His smile is small and doesn’t reach his eyes. Alarm bleeds through me and I grasp his wrist.
“We can work through this, you know that, right? All couples have disagreements. It’s natural.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh. “You knew who I was going into this. I’ve never been a passive woman.”
Finally, those eyes light. “No, you’re not.”
“But I love you and we’ll get through this,” I tell him.
“I know we will,” he agrees. He kisses me again, this one soft and barely a graze over my mouth. “Come back to bed soon, please?”
“I will.”
When Roshan goes into the bedchamber, I stare up at the skies, willing my aching heart to calm. The clouds have thickened, and now the moon is no longer visible. I lift my palm and call the rune for fire again, watch as a dancing flame appears. It curls over and between my fingers, not hot but warm. A flicker of light across the courtyard catches my eye, on a balcony off one of the other towers. I smile. Aran holds a similar flame aloft.
I lift a hand to wave, and notice the redheaded woman emerging from his quarters to tug him back inside. Helena. My former nemesis. I sayformerbecause she and her father have both bent the knee to prove their loyalties to Roshan and the Imperial House, and, by default, me as the king’s future betrothed. It’s no shock she has now set her sights on Aran, the king’s most valued adviser.
We would never be true friends—largely because she once tried to kill me in the arena—but I can applaud her ambition. In a world of men, we women have to fight for every scrap of power we can get. I’d never fault anyone for advocating for themselves via any means at their fingertips.
My lips curl into a wry smile. From how easily Aran lets himself be led back to bed, I’d say he’s not complaining one bit.
Good for him.
Apart from Roshan, he and Clem are my only real friends in court, though Clem and I are nowhere as close as Laleh and I had been. Sadness wells in my heart at the thought of my best friend, who had died under Morvarid’s knife. The memory of Laleh’s death is gutting. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her, wishing she were here to delight in the pleasures of the palace we’d once dreamed about.
Go to bed,I imagine her saying now.Or you’ll wake up with unsightly bags under your eyes, and who wants to see that?Go spoon that tall drink of water you call a king... and then fork him well.
I laugh softly. Stars, I miss her.
With one last glance to the darkened sky, I step back into the bedchamber where Roshan is already asleep. I need to be patient with him, I remind myself. We’re both under immense pressure. What’s a few more weeks or months when we have forever ahead of us? I slide under the covers and tuck myself into his side. He murmurs sleepily and throws a heavy arm over me.
“Forgive me, Sura,” he murmurs incoherently. “Own... good...”
Heart softening, I smile at his unwitting garbled words and smooth his thick, dark hair away from his brow. The gods know the truth of the matter: I’ll forgive him almost anything.
Chapter Four
One thing about a new king’s coronation that I’ll never get used to is the number of fancy balls and ten-course dinners I’m expected to attend. Months into Roshan’s reign, and half the time is spent figuring out how to pave the way for peace while the other half is spent plying these very well-fed nobles with food, drink, and dancing to make them feel venerated and important. Being a part of the royal court is exhausting.
And, of course, the Starkeeper must always be present.
Smoothing my voluminous clothing in the Imperial House traditional purple-and-gold colors, I inhale deeply and compose my face into a neutral mask at the entrance doors before nodding at the guards on duty to open them. Their hands are shaking, I notice, and I sigh at the incongruity of my roles as weapon and consort, the former clearly gaining a lot more notoriety than the latter.
As I enter the ballroom, I can taste the collective fear of those around me on my tongue like something bitter, even as their whispers are hidden by hands. I’ve become an effective tool to send the message throughout the realm that no treason will be tolerated, and gossip flies faster than fire. Now the entire court no longer stares at me with barely veiled disdain as the common-born future queen; they stare at me as the king’s murderous right hand. Even though I perform the execrable duty quickly, it feels as though everyone can see the blood dripping from my fingers.
Little do they know I’m drowning in blood.
“Starkeeper, how lovely you look,” a low voice says, and I turn to glower at Aran. He knows how much I’ve come to detest the moniker that has now come to stand for death instead of hope.
“Thank you, Lord Chancellor,” I reply with sweet venom, taking in his formal charcoal-gray uniform with his gold-embroidered purple sash. “As do you.”
His lips quirk as he pulls a face. “Touché. I loathe that title. How are you?”
I shrug. “I’ve not been asked to murder anyone today, so life is good.”
“Sura,” he says, eyes compassionate, “you know that using your power like this is the last thing he wants, the last thing any of us wants, but if we don’t put an end to brewing insurrection, more innocents will suffer. This is for the greater good of Oryndhr.”
It’s a miracle I keep my face from showing my contempt—I have heard those words so many times that they ring hollow to my ears. The greater good isn’t alwaysgood,not when people die. “Have you or Clem discovered any more about who the oracle is?” I ask. “Roshan mentioned that the Scavs have ties to them now. Isn’t that concerning?”
He nods. “The king has a plan for the Scavs, and as far as the mysterious oracle, we’re getting closer. They can’t hide forever. But in the meantime, you’re the only way we can prevail.”
