I pressed my face against the pillow where his head had rested, breathing deeply in search of some lingering trace of his presence. But even that was fading, disappearing like smoke on the wind.
I had ruined it. In my pride and wounded feelings, I had destroyed the one good thing that had ever entered my life. The connection that hummed between us felt stretched now, strained by distance and misunderstanding, though it hadn't broken entirely. He was still somewhere on the island, I could sense that much, but he might as well have been on the far side of the world.
Tears came then, hot and bitter as they tracked down my cheeks to stain the silk beneath my face. I wept for what we'd had and lost, for the future that seemed impossibly out of reach, for the crown that would transform me into something unworthy of his devotion.
But beneath the grief, embers of determination still glowed. This was not over. It could not be over, not when we had found something so precious it defied the very foundations of the world I'd known.
I would find him. I would make him understand that duty and love need not be enemies, that there were ways to honor both without destroying either. The old kings had failed because they'd tried tobuild their happiness on foundations of secrecy and shame.
I would not make that mistake.
I would be a different kind of king, one who could love openly and rule justly, who could transform the Three Isles from a realm built on conquest into something worthy of the beauty we'd discovered here. It seemed impossible, but then again, so had the idea that Rhazir might ever return the feelings I'd harbored for so long.
The sun was setting beyond our windows, painting the chamber in shades of rose and gold that reminded me of the dawn when I'd first dared to voice my desire. That seemed like a lifetime ago now, but the memory gave me strength.
I would not give up on us. Not when we had something worth fighting for, worth risking everything to preserve.
The crown might be my destiny, but Rhazir was my choice. And I would find a way to have both, or die in the attempt.
After all, what was the point of being king if you couldn't reshape the world to protect what you loved most?
Chapter
Thirteen
RHAZIR
The path down to Eletheria's harbor wound like a ribbon of marble through terraces that bloomed with impossible beauty, each turn revealing new wonders that made my heart ache with loss I hadn't yet fully accepted. My pack hung heavy on my shoulders, not from its weight, which was modest enough, but from what it represented. The canvas sack tucked carefully within held items more precious than gold or jewels, things I couldn't bear to leave behind even knowing they would only torment me with memories in the dark days ahead.
The island seemed determined to display all its splendor as I descended, as if bidding me farewell with every graceful curve of architecture, every fountain that sang with crystal voices, every garden where flowers bloomed in defiance of any earthlyseason. Here was a world built not for the strong alone, but for anyone who could appreciate beauty for its own sake. The paths were carved wide enough for old men with walking sticks, the steps shallow enough for children to climb without struggle, the temples open to any who sought their peaceful embrace.
How different this was from the Three Isles, where only the strongest could make the treacherous climb to the palace carved into black cliffs, where only those who had proven their worth in blood could earn an audience with the king. Our architecture spoke of conquest and intimidation, walls built to repel invaders, towers designed to spot enemy ships on distant horizons, chambers constructed to echo the screams of the condemned.
When had we become so cruel? When had strength become our only virtue, fear our only tool of governance?
The harbor spread below me like a jeweled tapestry, its waters reflecting the afternoon sun in patterns of gold and turquoise that danced with each gentle wave. Ships bobbed at anchor, sleek vessels with painted hulls and silken sails, nothing like the grim war galleys that darkened our own ports. Even here, surrounded by commerce and purpose, people moved with unhurried grace, stopping their work to greet neighbors, to laugh atshared jests, to simply exist in the moment rather than rush toward some distant goal.
I found a captain willing to take passengers among the forest of masts, a weathered man whose eyes held the patient wisdom of decades spent reading wind and wave. His ship was built for cargo rather than comfort, but the coin I offered was generous enough to secure his private cabin.
"The Three Isles, you said?" His expression grew thoughtful. "Haven't had cause to sail those waters in years. Dangerous seas, those. Pirates and worse."
"We'll pay whatever price you name," I replied, pulling more silver from my purse than most men saw in a year.
His eyebrows rose at the sight, but he didn't question the source of such wealth. "Passage for two, departing at dawn. The cabin's yours, though it's not much to speak of. Built for function, not luxury."
"Function will serve us well enough."
We shook hands on the bargain, his palm rough with rope burns and salt, mine callused from sword work. "Mind you're here when the tide turns," he warned. "I'll not wait past sunrise, coin or no coin."
I promised we would be ready, though the words felt like ash in my mouth. Ready for what? To drag Serin from paradise back to a realm that would crush everything beautiful within him? To watch thecrown transform the laughing young man I loved into another grim monarch obsessed with conquest and control?
After securing our passage, I remained on the docks, watching the bustle of life that surrounded me. No grim faces here, weathered by constant hardship. No leathery skin hanging loose on frames hollowed by hunger. No wails of pain from those who had offended their betters, no sighs of resignation from people who had given up hope of anything better.
These people were alive in ways I'd never imagined possible. Merchants paused in their negotiations to share wine with competitors who might have been enemies elsewhere. Children played games that involved laughter rather than violence. Workers set down their tools to listen when musicians struck up melodies on street corners, coins flowing freely from purses opened in appreciation rather than fear.
The temples rising behind the commercial district put our grandest shrines to shame - not through size or ostentation, but through the peace that radiated from their marble walls. Priests moved among the people offering blessings freely given, accepted with joy rather than the desperate hope of those who had nothing left to lose.
How had the Three Isles strayed so far from whatever path had once made them great? We hadprecious metals locked away in vaults while our people scraped bare livings from unforgiving soil. Our carpenters, who could craft works of art that would be treasured for generations, were put to work making siege engines and catapults. Blacksmiths whose skill rivaled the legendary artificers of old spent their days forging swords and spears instead of the delicate clockwork mechanisms I'd glimpsed in Eletherian workshops.
