A muscle in his jaw flexes, his mouth going tight. “Don’t be like this.”
“Like what?”
Roshan’s nostrils flare. “Petulant.”
The word is an arrow through my heart and I flinch.“Petulant?”I echo. “You think what I want is petulant?”
He rubs his brow as a divot of irritation forms between them. “There’s more at stake here than your family,” he replies as if chiding a child, and my spine stiffens. “Unrest in the kingdom is rampant from the capital to Nyriell, and the Scavs also have ties with this oracle threat, which changes everything. I need you to be safe, Sura. This is for your protection.”
We’re going around in useless circles. I beg and he denies. I’m trapped and I fucking hate it. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”
“I’m the king,” he says evenly.
My eyes sting with a pressure I’m growing to despise. “And I’m your...” The words choke me. What am I? I’m his tool. Not his partner or his wife, and certainly not his queen. “... subject.”
“You’re more than that and you know it.”
Clenching my jaw, I turn around and grip the balcony rails, my fingers becoming numb against the cold iron. My simurgh uncoils restlessly inside of me but waits for my lead. We have a tenuous understanding when it comes to the king... and his reign over us.
“Fine,” I say. “Whatever pleases His Imperial Majesty.”
He exhales. “Sura, enough, please.” When I refuse to acknowledge him, he sighs heavily. “Don’t stay out here too long in the cold.” He hesitates when I remain silent. “You’re the most important thing in my life.”
“Am I?” I ask.
“You know you are. But I can’t afford to be selfish when the people of Oryndhr need me to be the king they deserve, to keep them safe.”
“The king they deserve? Or merely a slightly less tyrannical version of your brother?” I swallow hard at his sharp inhale and glance over my shoulder. His eyes have gone flinty, mouth a thin line of displeasure. I recognize the expression. This is the face the king of Oryndhr shows his enemies, not his beloved. “Ruling by oppression has never led to anything good. Your people are living in fear, under laws that you’ve imposed. Your army camps on their doorsteps, Roshan. That’s not safety. You can’t keep someone safe by locking them away!” I say furiously.
He glares, knowing I’m speaking of more than the people of Oryndhr. “When the threat is over, they will be safe.Youwill be safe.”
I shake my head. “And when will that be? Six months from now? A year? Ten years?”
“When I say it is!” he shouts.
A loud rap on the bedchamber door has us both swiveling. “Your Majesty? Is all well?”
“Yes,” he calls back to the guard. The king regards me once more, shoving his hands into his pockets and visibly attempting to calm himself. “I don’t want to fight.”
Too late for that. I pin my lips between my teeth, trying to keep my stupid tears at bay. All the power of the universe at my fingertips, and I’m on the verge of breaking down into pathetic sobs.
Roshan steps close and cradles my face in his large hands. “I didn’t mean to yell. I’m on edge about other things, but that’s no excuse. We’ll go to Coban after Eloni, I promise. How’s that?”
“Thank you,” I say thickly.
“You’re welcome. Remember I love you, Suraya, and anything I do is out of love and for your well-being.”
My brows draw together at the somberness of his tone, but then his lips are on mine, silencing any reply. The kiss is sweet and soothing, stirring feelings inside of me to life—but the grasp of his fingers on my chin tightens ever so slightly when his mouth slants open, demanding more. It’s not rough, exactly, but it makes me tense, more so when the fingers of his free hand wind into my hair and angle my head back. Usually, I enjoy his assertiveness in the bedroom, but tonight, after our exchange, it feels like he’s exerting much more than that. Like this act—thispositioning—is a punctuation of something.
His royal will.
When he breaks the strange but not wholly unwelcome kiss, his eyes are flickering with a combination of desire... and despair? I blink. Why would he look so torn? Perhaps he’s as upset as I am about the distance between us, about the quarrels that have grown more frequent. Sands, am I the unreasonable one here? He is the king, after all, responsible for an entire kingdom.
“Truce?” I offer softly.
Roshan stares down at me, his handsome face solemn and unreadable. Usually, he wears his emotions on his sleeve with me, but lately, he has become skilled at hiding them. He lifts his hand as if to caress my face again, but it lingers in the air between us for a half second before falling away. “Promise you don’t hate me for loving you too much.”
“I could never hate you, Ro.”
