Part I
To behold the simurgh is a most precious gift;
the brightest heart is but a mirror of its divine beauty.
—ATESTIMONY OF THEROYALSTARS
Chapter One
Coban is hot.Deserthot.
I can’t help the grin that breaks over my face as the dry wind hits my cheek when we step through the enormous shimmering portal. Of course, it’s nothing like the first time I used a portal to travel to the capital city of Kaldari for Prince Javed’s bride contest—or the last time, when I came back alone to say goodbye to my father and Amma.
Sands, the invitation that had changed my life seems like a lifetime ago.
I suppose it is. I’m a different woman now. Amagi. Powerful in my own right with the magic of the stars at my fingertips. Silvery iridescence flickers over my knuckles as the simurgh inside of me stirs, sensing my joy.
We’re here. Finally.
It feels as though a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I breathe in the desert air like someone deprived of oxygen for years.
The noise of the village hits me then as cheers of welcome rend the air. The smell of sweet incense infuses the village as we step into the decorated market square. Connected garlands of flowers stretch across the space, and colorful yellow and orange marigold petals litter the ground wherever we tread. I can barely see over the heads of the men marching in front of me, but my heart knows that it’s home.
Instead of the single runecaster and dozen guards I’d had before, I now arrive in the presence of the king of Oryndhr. King Roshan Acharia, First of His Name. Illegitimate son of the former sovereign, King Zarek. Brother to the deceased regent Javed, the despotic ruler who sought to bring back the worst of the old gods by using me.
Me, Suraya Saab, the prophesized Starkeeper.
The only natural source of true magic in Oryndhr for centuries.
As a result, we are accompanied by several dozen imperial soldiers, six runecasters, the full might of the entire kingsguard, and a handful of attendants. The guards are all armed to the teeth with jadu-forged weapons, not that we expect any kind of attack from the people of my simple village, but one can never be too careful.
I’m no longer the humble tavern girl who had never left the desert. In fact, I’ve seen enough of Oryndhr to make me want to settle down for a while and just enjoy the tranquility of being still. Though there doesn’t seem to be any sign of that happening in the immediate future, not with this royal tour of the realm. It’s a necessary show of strength to the four noble houses, that much is clear. Coban is the first stop, but the bigger cities are still to come.
I’m still hoping that I can get out of that; Roshan doesn’t need me.
“Suraya! Sura, over here!”
I turn wildly, searching through the faces surrounding us, and ignore the barked warning of the commander of the guard—Hamid, formerly the leader of the now dissolved Dahaka—to propel myself into my father’s arms. Amma is next, her round face already wet with tears. Mine are quick to follow as I inhale her delicious, familiar scent of wood, baking bread, and spices.
“Stars, I’ve missed you both so much!”
“My lady,” Hamid says, looming behind me, narrowed eyes on my father. “Please get behind the guards with His Majesty. It’s not safe.”
I frown. “This is my home. I have nothing to fear here.”
“It’s the king’s command,” Hamid insists.
“Fine.” I want to roll my eyes, but Roshan’s protectiveness is nothing new. In fact, I usually enjoy having the gratifying sole focus of his attention, especially after we’d nearly lost each other, but sometimes it can be excessive.
With an apologetic look to Papa and Amma, I comply, moving closer to where Roshan is being greeted by the effusive alderman of Coban. The local representative takes both of my hands in his and bows. I don’t remember him ever being so friendly to me, but being in the presence of royalty will have that effect.
As we are led to the village hall, once more surrounded by Hamid and his very efficient kingsguard, most of whom are trusted senior officers from the Dahaka, I glance over at Roshan, who is immaculately dressed in his ceremonial golden-threaded, amethyst-hued robes. My heart instantly beats a little faster. Sands, he’s so handsome.
His dark hair is brushed back from his brow and his eyes are lined with kohl. An elegant dusting of gold shimmers across his high cheekbones, enhancing their sharpness even more. The faintest hint of dark stubble over his hard jaw brackets that sultry and very talented mouth—the one he’d used earlier that morning to my utter ruin—making me catch my breath. The memory of those lips nearly makes my knees buckle.
His head swivels, and his golden-brown gaze slams into mine.
“Stop it,” he whispers. The mouth that I’d been thirstily staring at curls into a smirk.
