Chapter 13
Thirteen
RAELLE
The reflection staring back at me is unrecognizable.
Her skin is too pale. The freckles kissing her cheeks and nose have faded to a dull brown.
The tunic and trousers she wore weeks ago hang from her frame.
When she tilts her head from side to side, I cringe at the sharpness of her once round cheeks.
Dark circles rest below her eyes, and her hair hangs in stringy strands past her shoulders.
I didn’t notice the changes while in Allaji, but now I see that I was slowly withering away.
With a sigh, I dip my hands into the washbasin and scrub my face.
It’s the third time I’ve washed my skin.
I woke up this morning with the overwhelming need to make myself clean of any remnants of Allaji.
The rational part of my brain tells me I have done all I can and now I just need to give myself time to let the memories fade.
But another side doesn’t want so much of a speck of dust from the island to follow me home.
If it does, it will taint those I love the most.
I dry my face with the damp towel and look at myself again. This time my reflection is not alone in the small round mirror. Kyron leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. “We should reach the port in the next hour.”
“I can’t wait,” I say, the words feeling like sand in my mouth.
I haven’t ventured out of this room since I woke up.
Kyron and I spent yesterday in bed, snuggled against each other.
He fell asleep minutes after our kiss, and I spent hours staring at him.
We were safe within these walls. There were no questions to answer or consequences for our actions to face.
Families weren’t torn apart in this small room and an imminent war didn’t exist. No crowns, no angry deity, just Raelle and Kyron.
I gather my hair to the nape of my neck and try to wrap it in place with a leather tie. My hands shake with nerves, and I lose my grip twice. Groaning, I toss the tie onto the counter and press my fingers to my eyes.
Kyron moves behind me until his chest is to my back. “May I?” he asks.
I look at him over my shoulder and nod, grateful for the help.
He separates my hair into three sections and sets to work braiding it.
I close my eyes and enjoy the gentle tug.
It feels good to give him control. For too many days, the wrong person ruled over me.
They didn’t treat me with respect and saw me as nothing more than a possession to dangle in front of their court.
Everything I did was to keep hold of the smallest pieces of me—every breath, every word, every movement.
I’m finally at peace knowing I’m in safe hands.
After tying the end of the braid, he guides me to face him and smooths down the tiny hairs framing my face. “No one expects you to walk off this ship like nothing happened to you,” he says, the words quiet but steady.
I shake my head and swallow past the lump growing in my throat. “No, but they’ll look to me for hope. If they see me as a survivor, they can continue to believe the same for their loved ones. I need to show those families that Zek hasn’t won.”
“You’re better at this than me,” he says.
“Better at what?”
He reaches for a strand of hair next to my cheek and twirls it around his finger. “Leading. Giving hope. Being what Pliris needs.”
“Says the man who led the Lucent army. I know what you’re capable of. Ruling is your calling, Your Majesty.”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes.
His words from yesterday repeat in my head: I’m not a good ruler.
How can a man who so easily fell into his role as general struggle to lead a kingdom?
He has marched an entire army to war and gained the loyalty of people who should have feared him as a Stigian.
He knows when to exercise authority and extend compassion.
Every attribute of a good king is one he possesses, but he doesn’t seem to see it that way.
“You really see yourself as an incompetent king,” I say.
“Our kingdom is a mess because of me. People are still divided over syphoning, saving the Cyffred, and fighting the Allaji. The only thing they can agree on is that I’m not giving my all to the kingdom.
And they’re right. I’ve been nothing but single-minded since Zekel took you.
If it weren’t for Borin and Abrum, things would be worse. ”
I hate his self-doubt. Like anyone in his position would, he questions himself, but I’ve never seen him like this.
Too many voices are drowning his confidence.
It will take time to convince our people they’re wrong, but I can begin combatting the voice in his head now.
It’s lying to him, and it’s my job to silence it.
“I understand that people expect you to present yourself as having it all together, but those closest to you know that’s not the case.
Rulers choose advisors because they aren’t strong enough to carry the weight of an entire kingdom, and they definitely aren’t flawless.
It sounds like you’ve chosen two of the wisest men I know to guide you. ”
“I have,” he agrees.
Invigorated by my first small win, I continue, “You’re not the first ruler to be single-minded. Your mother was also single-minded in her quest to rule Stigian and Lucent. The things she did were horrific, but her kingdom still thrived because of those she trusted to advise her.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best example.”
“Maybe not.” I hold up a finger, letting him know I’m not done making my case. “You said I’m better at this, but do you think if roles were reversed that I wouldn’t have only focused on you?” I grip his jaw and look him in the eyes. “I would have done whatever it took to bring you home.”
“I can’t do this on my own, Raelle.”
I slide my hand to the back of his neck and say, “You’re not alone. I’m here.”
He leans forward, places a kiss on my forehead.
“I really hope you didn’t rescue me just for my guidance as a past ruler,” I say, and his lips pull into a smile against my skin.
“Your insight as Lucent’s queen for mere days is invaluable.”
I pull back and grin up at him. “Look at that. Not only is Pliris’ king smart and handsome, but he tells jokes too.”
“My witty personality wins people over.”
I glide my thumb over his lips and say, “I would have bet it was your vibrant sense of fashion or that death-glare you give when someone doesn’t follow your directions exactly how you ordered them.”
“First of all,” he kisses the pad of my thumb, “there’s nothing wrong with preferring to wear black.
Not all of us can make a jewel encrusted gown with a plunging neckline look good.
Second, I reserve the death-glare you speak of for one runaway princess.
Mind you, she thought tea sipping and dinner parties had prepared her to lead trained killers into enemy territory. I had a reason to glare.”
My heart flutters, and I can’t fight my smile. This is the easy stuff. The moments I once anticipated with Kyron. We still have a journey before us, but we have just regained a small piece of our normal.
I stand on my tiptoes and brush my lips against his. “Yet, you were the first to cave to her demands, and you even placed her before your king.”
“I don’t regret it, and I still bow to no one but you.”
“Is that so, Your Majesty?”
He lowers to the ground, kneeling before me with his hands on my hips. All playfulness leaves his face, replaced with complete adoration. “You’re my queen, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. And the view? It’s beautiful from down here.”
“It’s breathtaking from here as well,” I say, combing my fingers through his smooth hair.
He presses a kiss to my stomach, his breath warm through the thin fabric of my tunic. My eyes flutter shut, and I cup the back of his head, holding him to me. His fingers inch under my shirt, and he lifts it enough to brush his lips over the sensitive skin just above the waist of my pants.
“I missed worshiping you like this, Raelle. Did you miss it too?”
“Yes,” I whisper, leaning against the basin and spreading my legs to make room for him.
He pulls the bow at the top of my breeches and sinks his finger behind the thin leather lace, sliding it through the first eyelets.
He leans in and kisses the newly exposed skin.
“I missed feeling you tremble, the taste of you on my tongue, and”—he unlaces my pants more and slides his thumb inside—“feeling how wet you are for me.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, clenching the edge of the basin and tilting my head back.
“Eyes on me, princess. I need you to look at me as you tell me if you want this.”
I don’t so much as blink as I say, “I do. I want your mouth on me.”
One side of his mouth tilts up in a satisfied smirk. “Good girl. Don’t look away. I want you to watch everything I do to you.”
I obey his order as he pulls the last of the lace free. My legs shake as he lowers my pants, abandoning them at mid-thigh. He slides a finger through my wet center and brings the glistening tip to his mouth. My breath hitches as he licks it clean.
“Do I taste like you remember?” I ask.
He kisses just above my slit, the tip of his tongue slipping out to steal a taste of my skin. “Better. So much better.”
He’s so close to where I need him, teasing me with the promise of what’s to come. I ache to feel the stroke of his tongue gliding through me and his mouth sucking my clit. Threading my hands in his hair, I press down on the top of his head.
“Please taste me,” I beg.
His lips turn into a wicked smile. “That’s my good girl. Let me hear you beg again.”
My frustration and desire get the better of me. I grip his hair and tilt his head back. Enunciating each word, I say, “Put your mouth on me.”