He truly wanted to know. He wanted to know that his decision to become king was making a difference for the people he served.
Including me.
“Yes,” I said. “I feel safer, thanks to you.”
“No, not me.” He startled me again by lowering himself to his knees, the hem of his robe spilling across the ground at his feet. Head dipped, he said, “If this nation is truly safer, it’s thanks to you, Kang Siying. You saved my life, and you gave me the courage to accept my duty. The heavens have witnessed the eternal debt I owe you. Whatever you wish for, now and forever, I’ll grant it.”
I stared at him, at this crown prince dressed in his fine attire bowing before me. There was no false modesty here, no hint of a performance. All I felt was earnest gratitude toward me, a common priestess in a nation of millions.
If he’d made such an offer seven months ago, I would’ve asked for the world in riches. All I wanted now was a peaceful tomorrow for my family and myself.
“I wish for you to be a good king, Ren,” I said. “Be a king who’ll always listen, who trusts his people, who serves rather than takes. Honor the hope my father left with you.”
He raised his head, his smile tinged with the same remorse that permeated his letters. “I’ll do my best.”
I extended my hand and pulled him up. “Another thing. Stop blaming yourself for my father’s death. He made his choice, and I’m sure he’s pleased by yours.”
Ren nodded, still appearing somewhat resigned. I knew well that guilt wasn’t so easily removed. It’d take time for usboth to free ourselves of its dagger and allow the wounds to heal. But I didn’t mind waiting.
Smiling, I touched his cheek and forced him to look at me. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, so many thoughts and feelings I’d collected over the course of our separation. But he was crown prince now, and there were some things I could never speak, no matter how close we were. There were some doors that were best left shut.
“I’m glad you came,” I said. “I’ve missed your company.”
“That’s to be expected,” he teased. “Your life must’ve been so dull without me.”
“Oh yes.” My hand slipped down to rest on his shoulder. “Quite dull, what with a dozen pupils to teach and myriad other responsibilities to fulfill.”
He laughed. “Shall I bow to you again, as a gesture of my utter awe?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll ruin that pretty robe of yours. I’m certainly not contributing my taxes to mend that.”
“I’ve plenty of other robes to replace it.”
I arched a brow. “Are you boasting, Prince Renshu?”
“Never.” He placed his hand over mine, gazing at me with that same gentle reverence from before. “I’ve missed you too, you know. More than I could ever express in a letter.”
My skin tingled like tiny stars where he touched me. I should’ve drawn away, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to move at all.
“Be careful what you say,” I said lightly, concealing the conflict inside me. “You’ll break the hearts of your many admirers.”
He cocked his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. “It’s unlike you to be jealous.”
“It’s not that I’m jealous,” I protested with a scowl. “It’sjust—you’re crown prince, Ren. You should be considering your… alliances.”
He joined me on the step, narrowing the distance between us. My hand slipped down from his shoulder to his chest—but still, I didn’t move away.
“Alliances?” he echoed. “I’m not interested in any such thing except with a certain priestess of this monastery.”
“Ren.” I dropped my eyes to his collar, unable to bear the tenderness in his gaze. “I just don’t see how it’s possible for us to be together.”
“Then you’re not looking hard enough.” He grasped my chin and tilted my head up so I couldn’t look away. His eyes were so warm and dark. “There is no one else but you. The world we both want—it’s impossible without you by my side.”
“But—”
“I won’t take any excuses.” His smile faltered just a bit. “Unless, of course, your reason is that you don’t feel the same.”
“I…”
