Raiah wouldn’t be alive without Soren’s intervention, a fact Taisiya had seen fit to remind him of over the past few months. His darling daughter was his legacy, what he fought for when it came to the Imperial throne. He’d not have either if Soren hadn’t been present during the Conclave last year.
“When the memories with Callisto came back to me, I knew I couldn’t speak of them. I’d have lost the wardens and you if I did.” Soren sighed roughly, voice steady when he spoke again. “I might have lost the wardens anyway, but the thought of losing you was why I never asked. I was selfish.”
Vanya hummed softly, looking up at where the Lion constellation burned brightest in the night sky. “We are both selfish for wanting the same thing.”
“I still lost you both.”
“As you said before,” Vanya murmured. “You always had me. My House is yours.”
Tension leaked out of Soren, the other man finally relaxing against Vanya. Their voices never became louder than a murmur in the hours that followed. They spoke of the past like it was some distant land despite the immediacy of what lay ahead, born of those choices. Whatever came from their roads merging, Vanya would face it with Soren by his side. He would never regret the pain they’d endured, for it had brought Soren back to him.
Ten
SOREN
The logistics of decamping the Imperial court from Oeiras to Calhames took less time than Soren anticipated. Vanya had apparently been ruling out of Oeiras for quite some time, but the Senate remained ever in Calhames. For all that Vanya had the right and power to issue orders pertaining to war, consulting with his military advisors and notifying the Senate in person seemed prudent, especially with a whisper campaign running through the Houses again after the latest attempted assassination against him.
Hanging above all the political maneuverings was the vow itself that Vanya owed, something that Caelum admitted was giving him migraines and stress ulcers. Vanya’s Chief Minister was nothing if not a consummate professional when it came to preparing for the pushback sure to come from Vanya’s decision.
“The House of Sa’Liandel pays its debts, whether by gaining power over the House we owe it to or acknowledging what is owed and paying it,” Vanya had said the day after their time together spent in the bathhouse.
“You forgot murder,” Soren had replied.
Vanya had given him a droll look over their midday meal. “We have to pray to Callisto somehow.”
They’d talked about more than politics in the few days they spent together in Oeiras. Soren had stayed in the Imperial estate without apology or explanation to the Ashionen delegation, leaving the others to work their politics without him. For the first time in months, he slept deeply and without dreams while in Vanya’s bed. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Lore, when the Ashionen diplomatic dignitaries met with Vanya about the vow, had expressed her concern about Soren’s new position—firmly standing with Vanya and disregarding his rank as heir to Caris. The trade tongue was perhaps not the best language to pursue diplomacy in, but she kept at it, worried for her country and her people, having never quite trusted Soren’s position, despite both of them having a singular goal.
“You should fly with us,” she said when they met at the gates to the airfield on the day they were to depart. The Imperial procession was long and involved, and Soren would have been with Vanya and Raiah in the midst of it, but Lore had asked for a moment, to which he had agreed.
“We’ll end up at the same destination,” Soren said.
Lore frowned at him, her gaze impossible to read. “You are Ashionen.”
“I never wanted to be. Caris is getting what she wants, what Ashion needs. Let that be enough.”
“You are her brother. Will you not support her?”
Weeks of knowing each other in the midst of politics and war didn’t make a family. Bloodlines were written down in genealogies, but all that granted was power, which neither he nor Caris had ever truly wanted. But Ashion wanted a queen, and he would not take that from her, not when his road led elsewhere. “I am supporting Maricol.”
“Do you even wish to be her heir?”
“I don’t want her crown.” The words came out flat but firm, a truth Soren would tell anyone who asked. What he wanted, Ashion could not give him, but for the future of Maricol, he’d ensure Caris claimed the starfire throne.
Soren walked away from Lore, not interested in explaining the reason Vanya held his heart. He made his way down the pier toward the pair of Imperial airships. Vanya waited on the pier for him, Raiah in his arms, Taisiya already boarded. When he reached them, Vanya tipped Raiah into his arms, the Imperial princess immediately latching onto Soren.
“She asked that you fly with her,” Vanya said, a smile twitching at his lips.
The need for an heir meant Vanya and Raiah always traveled separately, with Taisiya seeing to Raiah’s care these days, as the household was still without a majordomo. Soren knew it always made Vanya worry, being separated like this, but he’d traveled the same way as a prince when his mother had been alive. Better their House had a claim on the Imperial throne than to see it fall to another amidst the threat of war.
“Is that what you want?” Soren asked Raiah.
She kicked her legs a little, beaming at him. “Yes! Papa said it was okay.”
“Well then. If he agreed, it seems I must.”
Raiah cheered, pleased with herself, and Soren smiled at her. He’d missed her while away, and she’d grown so in that time. His absence had been felt deeply by her, from what Vanya had said, and Soren was more than willing to prove he wouldn’t be walking away again.
