Something settled in Honovi at that soft confession. Blaine’s duty to Caris might not be finished, but he could walk that road now as E’ridian and not Ashionen. Honovi curled his hand over the back of Blaine’s neck, the gold torc pressing into his palm, the curve of it familiar, right where it was supposed to be.
Nine
SOREN
Soren found Vanya in the Imperial family’s private star temple, the entrance guarded bypraetorialegionnaires, but the soldiers on duty let him pass without a word. His footsteps echoed in the nearly empty worship space as he walked down the aisle toward the altar. Moonlight shining through the stained-glass windows gave the color a different shade than during the day. Marble statues of the star gods stood in recesses between the windows, but only the one of the Dawn Star behind the altar had a candle burning at its feet.
Vanya knelt in the center of the lion head mosaic, hands loose on his thighs, head bowed. The candlelight threw odd shadows on his face, the eternal flame a beacon in the dark. Soren came to a stop beside Vanya, reaching out to trail his fingertips across Vanya’s right temple beneath the band of the crown he wore. “I put Raiah to bed. She was asking for you.”
“The Senate ran long today. Some bills I expected to sign had to be sent back to a committee for further review,” Vanya said, raising his head.
“Why?”
“The Conclave complicates my standing. I’m still emperor, but the unspoken question is for how much longer. My political preference on upcoming potential laws is not the same as another House’s.”
“What if you dismantled the Senate?” Vanya opened his eyes to glare at him, and Soren shrugged. “What if some other House on the Imperial throne dismantled the Senate?”
“Do you wish to see me dethroned? The Senate is needed to do the work of law.”
Soren snorted. “I wouldn’t care if you were an emperor or a noble. I just care that you aren’t dead.”
“You would be the only one.”
Soren grimaced, staring down at Vanya. He hadn’t moved from his position, attention on the altar in front of them. “Did I interrupt your prayers?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Vanya rolled to his feet and stood, smoothing down his robe. “Whatever comes of the Conclave, I know I have done what I can for Solaria.”
“You’re a good ruler.”
“That is always up for debate with someone.”
“You’re staring down future sanctions from the wardens, going against your culture when it comes to burying your royal dead over burning them, and you’re doing that despite what it might cost you personally.” Soren shifted on his feet, turning so he stood in front of Vanya rather than beside him, forcing Vanya to look at him and not the altar. “You want to keep Solaria whole. There’s no shame in that.”
He tried not to think about how he was part of the reason the sanctions were being handed down. Vanya had brought him into the crypt, after all, and Delani had told him to report back about anything of interest in the Imperial court. If he was anyone other than a warden, perhaps he could have kept that secret.
But he knew if he’d walked any other road, he might not be standing where he was, by Vanya’s side. That absence wasn’t something he wanted.
It was why the vow still hung around his throat.
Vanya’s smile was bittersweet in a way that made Soren want to smooth it away. “We are nothing if we are not Solaria. We have known that since the Great Separation. But knowing that still changes nothing about where the Houses stand. Letting the wardens know about the crypt has cooled some of the support I’d hoped to find. The rest aren’t supporting me because they believe in me, more that none of them trust Joelle.”
“I would think that those Houses who supportyouat least see you as a viable option. Who else could they possibly rally behind?”
“If I’m dead, I’m sure they’d find someone.”
Soren placed his fingers over Vanya’s lips. “Don’t talk like that.”
“These are the games the Houses play,” Vanya murmured, breath ghosting over his fingers. “This life is all I know.”
He wouldn’t choose something else—hecouldn’t. Seeking power was what the Housesdid. That’s why they existed as they were—families orbiting the Imperial throne the way Maricol orbited the sun. Soren had known that before he ever met Vanya, but the risks of such a culture had never been so personal as they were now.
Soren dragged his fingers over Vanya’s lips to rest against the side of his face, thumb pressed to the corner of his mouth. “You have a lot to live for, so try not to die during this Conclave of yours, princeling.”
He rose up, brushing his lips over Vanya’s in a gentle kiss that didn’t stay gentle for long. Vanya’s arm came around his waist, hauling him close, and Soren didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, drawing Vanya in. It was easy to stand like this in Vanya’s arms, trading drugging kisses because he’d learned to be greedy whenever he had Vanya within reach. Soren twisted his fingers around the soft fabric of his robes and held on because he was learning he didn’t like letting go.
Which was a problem.
When they finally broke apart, breathing raggedly, Soren was uncomfortably hard in his trousers, and Vanya had a look in his eyes that made his gut kick over like an engine sputtering to life. Vanya herded him backward to the altar, guiding him up the handful of stairs to the heavy table draped in velvet cloth.
