As the king sipped his tea, his gaze remained on JingYi. “Discipline and its consequences are universal concerns for rulers,” he said. “We must speak more of your homeland’s . . . governance another time, Healer. I find myself curious.”
JingYi bowed her head, the words feeling less like an invitation and more like a quiet sentence suspended over her.Another time.
Reiyana gracefully intervened, her voice warm but final, “Well, before any more governance, I have plans.” She turned to JingYi, her expression softening. “I’d like to go to Luneth’s temple. I promised I’d burn incense this week.”
JingYi’s chest pulled tight. The goddess of Omegas—a figure she’d never known how to pray to, a symbol of the very nature that had both saved and sentenced her.
Reiyana’s hand rested on her belly. “And after that,” she added, her eyes sparkling, “we are getting lemon ices from the market. I’ve been craving them since yesterday.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” JingYi kept her voice level. “As long as you promise to rest this afternoon before the ball tonight.”
The princess gave an airy laugh. “It’s still early. I’ll rest later.”
As they left the dining hall and moved into the sunlit corridor, her hand drifted absently just below her navel. So quickly did the gesture become familiar, a silent question she was afraid to answer.
If she was with child . . .
“You’ll love the lemon ices,” Reiyana chatted beside her as they walked. “The vendor presses the lemons himself. They taste like pure sunlight.”
JingYi nodded, but her mind refused to stay still. As they descended toward the courtyard where their escort waited, she caught a glimpse of the sea beyond the palace walls, glittering under the midday sun.
Without realizing it, her lips formed a breathless word into the salt-tinged air, even if she didn’t know what she wished for.
Please.
CHAPTER 41
ALEXANDER
Alexander stood at the ship’s bow as Aethonia came into view, scanning for raven hair catching the light, obsidian eyes widening with surprise. Anything to end the torment of not knowing where she had gone.
There was no sign of her on the dock. No proof she was here either.
But if his reasoning was sound, she’d try to reach Bashkor. To find her there, he would need help navigating its layers of secrets.
Kaelendrin and Alarik had gone in and out of Bashkor since adulthood. If nothing else, his cousin had a talent for inserting himself into other people’s business. Newly married to the Aethonian princess, Kaelen might be able to imagine—at least a little—what it felt like to lose one’s wife.
He headed uphill toward the palace. The guards recognized his crest before his name. He’d been here not even a year ago, after all, competing for Princess Reiyana’s hand. If he hadn’t known any better, that might still have been enough.
Now, he doubted it.
A steward informed him the Tazahrin had gone to the lower market.
“Show me,” Alexander said.
He followed fast. The market square opened before him—sun-baked stones, chattering stalls, the distant gleam of the sea framed in hazy gold. His guide gestured toward a shaded corner near the fountain where striped linen awnings fluttered lazily in the breeze. The air smelled of crushed citrus, salted cream, and the briny harbour beyond.
Alexander saw Kaelendrin first. That shade of golden hair was difficult to miss.
He lounged the way only men who knew exactly how far they could fall and still survive ever did—legs stretched, back slouched, one arm sprawled along the bench. A small silver cup sweated in his hand, half-forgotten, the lemon ice inside gradually collapsing into syrup.
His brother Alarik stood a few paces behind, the shadow at the edge of the flame. A lock of dark hair had come loose in the breeze, curling along his cheekbone, ignored. Arms crossed, his expression was unreadable beneath the sharp tilt of his brows. His gaze roamed with the vigilance of a brother who expected trouble and had made peace with being the one to handle it. A life with Kaelen had certainly ensured he resigned himself to the role.
The bartering voices faded as Alexander crossed the square. Kaelen looked up and squinted, as if the sunlight had played a trick on his eyes.
“By Solthar’s grace,” he said, straightening. “When I wrote to tell you we’d be here, I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
“Trust me,” Alexander replied as he stopped in front of the bench, “I didn’t either.”
