Chapter Six #2
He crouches down beside me. A part of me screams for me to get up and run, to lash out and immobilize him, to fight for my life, but another part is too heartsick to care.
“I won’t allow you to put yourself in danger,” he says.
“It’s only for a short while, you’ll see.
I’ll take you to Coban myself when things settle down. I promise.”
“You’re a liar,” I say. “And I will never forgive you for this.”
“Then that’s a chance I’ll have to take,” he says quietly. “My duty is to my people first. To Oryndhr. The oaths of a king come before anything else.”
“And what about your promises to me?” I ask, risking a glance at him. “To never hurt me or lie to me again.”
“I’m not lying,” he replies, his words calm, as if I’m somehow the irrational one. “That’s why I’m being honest with you about what needs to be done.”
I exhale a shuddery breath. “Putting me in irons?”
“Suraya—”
“Don’t,” I tell him. “I don’t need your platitudes or creative omissions. We could have done this together instead of you shutting me out at every turn.”
“You’re common born, Suraya, from a remote village,” he says in a cool, imperious tone that shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
“How could you even understand court politics? Or how easily my enemies can snatch you and use you against me. The nobles still don’t trust me.
Even now, after everything, Antares is plotting to dethrone me. ” He clenches his jaw.
“Common born doesn’t mean lacking in common sense,” I reply. “You want me to blindly obey, is that it? Defer to your better judgment?”
His expression is unyielding. “In the matter of your welfare and the realm’s safety, yes. I am the king.”
“So you keep saying.”
Sands, I didn’t think my heart could crack any further, but the hits keep coming.
Soon the pulverized organ in my chest will be nothing but dust. I lift an arm, watching the lamplight glint off the jādū hammered into the metal.
I glance over at Aran, who has remained silent where he stands on the far side of the bedroom.
It’s clear now he was the magi to engineer these cuffs—he’s the only one who could have.
“How did you do it?” I ask. “Control the Starkeeper magic?”
“My blood,” Roshan answers.
I blink. That doesn’t make sense. His blood has no magic—my simurgh would have known if any dormant power of his had awakened. Then the truth hits me like a kick to the face. Traces of my magic are in his veins, and somehow, he’s using that against me. The sheer audacity has me vibrating with rage.
“You bastard!” I snarl, flying up at him, my fists pounding into his chest. “How could you?”
I want to carve his heart out of his body, the way mine has been. Nearly mindless with fury, I lunge for the dagger in his belt and swing wildly in his direction. My magic might be bound, but I have no intention of going down without a fight. Not like this.
The king dodges my strike and unsheathes his sword.
I attack again with a violent thrust. This time he parries, avoiding my blow and catching my steel with the edge of his own blade.
We’ve sparred like this a thousand times, though never with intent to harm.
At the sound of clashing metal, his guards immediately appear, and he holds up a hand.
“Get the fuck out. You, too, Aran.” Roshan doesn’t look at them. He stares at me over his blade.
The guards retreat slowly, Aran last to depart with a reluctant glance.
“You don’t want to do this, Sura,” Roshan says when the room is empty.
I smile viciously. “Oh, but I really do. I want to make you bleed.”
He goes preternaturally still. “That sounds like a threat, Starkeeper. Either you’re with me or against me.” With the ease of a born warrior, he points the tip of his weapon to me and disarms me in a single move, the dagger flying out of my grip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
My stupid eyes sting again, even as my magic roils like a trapped hurricane in a bottle. Gods, how did we get here? How did I become this? Caught in a snare I’d waltzed into with my eyes wide open. He’d promised never to use me . . . and he’d broken that promise.
“Too fucking late.” Unable to look at him and unable to stomach the heartache, I move toward my bed. “If you don’t undo this,” I say brokenly, “this will be the end of us.”
“It’s for the greater good,” he says. “I need you, and I need you alive and whole. If you have to hate me for protecting you and keeping you safe from yourself, then that shall be a cost I’ll gladly bear.”
“You’re not protecting me, you’re protecting yourself!” I turn and cry, feeling every last remaining hope inside of me dissipate all at once. “You gave me your vow, Roshan.”
“And I’ll keep it, when my kingdom is at peace.”
A pervasive sense of dread creeps over me at the finality in his tone.
Nothing I say will change his mind. How many months—or even years—will I be like this?
A weapon at his mercy. His to control, his to wield, in his desire for peace?
Or worse, his version of peace, with its constantly shifting end?
“Power will destroy you,” I say, the words emerging before I can curb them. “It will eat away at anything that makes you the man you used to be and turn you into a monster. Just like Javed.”
“I’m nothing like him.”
“Aren’t you? The Roshan I knew—the man I loved—never would have done this,” I say. “He never would have tricked or caged me.”
We stare at each other, the rift between us widening with each strained breath. For a moment, a sliver of the old Roshan is there as his eyes gloss over with something like agony, but that glimmer of humanity is quickly eclipsed by that deadened stare I’ve come to hate.
He doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turns and walks to the threshold. “When you’ve sufficiently calmed and understand what’s at stake, the guards will release you.”
I bare my teeth at him like a wounded animal. “Didn’t you hear what I said? We’re fucking finished!”
“You’re overwrought and need time to think things through.
We can speak later when you’re not so upset.
” He pauses, but I can barely get past his utter dismissal, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
My inability to speak must seem like some kind of passive acceptance, because he gives me a tight-lipped nod.
“Whatever you may think, Suraya, you’re not my prisoner. ”
“Then let me go,” I bite out.
The king slams his hand against the doorjamb, a darkly possessive rage transforming his features.
The expression on his face is bone-chilling, spectral flames exploding in his eyes.
He looks like a monster from the void before he strides away, the door crashing shut.
I hear the lock turning in the keyhole, the click deafening in the silence.
“Fuck!” I scream, and smash my forearms into the nearest wall. I curse as the stinging ache reverberates through my bones and then burst into unhinged laughter as I sink to my haunches and stare at the bracers. There’s not even a dent in the metal.
“Vena?” I call out desperately. “Vena, are you there? I need you. Please, I need your help.”
But there’s no answer.
I am alone.