He cocks his head. “Only Oryndhr?”
“I’m working on it, Aran,” I admit softly. “Trust takes a lifetime to build and a blink to demolish. I love him, but he shattered my heart.”
Aran’s eyes are full of regret. “He’ll make it up to you, I know he will. Just give him the chance.”
After Aran joins the others, closing the doors behind him and offering me a modicum of privacy, I sit on the edge of the bed and brush my fingers along Roshan’s tanned, clean-shaven jaw. He’s so handsome, it hurts. I remember his quip about being Sleeping Beauty in the temple and waiting for his kiss, and I laugh softly.
“It’s time to wake up, my stubborn prince,” I murmur, and press a kiss to his soft lips. My palms begin to glow, and I place them directly over his heart. “Time to lead your people and be the ruler you were born to be. Time to become a king.”
A current of powerful magic charges between us, and Roshan’s chest heaves up against my hands. He exhales a sharp, shuddering breath. I can feel the deep, steady throb of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, the bright burst of his soul flaring in response to the call of my starlight. I want to bask in him, to cocoon myself in his warmth. I let the wings of my simurgh brush his living aura, and I almost purr with the pleasure of it. He might not have magic, but he is mine.
Slowly,slowly,I coax him out of his slumber.
Wake up, Roshan.
His eyes flutter open, and that brilliant, glittering topaz-flecked brown gaze focuses on me. For a heart-stopping beat, there’s no recognition in their glossy, vacant depths, his pupils looking like pinpricks of oil, but then his lashes dip and a slow smile breaks over his face. “Sura.”
“Hi.”
“Are we dead?”
I smile. “No.”
“You’re here,” he murmurs.
“Where else would I be?”
Stiff fingers reach out for mine as if he doesn’t trust his own eyes that I’m here sitting beside him. “You know... up there.”
“I was. I came back.”
“You did?” he asks. “Why?”
“You know why.”
That slow, lopsided smile snatches my breath away. “Because you want to ride me into the sunset?”
I burst into laughter, despite the devastating heat spreading like wildfire all along my insides at his wicked words. “Who would believe the future king of Oryndhr has such a deliciously filthy mouth on him?”
“Not all the time. Only when you’re around.” He blinks, guilt flashing through his irises. “Does this mean you forgive me?”
“I’m trying. It’s easy to forgive, much harder to forget,” I say, not wanting to damage our fragile new start with another lie.
“That’s all I can ask for,” he says earnestly.
Unable to help myself, I drag my fingers along his jaw, and he stalls my hand, drawing it to his mouth. The brief press of his soft lips on the pads of my fingers makes every single nerve in my body go haywire. Attraction was never the problem between us, and I want nothing more than to replace my fingers with my mouth and tongue and kiss him until we’re both senseless. But there are questions that need to be answered, and if we start kissing now, neither of us will stop.
Gently, I pull my hand away. “Roshan, wait. We need to talk. How are you truly feeling?”
Those full lips tighten with disappointment, but he nods. “I feel... alive,” he says, sitting up.
He rolls his neck and shoulders, and for an infinitesimal moment as he turns to face me, a hint of reddish smoke bleeds through his irises. My breath stills. His lashes sweep down and up, and there’snothing there. I shake my head, wondering if I’m seeing things, but that golden-brown gaze is wide and lucid with no trace of anything else in them but melting candor. I’m being paranoid about nothing. Morvarid is dead. Fero is dead.
Roshan’s solemn stare meets and holds mine. “And lucky to be, I know.”
“You’ll be king now.”
“Javed?”
