"I would like to say it is mine to bear, but I fear I would be lost without you." The words came easier now, truth flowing like water finally released from a dam. I hesitated, then licked my lips, gathering courage for what needed to be said. "Rhazir, I love you."
My breath hitched as the confession hung between us like an offering. "I do not know how it will last when we are home, but I know that it will have to. I won't give you up for as long as you will have me."
His eyes widened with something that might have been joy, wonder and pain warring in his expression. He smiled, though sadness tinged the edges of it. "I love you too, Serin. I have loved you for years. You were the first and only thing that made the Three Isles my home."
We came together like two halves of a whole finally reunited, lips meeting in a kiss that tasted of moonlight and possibility. This was different from our earlier passion, deeper, more certain, touched with the bittersweet knowledge of time's swift passage. When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against his, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and steel that had always meant safety to me.
"Perhaps it truly is time to go home," I said, though the words felt like swallowing broken glass.
Rhazir swallowed hard and nodded. "I have booked us passage on a ship leaving at dawn."
"Of course." I accepted the inevitability with as much grace as I could muster. Then, seized by sudden need to hold onto whatever time remained, I took his hands in mine and squeezed them tight. "There are still some hours before dawn. Perhaps we could share a bath."
"Yes," he said immediately, and I heard the same desperate hunger in his voice that clawed at my chest. "I would love to."
Then, after a pause that seemed charged with electricity, he added with welling excitement, "There is more."
"Oh?"
"I have thought of it all day, all these days, and I have taken a step to make it so."
Curiosity sparked through me, warm and welcome after so much grief. "What step?"
"The Three Isles," he said carefully, letting go of my hands and turning away as if gathering his thoughts. Through our connection, I felt excitement brimming between us like champagne in a shaken bottle. When he turned back to me, his eyes blazed with possibility. "We are rich in resources and talents, yet we take and take and take, never making our own goods to trade. We have people harder than hundred-year-old oak planks, yet we put them to all the wrong jobs."
He paused, collecting himself, then pressed on with growing fervor. "You love Eletheria, Serin. Youshould not just take a small part of it with you, but you should strive to recreate it, reshape your kingdom in its image. Here, they produce wine and oranges and olives, yet they are rich beyond our dreams. Could we not do the same?"
Hope fluttered in my chest like a caged bird suddenly glimpsing open sky. "Who would trade with the Three Isles' raiders?" I asked apprehensively, though my heart was already racing with possibility.
Rhazir's eyes lit up, and I felt his excitement pulse through our link like liquid fire. "I have spoken to the elders. It is from where I have come to seek you out, Serin. We have spent hours in discussion, and Priest Myris has agreed to dispatch a friendly, unofficial delegation to attend your ascension in a fortnight. A scholarly priest of Myris's own order, named Kaelen, will visit us in the company of his bonded partner, a militant of Eletheria. With them, Elyon's preachers of light will come - Priests Callis and Auren. Though far from an agreement, their visit will establish a connection and, perhaps, some sharing of knowledge and tradition, just as your visit has done."
I stared at him in amazement. "You have done all this in a day's conversation?"
"It isn't much, I know, but it is a start," he said apologetically, as if arranging the impossible was somehow insufficient.
Laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep in my chest, bright and incredulous and utterly unstoppable. "Your talents have been wasted in the past, Rhazir. Inviting the first delegation to the Three Isles in a century is far more than any king, lord, or diplomat has ever accomplished for us."
He looked stunned. "It pleases you?"
"It pleases me beyond words, my love," I assured him, taking his hands again and feeling the calluses that spoke of years spent in my service. "The lords won't be happy."
"They will grumble and scheme, and some of them will die when their scheming goes too far," Rhazir replied with cold certainty that reminded me he was far more than a simple bodyguard. "I will make sure they do."
"Or we could abandon the Three Isles' way, my love. Perhaps it is those lords who need to travel more and see the worlds beyond our rocky shores."
Confusion flickered across his features briefly, but then understanding dawned and he nodded with growing conviction. "Expand their horizons rather than simply removing them. Wiser, perhaps."
"Very well," I said, looking deep into his dark eyes before tilting my face up to the starry canopy above us. The moment hung suspended like a held breath, poised between past and future, between the man I had been and the king I must become. I inhaled deeply, drawing strength from the jasmine-scented air, from the connection that sang between us like a plucked harp string. "It is time. You may do what we know you must."
Rhazir nodded, and through our bond I felt him lending me his courage, his strength, his unwavering faith in whatever future we would build together.
I stepped back and sank to one knee on the moonlit stones, looking up at him as he stood silhouetted against the star-scattered sky. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched him untie the canvas bag from his belt, his movements reverent as those of a priest approaching a sacred altar.
The ceremonial crown emerged from its protective wrapping like a dark star given form. Iron thorns twisted together in a circlet that had graced the brows of kings for centuries, each thorn representing the painful choices that came with absolute power. In the moonlight, it seemed almost alive, hungry for the next soul it would claim.
But as Rhazir lifted it above my bowed head, the words he spoke transformed everything. The ancient phrases of investiture flowed from his lips with new meaning, each syllable heavy with love and loyalty and promises that went far deeper than mere political allegiance.
"By the old laws and the ancient bonds that tie soul to soul, I name thee Serin, first of that name, rightful King of the Three Isles and all who dwelltherein. May thy reign bring wisdom where there was folly, peace where there was strife, and love where there was only fear."
