“What more do you want to know?” I ask.
Lasandra’s face softens, and her eyes sparkle with absolute fascination. “Your thoughts. Tell me what went through your head during the last time you made love to her.”
I reflect on that last night, on how I had Raelle watch the stars as I held her to me. Finding the right place to begin feels impossible, so I start with the raw truth. “I love her so fucking much. Despite every selfish and sinful thing I’ve done in mylife, she returns my affections. I’m so unworthy of that love, and at the same time, I couldn’t stand it if she loved another the way she does me. I remember watching her sink down on me and thinking,she’s mine. This brave, intelligent, strong, beautiful woman is mine. And I’m hers until my dying breath.” I lean forward, bracing my arms on my knees. My hands fold together, with my index fingers steepled against my mouth. I take a deep breath and dwell in the memory for a moment long before saying. “The pleasure I took from her body that night superseded the act. She was engraved on my heart, cemented in my mind, and stitched to my soul.” I sit up and meet Lasandra’s stare. A nervous sound slips from my throat. “I know it all sounds sappy, but it’s like you’ve asked me to tell you about each star in the heavens. I don’t know how to describe something so spectacular. Raelle simply leaves me speechless.”
“No. That was well done, young king.” She places her hand over her heart and her voice is raspy with pent-up emotions as she says, “You will have your meeting with my husband.”
I stand and bow my head. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I wish you luck finding your parah.”
With a curt nod, I step out of her room.
The conflict within me is a raging storm. I hate that my last night with Raelle no longer belongs to just the two of us. It feels cheapened, used for the entertainment of a woman who can never truly understand the bond I share with my parah. On the other hand, I’ve earned what I came here for and bought myself the opportunity to bury this moment beneath millions of kisses and countless nights with the woman I love. And that is exactly what I intend to do.
Six
RAELLE
Hills of clothes, mountains of books, and canyons constructed of framed art and chests of jewels make up the labyrinth that is Ashavee’s workspace. She sits in a red high-back chair behind a sturdy wooden desk, logging the Allaji’s newest acquisitions into a journal. The valuables are sorted on shelves that almost touch the storeroom’s ceiling. The shifters don’t find worth in items that don’t ensure their survival. Books, art, and most clothing are considered nothing more than kindling for a fire. My heart aches at seeing the talent and history of other kingdoms, including my own, discarded without a second thought.
“Ulric won’t sit still,” I say from my place on the floor next to a heap of clothes. “He opened the wound on his back again this morning and ruined another shirt. And don’t get me started on what it’s like sharing a bed with him. The man is in constant motion, up and down, walking around the room and turning from side to side on the mattress. How is he ever going to heal if he doesn’t take it easy?”
Ashavee glances up from the book she’s logging items into and cocks a brow. “I’m sure much of it is a nervous habit. It can’t be easy to be under the same roof as your enemy.”
“Trust me, I know.”
“I know you do. How is your leg?” she asks.
I run my hand over my tender thigh. The ache is continuous, and I fight not to limp when I walk. Any show of weakness can be used against me, whether it’s in Zek’s throne room or walking the halls of his palace. I won’t let my enemy think I’m easy prey. “The stitches have held up and the pain is bearable. At best, I can outrun Ulric.”
She snorts and says, “I’m not sure that gives you bragging rights, considering what he’s been through.”
“I take what I can get these days.” I pick up a tunic and add it to my pile.
Two days ago, making a joke about Ulric’s condition would have been the furthest thing from my mind. His physical state was heart-wrenching. I could barely look at him without tears welling in my eyes and stabbing pain in my chest. He’s still weak, but the color is returning to his complexion and his gaunt features plump with each meal. With him on the mend, it’s difficult not to think of the Cyffreds who aren’t as lucky as him. If Zek has his way, more will succumb to a worse fate than Ulric.
“You just need to keep him entertained,” Ashavee says, tossing a scroll at me. “Maybe you can have him solve the mystery of the Cruel King’s Stone.”
I remove the frayed leather tie and unroll the water-stained paper. The black ink is smeared in several places, but the image is still discernible. It’s a map. Of where? I’m not sure, but it’s detailed with sloppy notes written along the edges, marking places of interest.
“What is the Cruel King’s Stone?” I ask.
“You never went on treasure hunts as a child to look for the most powerful of all the Sacred Gifts. They say it’s the one that can give and take power.”
“No. I didn’t have time for many games as a child. I had history and royal protocol to learn. When I had the chance for fun, my best friend and I were sparring. We were determined to become the most skilled sword fighters in the five kingdoms,” I say, basking in the memory of Leif and I clashing swords in the middle of the forest.
“While you were learning to be queen, other children were searching for ways to rule the world. When some of those children grew up, they didn’t give up on that notion. It’s the driving force behind the Outlanders. They are searching for the stone.”
I examine the weathered map again. The terrain is mountainous, with countless bodies of water winding through the landscape. I’ve never claimed to be a geographical expert, but nothing is familiar to me. Even the small, printed notes next to landmarks aren’t helpful. The only familiar shape is the worn stamp on the corner of the tattered map.Property of the Stigian Royal Archives.
“This came from my kingdom,” I say.
“I’m not surprised. I believe this last haul came from one of your ships.” My face heats with anger, and I clench my jaw. They have stolen enough from my kingdom. The Allaji have my people, must they steal our goods too?
“I’m sorry, Elle,” Ashavee says, her apology sincere.
The desire to study the crude design of the map is dulled by the knowledge that I sit amongst items that may have cost more of my people their lives. Fearful that I might lose my breakfast if I linger on the thought for too long, I roll up the map and gather the clothes.
