Not even Saru’s light would have been enough.
Darrius nods. “I’ve been thinking of building a school for magical studies in her name. For budding magi.”
“That would be a lovely way to honor her memory,” I tell him, spreading my wings and wrapping my magic around him in a full-bodied hug.
“She was the smartest person I ever knew.” He laughs sadly. “Even as a child, that brain of hers had the power to change the world. She would have made a strong queen, if our laws of primogeniture had been different and she had been nurtured to the role.”
“So change them. That would be an even better way to honor her.”
He huffs another laugh. “Just like that?”
“Change is inevitable, Darrius, if we want to become better people,” I say quietly, spinning him to face me and studying his beautiful, somber face. “But we have to make the effort when we see that old ways are not working. We have to leave the world a better place than we found it. Otherwise, what are we here for?”
My king cups my jaw and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “That’s true.”
“Ani wasn’t alone, you know, in the way she felt, that she was overlooked and undervalued. I admit there were times in Coban when I felt the same, that my only value was in my dowry and my ability to bear children.” I bite my lip with a shrug. “I suppose that’s why I rebelled and became a bladesmith. But I was also lucky because my father never forced me into traditional roles. He let me do what I loved.”
“We need more men like him,” Darrius murmurs, gathering me into his arms.
“Youarelike him. You’ve never made me feel less than or that I needed saving.” I loop my arms around his neck, feeling his shadows come alive to tangle with my ribbons of light. “And if you truly intend to do something about it, then we should talk to the women of this realm. In a sense, the Aspacana have the right of it. They might have their problems, but their women’s voices hold the same weight as their men’s.”
He lets out a heavy exhale as he detaches from my embrace to lead us to the door. “Do you think Ani hated me?”
“I think she hated who she became,” I say. “You were simply a convenient target.”
He shakes his head. “It feels wrong to be sad after everything she did.”
“It’s all right to grieve, Dare. She was your sister. Your feelings will always be real, but you can’t blame yourself for the path she chose. I’ve been where she was, so consumed by anger and pain that I couldn’t see anything else. I had to make the choice between the truth and the lie, and sometimes the lie is easier because it’s what we want to believe. Truth means looking inward at ourselves... and sometimes acknowledging that we don’t like what we see. That is never easy—it takes great courage.”
“You’re very wise, my wife,” he says.
I close the distance between us to kiss him soundly. “Don’t you forget it.”
Taking his hand, I lead him out of the castle and to the courtyard, where Maxur and his kingsguard are waiting near a portal that opens to the plains. But I stop Darrius as he heads toward it. The Aspacana have their own traditions to honor their dead as well as rituals and feasting to celebrate them in their next lives. The king and queen of Everlea are expected to attend.
“We’re taking a small detour,” I say to Maxur. “The king and I will meet you at the burial grounds shortly.”
Darrius frowns. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I form a portal of my own and drag him through. Within seconds, we emerge on a plateau overlooking Deadman’s Canyon, where a dozen azdahas are soaring the clear blue skies above us. I’m grateful that so many of them survived the azhi, including Razulek, Indira, and their two hatchlings.
As if my thoughts have summoned them, we are suddenly accosted by two gamboling baby azdahas that are the cutest things I’ve ever seen. One, a female, is a luminous silver, and the other, a male, is a vibrant green, just like his sire, though he has beautiful crimson markings over the nubs of his horns. I’ve never seen a prouder father than Razulek, who is perched a few feet away on a rocky outcropping.
I glance at my king. “You needed some adorable baby therapy, and Raz said they needed some playtime.”
“When did they hatch?” Darrius asks, a tender expression taking over his face, one that makes me feel distinctly warm on the inside.
A fortnight ago,Razulek says.
“How’s Indira?” I ask.
My mate is taking a well-deserved rest.
I giggle when the two babies crash into each other, their tiny wings flapping hard as they go tumbling over the ground, snapping their fang-filled mouths at each other. “They’re already so big.”
Azdahas mature at a faster rate as hatchlings. Our growth slows as adolescents.
