart. “Me sha, me ka.”
My lips found his, and his hands slid under my ass, lifting me against him, as he stood and laid me on the bed.
I stretched out beneath him, welcoming him between my legs. Welcoming him home.
“There’s just two more things,” he said, kissing my neck, his hands moving to pull up my shirt, as I started to unbuckle hisbelt, and shove his weapons aside. “Two humble requests on my part.”
“Name them,” I said, my top off. I reached for the clasps of his armor.
“When I died—” he stilled, “Sorry, it still gets me.” I caressed his cheek.
“It severed the kashonim between us.”
I blinked. “It did?”
He took my hand in his and turned my wrist up, pulling it to his lips. He kissed it softly. “You didn’t notice?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Our scar from the oath ceremony is gone.” He showed me his arm. And he was right—the scars had vanished. It was the first time since the night we’d sworn in the temple that we’d acknowledged them. It had been unspoken between us, a symbol of the fact that we couldn’t be together. I was glad to be rid of it.
“I want to bind myself to you again. On my terms,” Rhyan said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Some nights when I couldn’t sleep, I read Auriel’s—my—Valya. Kashonim worked differently before the writings were lost. It wasn’t forbidden. Or illegal to love. And it didn’t drain the other’s power. It was something that was shared and flowed freely back and forth between partners. It expanded strength, it didn’t diminish. Of course, the Empire changed that. But, the Valya has the ceremony inside. A way to join us, freely, to make us stronger. Together. Will you do that with me? Will you be my kashonim?”
