Chapter Thirty-Five
ROSHAN ACHARIA,
KING OF ORYNDHR
My heart feels so full and so bright. It beats the song of perpetual hope, and each beat is for her. The one whose fierce, benevolent spirit I crushed with his cruelty.
The love of my life.
Stars above, I remember everything: her laughter, her joy, her divinity when she shattered in my arms, her passion, the adoration in her beautiful gray eyes, and, by the maker, her love .
. . and then her confusion, her sorrow, the way she looked when I shackled her, her hurt, her pain, her disappointment .
. . and finally, her loathing for the monstrous creature I embodied.
And then she ran.
He had been furious, but I’d been secretly victorious.
My desert starling deserved to be free.
I cursed the rot that ate away at my humanity, and every day as I grew smaller, I guarded the spark she’d given me with everything I had. I would hold on to my Starkeeper’s precious light to the last—she would be the final and only thing I saw until death took me.
And then she came and drew the rot out. Saved me . . . again.
But she is no longer mine.
She is . . . his.
Pain blooms like razor-petaled roses.
He’s the one who gave you my power so you could live, a voice says, and I shiver at the sheer divine might of it.
“Saru?” I whisper, and rub at my bare chest. I look down at the golden starburst that had appeared out of nowhere—the god of light’s symbol—as it glows softly.
I’m still getting used to my new form, a form that feels slightly less mortal.
While the god of death’s rot devoured me, the god of creation’s light empowers me.
In part, yes.
“I thank you for your gift.”
Thank my nephew, he says. Darrius would not have done it if he did not believe you were worthy of it. Nor would you have been able to accept my gift without akasha of your own.
Shocked, I blink. “I have magic?”
Your parents were soul-fated—one blessed by Huma and one blessed by me. Sometimes our bloodlines are dormant for reasons beyond our comprehension. Saru sighs softly. But now, you will survive because of it and return to your Starkeeper, who also found you worthy. Twice.
My throat thickens. “That’s just it, I’m not worthy.” Sorrow makes my voice break. “Not of her, at least. I’ve hurt her irreparably.”
My twin’s power is hard to defeat. Even I was cast into god-sleep when I banished him.
“I should have fought harder.”
Fight now. Fight for the future you both deserve.
I frown. “But she chose him.”
The god’s laughter echoes like bells. No, child. Darrius is her soul-fated, they were chosen for each other by their magic and the Royal Stars. But love isn’t always fated; love can also be a choice. You were freely hers. I feel his light cast warmly over me. So choose her in return.
“How?” My frown deepens, hope and despair twining within. “I don’t understand. How can I share her with another? I can’t fight a soul-fated bond.”
Do you love her?
“Yes.”
Does she love you?
“I hope she does.”
Then that is all that matters. There is no sharing. There is only giving.
***
It feels strange to be back in the palace in Kaldari.
Even stranger to be in full possession of myself as king.
My heels tap along the marble floors as people bow, their expressions still fearful as if they expect the monster to return at any point. It hurts my heart to see how I’ve lost the trust of even the servants who have worked in the palace since I was a boy.
When Fero had been in my body, it had felt like I had become nothing but a passenger. Or more aptly, a hostage, who was incapable of resisting.
I remember everything clearly, which makes my actions hard to conceive and forgive.
There are times when I wish I could forget how vicious and ruthless he was, when he removed his opposition—nobles and aldermen I had known for years—simply because they spoke up against me.
Or when I used her . . . like a tool. A weapon of destruction.
Gods . . .
I find my way back to our shared bedchamber and stare at the bed where we’d held hands and confessed our dreams and our darkest secrets, whispered our fears and our fragile hopes for the future.
Where we’d kissed and made love endlessly, and I’d proven my heartfelt dedication over every inch of that perfect body.
Where we’d been wrapped in each other’s arms and murmured cherished words of adoration and love.
Stroking the silken counterpane, I exhale and press against my chest, the ache there almost too much to bear.
I remember her sweet, unhinged laughter when I tickled her and the wicked promises in her eyes when she threatened to get me back .
. . her magic torturing me for hours in the center of this very bed.
I recall the devotion in her eyes as she curled up and spoke of her beloved family, and the ephemeral warmth of those iridescent ribbons—dancing and playful—a complete, natural extension of her.
I ruined those things. Lost those things.
I feel my eyes burn with the shame of it, a pounding taking up residence between my temples.
She had stayed for so long, even while I’d become a monster worse than my brother had been .
. . until I had given her no choice but to run from me.
Ashes, could I have fucked this up any more?
I love her . . . but will she be able to ever love me back? Ever forgive me?
“Roshan?”
Her voice is low, and I let the rich sound of it fill me and give me courage. Sometimes the only way past something is through. Fero’s actions might not have been mine, but she had still been hurt because of them.
I swallow and turn. Slowly, reverentially, I let my eyes drift over her: the light on her beautiful face, the luminous glow of her skin, the wild, tumbling wealth of silver-streaked hair, and that tremulous smile. Stars, I’ve missed her.
“Starling,” I whisper, mapping every single one of her beloved features and drinking her in as if she’s my sole reason for living. She is. She has always been.
“What are you doing?” she asks, walking over to me. “You’re going to be late to address your council.”
“There’s something I need to say to you first,” I say, voice thick.
Compassion blooms in those pretty gray eyes—there she is again, trying to safeguard me from myself, trying to absolve me. “I know, Ro. I felt it all. You don’t have to relive any of it.”
“I want to.” I reach for her palms and wait for her to place them in mine.
I stroke their warm centers, grazing lines I’ve traced a thousand times.
“You were always my spark of light when I was lost in the darkness. I’m so sorry for everything.
I tried, you know. To fight him. I just couldn’t win. Thank you for believing in me.”
She bites her lip, cheeks flushing. “I’m not that selfless, Ro. Don’t make me out to be some kind of martyr. I thought you were lost. I gave up.”
“And I gave you no choice. Sometimes you have to let go of a sinking stone or risk being submerged yourself. I’m glad you did.” I swallow past the thickening knot in my throat, my voice cracking. “I’m glad you found someone whom you deserve . . . who deserves you.”
A frown forms on her brow. “What do you mean?”
“You’re married now,” I say. “Soul-fated to the king of Everlea, the man who saved my life. Or did I get that wrong?”
“You didn’t,” she replies quietly.
“Do you love him?”
Her eyelashes flutter. “Yes.”
A stabbing sort of agony pierces my chest at the thought of her in the arms of someone else . . . in the arms of a king who isn’t me . . . laughing with him . . . loving him. A person whom the fates and the gods had chosen for her. But Saru had said that I still have a chance.
Real love doesn’t have limits or constraints.
Love is whatever one needs it to be.
Tentatively, I pull her closer, reading her cues with trepidation, but she comes willingly and lets out a contented sigh once she’s cradled against my chest. It feels so good to hold her. Her sweet jasmine scent blooms in my nose, and I breathe her in like she’s the only air I need to exist.
I tip her chin up, fingers feathering over her smooth jaw. “I hope we can find our way back to each other one day. Even if I might not deserve your forgiveness, even if I am much too late to make amends, I won’t stop trying.”
“It was never truly you doing those horrible things, Ro,” she whispers, those beautiful gray eyes holding mine.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” She rises onto her toes and presses her lips to mine in a sweet, chaste kiss for the briefest of seconds before she pulls away.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” she says, blushing when she sees my astonishment.
“Why?” I ask hoarsely.
“I don’t even know if this is what you want . . .”
“Make no mistake, my starling, I’ll always want.”
Pressing her flush against me with a groan, I cup her jaw in both hands, threading my fingers through the mass of her hair, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones.
Her lips part in unconscious invitation, and I claim her mouth with all the love and hope I have in my heart.
She moans as her tongue sweeps hungrily along mine, and I devour her taste like a man starved.
The kiss feels like coming home.