Chapter One
Coban is hot. Desert hot.
I can’t help the grin that breaks over my face as the dry wind hits my cheek when we step through the enormous shimmering portal.
Of course, it’s nothing like the first time I used a portal to travel to the capital city of Kaldari for Prince Javed’s bride contest—or the last time, when I came back alone to say goodbye to my father and Amma.
Sands, the invitation that had changed my life seems like a lifetime ago.
I suppose it is. I’m a different woman now. A magi. Powerful in my own right with the magic of the stars at my fingertips. Silvery iridescence flickers over my knuckles as the simurgh inside of me stirs, sensing my joy.
We’re here. Finally.
It feels as though a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I breathe in the desert air like someone deprived of oxygen for years.
The noise of the village hits me then as cheers of welcome rend the air.
The smell of sweet incense infuses the village as we step into the decorated market square.
Connected garlands of flowers stretch across the space, and colorful yellow and orange marigold petals litter the ground wherever we tread.
I can barely see over the heads of the men marching in front of me, but my heart knows that it’s home.
Instead of the single runecaster and dozen guards I’d had before, I now arrive in the presence of the king of Oryndhr.
King Roshan Acharia, First of His Name. Illegitimate son of the former sovereign, King Zarek.
Brother to the deceased regent Javed, the despotic ruler who sought to bring back the worst of the old gods by using me.
Me, Suraya Saab, the prophesized Starkeeper.
The only natural source of true magic in Oryndhr for centuries.
As a result, we are accompanied by several dozen imperial soldiers, six runecasters, the full might of the entire kingsguard, and a handful of attendants.
The guards are all armed to the teeth with jādū-forged weapons, not that we expect any kind of attack from the people of my simple village, but one can never be too careful.
I’m no longer the humble tavern girl who had never left the desert.
In fact, I’ve seen enough of Oryndhr to make me want to settle down for a while and just enjoy the tranquility of being still.
Though there doesn’t seem to be any sign of that happening in the immediate future, not with this royal tour of the realm.
It’s a necessary show of strength to the four noble houses, that much is clear.
Coban is the first stop, but the bigger cities are still to come.
I’m still hoping that I can get out of that; Roshan doesn’t need me.
“Suraya! Sura, over here!”
I turn wildly, searching through the faces surrounding us, and ignore the barked warning of the commander of the guard—Hamid, formerly the leader of the now dissolved Dahaka—to propel myself into my father’s arms. Amma is next, her round face already wet with tears.
Mine are quick to follow as I inhale her delicious, familiar scent of wood, baking bread, and spices.
“Stars, I’ve missed you both so much!”
“My lady,” Hamid says, looming behind me, narrowed eyes on my father. “Please get behind the guards with His Majesty. It’s not safe.”
I frown. “This is my home. I have nothing to fear here.”
“It’s the king’s command,” Hamid insists.
“Fine.” I want to roll my eyes, but Roshan’s protectiveness is nothing new. In fact, I usually enjoy having the gratifying sole focus of his attention, especially after we’d nearly lost each other, but sometimes it can be excessive.
With an apologetic look to Papa and Amma, I comply, moving closer to where Roshan is being greeted by the effusive alderman of Coban.
The local representative takes both of my hands in his and bows.
I don’t remember him ever being so friendly to me, but being in the presence of royalty will have that effect.
As we are led to the village hall, once more surrounded by Hamid and his very efficient kingsguard, most of whom are trusted senior officers from the Dahaka, I glance over at Roshan, who is immaculately dressed in his ceremonial golden-threaded, amethyst-hued robes.
My heart instantly beats a little faster. Sands, he’s so handsome.
His dark hair is brushed back from his brow and his eyes are lined with kohl.
An elegant dusting of gold shimmers across his high cheekbones, enhancing their sharpness even more.
The faintest hint of dark stubble over his hard jaw brackets that sultry and very talented mouth—the one he’d used earlier that morning to my utter ruin—making me catch my breath.
The memory of those lips nearly makes my knees buckle.
His head swivels, and his golden-brown gaze slams into mine.
“Stop it,” he whispers. The mouth that I’d been thirstily staring at curls into a smirk.
“Stop what?” I ask.
“Ogling me like I’m a sweetmeat.”
I can’t help the snicker that erupts from me. “I was not.” I totally was.
“Behave, my starling,” he says softly, though his eyes convey the opposite.
He loves it when I defy him, and besides, he knows what that directive does to me.
I despise being told what to do, even by the man I’ve accepted as my sovereign, but in public, the rules of being the future royal consort apply, which means I must be demure.
Or at least try to be. That was the promise I made, anyway.
“As you wish, my king.”
Edging out of reach, I lower my lashes as a tendril of my magic wisps across his shoulders, down his muscular back, and over his tight rear.
He gasps, which he covers up with a cough, causing a solicitous attendant to dash up with a cup of water.
Impishly, I don’t relent, sending the sinful stroke of magic down his leg and then back up, winding my way around his knee, over a rock-hard flexed thigh . . . and higher . . .
“Sura.” His warning is a gravelly rasp as my invisible, playful touch inches upward, nearly to where we both desire it the most. “Your family,” he grits out.
“What about them, Your Majesty?” I ask innocently, and widen my eyes with concern.
“They’ve gone ahead. Is everything well?
” I fight the urge to bite my lip at the strained look on his face.
We’ve toyed with my magic before in the bedchamber, though never in public, and the power I feel over my poor, tortured king in this moment is practically indecent.
With no one else the wiser, I shift to cup his rapidly stiffening length beneath his silk trousers and groan at the feel of him, even via my magic.
Holding his gaze, I indulge in a long stroke.
Roshan stumbles and hunches over, the back of his neck going crimson and the veins in sharp relief on his forearms.
“Your Majesty!” General Clem Jinn, one of my few friends and Hamid’s second-in-command, shouts. “Guards, formation! To the king!”
As the guards form a defensive circle around us, I crouch down, peering up at him with a sweet, solicitous smile. He sees right through my act, glittering eyes that promise vengeance meeting mine.
“You don’t like it when I behave, Ro,” I whisper, my breath grazing his ear.
He chuckles. “Stars, what compelled me to fall in love with a magical sadist?”
“I don’t know,” I reply cheekily. “Why did you?”
I stand up to shoot a glance at Clem, who has hurried over but still stands a respectable distance away to respect our privacy, her face stern as she scans the surrounding area for threats.
I’d met Clem during the games for the competition for the former prince’s hand.
Two outsiders, we’d bonded quickly, only for me to discover later on that she’d been one of Roshan’s inner circle and part of the Dahaka.
Her deceit had been a hard blow, but I understood the pull of duty and her loyalty to her cause above all else.
It didn’t mean our friendship wasn’t real, and I’d chosen to forgive her just as I had Roshan.
I pat her shoulder. “It’s nothing, don’t worry. He has a cramp from an injury. Give him a minute.”
She frowns. “When was he injured?”
“Er, yesterday?” My brain whirls. “During training.”
“He didn’t have training yesterday,” she says. “He was in the forge, if I recall, with you. Did something happen there?”
I blink and inhale a suddenly shallow breath. Oh, something did happen. The king and I had thoroughly defiled almost every available surface in the castle forge to the point where I’d sustained temporary minor burns on my backside that had healed immediately.
Worth it.
It’s my turn to blush when a smug Roshan stands and lifts his brows, finally able to rise without an embarrassing tent in his trousers. “Yes, Sura, did something happen?”
Clem’s gaze dances between the two of us before she lets out an aggravated sound and rolls her eyes. “By the gods, can the two of you keep it in your pants for once?” she mutters, keeping her voice low so that no one else can hear.
“What can I say?” Roshan teases, winking at me. “She can’t resist me.”
“You’re an arrogant pain in the ass.” I must say it much too loudly, because someone gasps on the periphery as we resume our progress to the village hall.
We are separated once we enter, Roshan striding to the front to make his address to the townspeople.
I choose to stay near the back, ducking into a quiet corner.
I’ve heard his speech multiple times since his coronation in Kaldari: an acceptance of the transfer of power, the condemnation of the coup that had nearly decimated the Imperial House, and reassurance that the dark forces have been eradicated from Oryndhr.
For good.