“I know. I just... It’s killing me, Aran.” To my horror, I feel my eyes swim with unwanted tears. “I see their faces, wonder about their families. It’s not right. We shouldn’t be ruling by fear. We have to earn the people’s trust.”
“First, we have to weed out the traitors,” Aran says.
I bite my lip. “You sound like him.”
“Think of how many you’re saving,” he says. “Those mercenaries are not innocent, Sura. There are nobles who would do anything to see themselves on the throne instead of a bastard. They need to know the consequences of not offering their fealty.” His mouth curls into a smile. “Together, you and Roshan are unstoppable.”
“Roshan and me, or Roshan and the Starkeeper?” I murmur.
“Both, Sura.Of courseboth. He loves you.”
I exhale and rub the heel of my palm over my aching chest. “He doesn’t tell me anything anymore. He’s started keeping me in the dark about talks with the council and his so-called plans. I have no idea what he intends to do about the Scavs or the oracle, and I have to hear about border skirmishes by accident.”
“Because he’s trying to protect you!” Aran says vehemently, taking me by surprise. “It’s not like you’ve hidden your condemnation when he asks you to stand by him against his foes. He knows you hate fighting his battles, so why would he burden you with them? Think of it from his point of view, Sura. My cousin loves you and will do anything for you.”
I open my mouth and close it, contradictory emotions warring inside of me. “I know he does, and I’m on his side. I had hoped to be an equal partner, to have my opinions be heard, but he refuses to listen or even confide in me. It feels like I’m nothing but his pawn.” I lift my hands. “A convenient deadly weapon.”
“Don’t say that,” Aran says, looking distraught. “Let me talk to him.”
At that moment, a group of dignitaries from Veniar summons Aran. After he excuses himself to greet them, I can’t help my conflicted feelings of being cherished but caged, of being treasured but not trusted. I try to distract myself by watching the couples dancing in their finery. An alderman from Regulus catches my eye. He’s tall with salt-and-pepper hair, and he’s dancing with a familiar face—his daughter Helena.
Both of them are masters of court intrigues, and, unlike me, she has been raised from birth to navigate these ever-eddying waters. Even now, her expression is calm but calculating as she surveys the room, missing nothing. When she whirls past, I meet those glacial, intelligent blue eyes, and they narrow slightly before she inclines her head toward me in a polite show of deference. I nod back just as graciously.
I have no doubt if things changed between Roshan and me that she would be first in line angling for a crown of her own, but again, I don’t fault her for that. And although Roshan has made his intentions clear with regards to me as his future queen, he hasn’t formally proposed yet, which begs the question as to where I actually stand. The plain truth is I don’t wear the king’s ring and I’m a fool if I don’t believe anyone has noticed.
As if my thoughts have summoned him, I feel his commanding presence.
“Starling, you outshine every star in the sky.”
That warm baritone makes my heart stutter as he lifts my knuckles to his lips. Stars, but he’s handsome in his kingly finery, the rich purple of his ceremonial tunic edged with deep gold complementing the burnished tones of his skin. His dark hair is brushed away from his crown, and his brown eyes sparkle with a light I haven’t seen in what feels like forever.
“You look well, my king,” I say.
“Well?”he teases. “That’s all the praise I get?”
I raise both brows, surprised to witness this playful side of him, which is normally hidden at court events. He must have received some good news to be this happy. Or perhaps he’s trying to find a path forward for us, too. “Compliments have to be earned, Your Majesty.”
“So what can this desperate fool do to earn sweet accolades from the most beautiful woman in the room?” he says as he draws me toward the middle of the ballroom floor. “Perhaps she will deign to grace him with a dance?”
“Only if he begs nicely.”
He lowers those ridiculously long eyelashes, fingers trailing down my arm and leaving flickers of heat in their wake. “Please, my sweet, vicious starling, put your beloved out of his misery and dance with him.” My core gives an indecent flutter even as the runes on my forearms light up with glimmering radiance. His eyes darken at the effect of his touch on me. “I take that as a yes, then.”
“So cocky, my king,” I murmur.
“Good thing I can read you like a book.”
With a sinfully heated smirk, the king lifts me at the waist and spins me in a dramatic circle that makes my gossamer skirts float in a cloud of gold-kissed lavender to the sounds of polite applause as the musical strains of a slow court waltz begin. He leads me to the center of the room.
“His Royal Majesty, King Roshan Acharia of the Imperial House, and his starblessed chosen, Lady Suraya Saab of the House of Aldebaran,” the vizier intones.
I nearly stumble, not realizing this was to be an official spectacle, but I suppose that anything with the king always is. Gone are the days of inconspicuous swaying on the periphery. The nostalgic memory of the first time we’d navigated this room together hits me like a gut punch. My gardener-prince had handed me a glass of elderflower liqueur before we’d danced to a similar song and drawn the attention of the crown prince himself.
A lifetime ago when I was an ordinary girl, and Roshan, an ill-favored son.
Being invisible was a gift we hadn’t known the value of.
He bows deeply in front of me, and I perform the requisite curtsy, sinking gracefully to the floor. When I rise, he gathers me into his embrace, one arm slipping around my waist and the other weaving through my fingers. I suck in a breath as his thumb grazes the tender skin of my palm over the star symbol etched there. My runes glimmer again, and that smirk deepens with satisfaction. “Like a book,” he whispers.
