Deven props his head under his hand and observes me closely. A full beard blankets his jaw. “How do you feel?”
“Like a washcloth wrung and hung to dry.” I tip my forehead against his, inhaling his sandalwood scent. Home. “Are you all right?”
Emotions stream across his face: relief, joy, and yearning that stirs an ache inside me. “I missed you.”
His low voice eases through me like a warm drink. He cups my chin, and his tender lips seek mine. My nerve endings spark with happiness. Deven shifts closer and packs all of his longing into deepening our kiss. I drown in him, my dull pain replaced with singing pleasure. Forgetting my injuries, I reach up to finger his full beard, and my injured side pinches. I gasp, and he pulls away, apologizing.
“I’m fine.” I kiss him again for proof. As I lean away, I notice Ashwin gazing in the window at us. Anguish tarnishes the prince’s handsome face, and my own expression falls.
Deven turns to look behind him, and the prince rushes off. I consider calling Ashwin back, but anything I say will only hurt him more. I do not care for him the same way I do for Deven, but I do care.
Deven turns back to me and touches Ashwin’s cuff around my wrist, his gaze cool and reserved. “Did you promise yourself to him?”
“I’m not promised to anyone. Ashwin and I are friends.”
“He wants you to be more.”
Deven’s jealousy exasperates me. “You hardly know him.”
“I know he cannot be trusted. He unleashed the Voider.”
I understand how Ashwin’s actions could be seen as a betrayal, but Deven is wrong to blame him. “He had no choice. The vizier had started the incantation and wouldn’t stop until it was finished. Ashwin couldn’t have foreseen who the Voider would return as.” An image of Tarek throwing blue fire fills my mind, and dread threatens to throttle me. But I do not blame Ashwin for the physical form the Voider took. “I trust Ashwin. He respects me, and he isn’t afraid of my powers.”
Deven tempers his voice. “I’m not afraid of you either. When I saw you flying on that fire dragon, you nearly stopped my heart.”
“With fear?”
“Admiration. You were spectacular.” He caresses my chin. “I’m proud of you.”
His praise itches in an uncomfortable place. “I’m only one-quarter bhuta,” I confess. “The Janardanians have a myth that Ki and Kur were lovers and had a child together. I didn’t believe it at first, but it’s true. Enlil is Kur’s son.”
“If you’re right, all that means is that you’re equally bhuta and demon.”
Deven’s answer is terribly inconclusive. “So am I good or bad?” I ask.
“We’re all a little of both.” He holds my hand to his chest. “Anu claimed Enlil as his son. Regardless of who fathered the fire-god, Anu believed Enlil was good and gave his powers to mortals. You’re born from goodness, Kali. It’s in your soul.”
I remember the pain when I tried to scorch the Voider. Nothing good dwelled within it, only cold, ruthless fire. My soul-fire is not the same, and that is enough to satisfy me for now. Deven’s comfort is precisely what I needed, but I also needed him during the trial tournament. My aching for him erupts all at once, and hot tears crowd my vision.
“I’m sorry, Kali.” He lifts my hands and kisses the backs where my rank marks have faded. “I didn’t want you to leave. I was too focused on our duties to the empire.”
“I’m more than my throne.”
“Of course you are.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I love you. I thought about it a lot since we’ve been apart, and what a fool I was for not telling you.”
“Even though my hands don’t carry my rank, I’m still the kindred. I cannot desert Ashwin to save the empire alone.” Too many people died for peace, Citra being the freshest wound on my heart. Blood is on my hands, and the only way to wash it away is to earn the peace others have died for. “This is who I am. I belong to my throne.”
“And I’m still your guard.”
My fingers thread through the silken hair at his nape, my other hand roaming his soft beard. “I fell in love with my guard.”
Deven presses his forehead against mine. I graze my lips over his, and he bundles me nearer. Our kiss drowns out most of the fears hanging over us. The sunrise will bring with it preparations for war. A battle must be fought against the Voider, and we must win. But for one treasured moment, I nestle into Deven’s side and let all else be.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to the following:
Marlene Stringer, thank you for your patience with my numerous e-mails and your heartfelt enthusiasm for this book. I took a screenshot of the lovely tweet you posted right after you finished reading this manuscript and will keep it forever. Thank you for continuing to be amazed.
Thank you to the best editor I could have asked for, Jason Kirk, for jumping on board with this next installment of my characters and world. Your guidance and unfailing support are a dream come true. I’m thankful for Clarence Hayes, who helps me dig out the heart of my story and polish it to a shine. Also, thank you to everyone else at Skyscape and Amazon Publishing, especially Brittany and Kim. I am grateful to work with your amazing team.
Kate Coursey (rhymes with “horsey”), thank you for loving something I thought was unlovable and handling my stress texts with admirable grace. Kathryn Purdie, thank you for your love, understanding, and much-needed line edits. Tricia Levenseller, thank you for advising me to stick to the story I originally envisioned.
Thank you to my fabulous crew of talented supporters: Angie Cothran, Erin Summerill, Veeda Bybee, Lauri Schoenfeld, Kate Watson, Michelle Wilson, Breeana Shields, Rebekah Crane, Shaila Patel, Charlie N. Holmberg, and Becky Wallace. Your texts, IMs, and phone calls bring me joy. Thank you.
Michal Cameron and Catherine Dowse, thank you for your excitement and awe. Jessie Farr, my self-proclaimed handmaiden and on-the-side editor, thank you. I’m grateful for my primary group: Cassidi Mecham, Kate Morehead, Gloria Wright, and Brenda Hartvigsen.
Thank you to my mom and dad, for being my top cheerleaders. I adore you both. For Eve and Chris, you are my favorites (ha ha).
John and our four kiddos, Joseph, Julian, Danielle, and Ryan, you inspire me to do better. Thanks for putting up with the long hours, quick meals, and spastic mood swings. I could not do this without you.
My lovely readers, I am your biggest fan.
Lastly but most importantly, my father in heaven, thanks for making all of this possible.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Erin Summerill
Emily R. King is a writer of fantasy and the author of The Hundredth Queen. Born in Canada and raised in the United States, she has perfected the use of eh and y’all and uses both interchangeably. Shark advocate, consumer of gummy bears, and islander at heart, Emily’s greatest interests are her four children. She’s a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and an active participant in her local writers’ community. She lives in Northern Utah with her family and their cantankerous cat. Visit her at www.emilyrking.com.
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