We had reached the steps of Aerius's temple, its columns rising like prayers toward heaven. I handed over the scrolls with hands that trembled only slightly, grateful for the excuse to end this mortifying conversation.
"Thank you for the company," I managed.
"The pleasure was mine." Ander paused on the threshold, amber eyes studying my face with what might have been pity. "Sometimes the greatest courage is found in accepting what we cannot change, and changing what we cannot accept."
With that cryptic observation, he disappeared into the temple's cool shadows, leaving me alone with my churning thoughts.
I stood there for a long moment, watching pilgrims come and go in their flowing robes, all of them at peace in ways I could barely comprehend. Ander's offer echoed in my mind - the suggestion that I might find comfort in another's arms, might ease the terrible longing that consumed me with every breath.
But the idea felt wrong, hollow as a cracked bell. I could imagine lying with someone like Ander, losing myself in meaningless pleasure for a few hours, but it would solve nothing. The ache in my chest wasn't merely physical desire that could be sated by any willing body.
If it couldn't be Serin, it wouldn't be anyone.
The realization settled over me like my worn armor, familiar, protective, and impossibly heavy. I was bound to him by chains stronger than steel, forged in the fire of eight years' devotion and many more years of barracks on the Three Isles. Even if he found what he was looking for on this island of wonders, even if he chose to stay forever in paradise, I would remain what I had always been.
His devoted protector. His heart's guardian, even if he never knew the cost of that guardianship.
I turned away from the temple and began the long walk back to chambers that felt more like a cage with every passing hour, carrying my secret love like a wound that would never heal.
Chapter
Six
SERIN
Three days of Eletherian hospitality had worked wonders on both body and spirit. Gone was the bone-deep weariness that had clung to me like sea salt during our voyage, replaced by the luxurious contentment that came from soft mattresses, abundant food, and walls that didn't sway with ocean swells. My skin had lost its pallor from confinement belowdecks, warmed to gold by afternoon sunlight streaming through windows that opened onto paradise itself.
Even my thoughts felt clearer, no longer fogged by the constant anxiety that had plagued me since fleeing home. Here, surrounded by beauty that asked nothing of me save appreciation, I could almost forget the iron crown that waited across dark waters.
Almost.
Priest Myris met us at the entrance to Elyon's temple as the morning sun painted everything in shades of honey and cream. He wore robes of palest blue that flowed around his lean frame like captured sky, and his smile held genuine warmth rather than the calculating courtesy I'd grown accustomed to at court.
"Your Highness, Master Rhazir," he greeted us with equal grace, as if a prince and his bodyguard deserved identical respect. "I trust your chambers have proven adequate?"
"More than adequate," I assured him, following as he led us deeper into the temple's cool embrace. "They surpass anything I might have hoped for."
The interior revealed itself in stages, corridors lined with frescoes that told stories of divine love, chambers where priests in training bent over scrolls of ancient wisdom, gardens where meditation pools reflected sky and stone in perfect symmetry. Everything spoke of reverence, but reverence infused with joy rather than the grim duty I'd known in temples back home.
"You asked about our customs regarding bonds," Myris said as we walked, his voice carrying the cadence of someone accustomed to teaching. "Elyon's order believes that love itself builds bridges between the mortal and divine realms. Each bond that forms, each connection that deepens between souls, creates another stone in the foundation thatmight one day span the gulf between earth and heaven."
I felt my pulse quicken at his words, though whether from interest or something deeper, I couldn't say. "And the other orders? Do they share this belief?"
"Ah, that's where it grows complex." His smile held notes of gentle amusement. "Aerius's scholars long maintained that bonds were merely tools for academic advancement, ways to focus the mind and channel energy toward higher learning. But even they have begun to acknowledge, particularly after a recent bond of remarkable intensity, that there may be forces at work beyond simple intellectual partnership."
We paused before a statue of Elyon himself, the god's marble features carved with such skill they seemed almost alive. Sunlight from the clerestory windows made shadows dance across his face, creating the illusion of breath, of thought, of divine awareness focused on mortal concerns.
"And the militants?" I found myself asking, though I wasn't certain why their opinion should matter.
"The soldiers of our order?" Myris's expression grew thoughtful. "They've always viewed bonds as exercises in emotional discipline, methods of learning to master one's feelings rather than be mastered by them. They accept the practice, butwith... reluctance. They fear that too much emphasis on love might weaken resolve when hard choices must be made."
Something in his tone suggested he disagreed with this assessment, though he was too diplomatic to say so directly.
"The truth," he continued, "is that bonding is a tremendous emotional undertaking. When partners complement each other well, the results can be transformative, a joining that elevates both beyond what either might achieve alone. But when the match is poor..." He shook his head sadly. "The cost can be devastating. We've seen bonds that broke their participants rather than completing them."
His words stirred something deep in my chest, a recognition I couldn't quite name. The Three Isles had their own traditions of bonding, though nothing like what Myris described. Our bonds were forged in battle - soldiers who fought as paired units, nobles and their sworn swords who shared the brotherhood of blade and blood. Practical partnerships born of necessity rather than...
A pulse of something, awareness, recognition, longing, thrummed through the air like a plucked harp string. Before I could question the sensation, I found myself turning toward Rhazir. He was already looking at me, his dark eyes unguarded for just a heartbeat before he caught himself and resumed the neutral mask of professional vigilance.
