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Azir sighed. “Can’t you say no?”
She swallowed. “My family would be upset. I’m supposed to be encouraging prospective husbands.”
“But you don’t want them.”
“No.”
Her sadness contrasted so much with her bright eyes from a few minutes before, when she had stared at the scenery below. “What if your family thought I was a prospective husband?”
Her chuckle was bitter. “They’d obviously be thrilled.”
“Dance with me then. All night. And the next. Your suitors will leave you alone. The princesses will leave me alone. I’m in no mind to look for a wife and we’d do this as friends, if you agree. I have no interest…”
“I know. If you keep reminding me of that, this is going to get quite awkward. I’m seventeen, Azir. I don’t want to belong to anyone, and even if I did, I’d like to live my life a little before becoming someone’s personal slave, thank you.”
“Slave?”
She rolled her eyes. “What do you think marriage is about, for a woman?”
“No idea. You’re all so interested in it, I’d think—”
“We’re conditioned, can’t we see? If marriage were so great, we wouldn’t need to be teaching girls to want it, we wouldn’t need to be making up stories as if marriage was the greatest thing. Nobody teaches kids to like cake. You don’t have to.”
Azir frowned. “I guess.”
His thoughts then turned to his sister, his sister who had left her home to a different kingdom, her eyes filled with fear. His sister whom he’d seen only once after that, her eyes hollow, her face pale, as if her light had been quenched. His sister who had died from pneumonia, which he still believed might have been sadness. And that had been before the war.
For the first time, he had the courage to tell anyone about it, tell what he’d seen his sister go through, tell a stranger that he believed the Eaglehold prince—or their family—had killed his sister.
It was like opening a dam, and then all his memories flowed through, as he was speaking to someone who listened, who perhaps even cared. So many words, so many feelings that had been buried. The ball passed in a flash, as their words flowed and flowed while they danced.
She told him about her plans to travel across the continent, get to know more of the world, and even how she had dreamed about visiting Fernick as a child. She knew it was an impossible dream now, but she still yearned for freedom, and that was why she truly did not want to get married.
He found himself sneaking into her bedroom. The ball hadn’t been enough for what they had to say to each other. Then, for the first time, he realized the pain he was still feeling, the loss, the horror. His city, his family, his castle, everything gone. Even little things hurt, like the books from the castle library, most of his personal belongings—little, stupid things that shouldn’t hurt and yet they did. They did.
What hurt more were the angry words, the last words he’d told his brother. His brother who had blamed him for a silly prank in the kitchen. Azir had been grounded, sent to the Royal Manor, away from the castle, even if a war was raging on the continent. And that was how he’d found himself alone, the sole royal survivor when his city had been destroyed. Only rubble in the place where he’d grown up. So many swallowed tears whose bitter taste had never left his mouth. But the tears were falling now, falling as Ursiana hugged him and caressed his hair. He’d been king for six months, trying to hold everything together, having to remain strong despite all the tragedy, without any chance to feel his pain.
Azir was strong, but he also wanted a shoulder to cry on, someone to console him, someone to love him. The hug turned into a kiss, followed by more and more kisses. He’d found his queen, his love, his life. He’d travel with her, he’d give her all the freedom she wanted. Perhaps she’d been wrong that he’d have jumped from that parapet, but she’d been right that there hadn’t been much will to live in him.
Up until now.
After they had told each other everything, even those dark, shameful parts they perhaps wouldn’t have dared even admit to themselves, after they had peered into each other’s souls, there could be nothing indecent or improper in getting rid of the clothes between them, in breaching the distance between them. Ursiana was and would always be his one and only love, the only person who understood him.
He buried his pain, his despair, his fears as he buried part of him inside her. Over and over and over, their bodies said what words couldn’t.
The sun was already up when he left her room, dreading spending any second apart from her.
Despite not having slept, he felt more energized than ever, more alive than he’d ever felt. In a way it was a good thing that he had some time alone, as he asked the palace attendant for a jeweler. An old man came half an hour later, bringing a few examples of interconnected rings. Azir didn’t want to commission brand new pieces, he didn’t want to wait, so he bought one of the samples: two silver adjustable rings, with no decoration. They were in the Umbraar tradition, and therefore could connect and form one ring, which he put on, then wondered if she would like it. Well, they could change it for something different later. What mattered was what the rings represented; the two of them completing each other, together forever.
He was about to leave and request an audience with Ursiana’s parents, when someone knocked on his door; a woman with a hooded cloak. At first he thought it was a servant, but when she lowered it he saw it was princess Katia, from Wolfmark.
“What do you want?” He didn’t bother hiding the annoyance in his voice.
“I have something to show you.” She tilted her head and batted her eyelashes, obviously unaware of how ridiculous she looked. “Because I’m your friend.”
He didn’t want to be rude and cause a commotion, but then he realized she had no guards or servants with her. “Are you alone?”
She lowered her head. “Don’t tell anyone. I know it’s inappropriate, but my motives are honorable. I just couldn’t bear the thought that you would—”
