“Stop it,” I say, but let a tendril of my magic wind around him, dancing over any bare skin I can find... at his nape, over his jawline, flicking at his earlobe. I lick my lips and let him feel it with a slick pulse of magic against his own mouth.
“That’s not playing fair, my starling,” he growls, but that deep brown gaze is alight with mischief and attraction. The sight ofthatlook after so long does something to me.
“The rules of fair play don’t factor in love and war,” I say.
He drags me scandalously close so that my breasts brush his hard chest, making me quiver. “Then I suppose I’ll have to change my strategy.”
I gasp. “Roshan, people are staring.”
“Let them.”
My cheeks flame, but deep down, I want him to hold me tighter, to be the gardener I remember, the one who didn’t care about propriety or royal etiquette. Conscious of the many pairs of eyes fixed on us—some filled with delight at the king’s unusual whimsy, a few with evident, undisguised jealousy, and others with guarded wariness at the deadly weapon in their midst—I let our avid audience fade away until it’s just the two of us in the room.
If I close my eyes, it almost feels like our first time.
***
GODS,IWANTto punch Roshan in his supercilious, controlling, kingly face. How does one go from adoration to aggravation in the space of a handful of days?
“For the love of Saru, I don’t require a twelve-guard escort to go to my training with Aran!” I insist, watching as the full dozen of his kingsguard settle in place behind me. “We’re in the palace, and it’s your cousin.” I point through the window to the second turret. “His quarters are right over there. We’re supposed to meet in the arena to practice bladework and offensive runes. We aren’t even leaving the grounds.”
The king tilts his chin, impatience flashing in his eyes. “When I was with the Dahaka, our spies infiltrated the palace all the time. And change of plans, you’re not to go to the arena. He’ll meet you behind the south tower. You’ll work on something else today.”
His abrupt high-handedness is maddening—but I’m suddenly more curious about the arena. “Why?” I ask. “What’s happening?”
If I weren’t looking directly at him, I would have missed the clenching of his jaw and the dark flicker of annoyance at being questioned in his eyes. He shakes his head. “The azdaha has become increasingly violent and restless. Your magic might incite the beast.”
“The... the azdaha is still here?” I ask, completely taken aback that he even told me the truth for once instead of his usual prevarication.
Dazedly, I recall the poor, captured creature from the arena that Javed used as a macabre sorting tool for his bride trials, culling the weak from the strong in an effort to draw out the Starkeeper. Of course, I hadn’t known it was me then.
So many innocent women had died trying to escape the near-feral beast that had been starved and tortured to within an inch of its life. I remember the visceral connection I’d felt... when the ancient akasha flowing in its veins had sung to mine.
Pity curls within me at the thought of the poor creature that should be flying free in its own realm locked in a cell somewhere.
“I thought you had sent it back to the northern lands,” I say, frowning.
“It was not possible. The terms of peace have changed and our borders with Everlea are no longer secure.”
My frown deepens. This is news to me. “What does that mean? Since when?”
Stories about Everlea—the realm ruled by the purported nightmare king to the far north, the land with vast rolling plains occupied by fierce hordes, broad flowing rivers, and bottomless lakes, as well as its shining capital city of Verisia—are rampant in Oryndhr. Our borders have always been protected, if not by natural barriers like the Barrin Mountains, then by strict laws forbidding trade or travel.
A muscle leaps to life in Roshan’s rigid cheek, and I wonder if he’ll refuse to answer this time. But then his tight expression calms. “We are not only on the verge of a two-pronged civil war, with the nobles attacking from one side and the Scavs on the other, Suraya; we’re at risk of one with the Everlean king, a war my brother started by hunting these creatures in the first place. Nightsong is adamant on the beast’s safe return.”
“Nightsong?”
“Their sovereign. The reports about him are fearsome. His people live under tyranny and are punished for even speaking against his reign. I’m only trying to protect us so that Oryndhrians are safe from reprisal should our lands be breached.”
It’s more than I expected him to say, but I am eager to continue the first open conversation we’ve had in weeks on anything concerning the realm. “Can’t we just send the azdaha back and avoid war that way?”
“It’s too late for that because the creature is dying. In its current condition, war will be declared before we can blink.”
“What?” I ask. “How is itdying?”
He shakes his head. “We do not know.”
“Roshan, you have to return it and explain your position to the king. Surely he’ll listen before condemning an entire realm to death in retaliation.”
