by Ava Jae
After a pause, he turns to me and smiles; his eyes glitter with the stars. “As wonderful as your company has been, I imagine you are well aware that I haven’t traveled here just to visit.”
So here it is. I review the arguments I practiced in my head—no one has to know about Eros, he saved my life and I owe him a debt, he seems perfectly content to stay here, away from the watchful eye of the Sirae court.
He pulls his shoulders back. “I’ve come to offer you a marriage contract.”
I open my mouth and snap it shut, then run his words through my head again. What?
What’s the right thing to say? It’s so hard to think with the way he’s analyzing, naï, searching me with his gold-ringed eyes. His pupils are dilated and his fingers flex, then press flat against his lap. He pulls his lips together and keeps a soft, careful smile. Oh.
Oh wow. He’s nervous. Ken Sira-kaï has come here to offer me a marriage contract and he’s actually afraid I might turn him down.
Does Dima know about this?
“I … don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect …”
He arches an eyebrow and his lips quirk into a small smile. “You didn’t? I understand Daven da Daïvi visited recently for a similar purpose.”
“Well, sha, but that was Daven and you’re ken Sira-kaï and I didn’t think …”
Serek grins. “I would be honored to stand by your side here in Elja and father your children, ol Avra.” He has the most gorgeous smile and it’s all I can do to focus on his words. He would be honored? He’s ken Sira-kaï, brother of the most powerful man on the planet and second in line to the throne in Safara’s capital, Asheron. And he would be honored to marry me? And … father my children?
My stomach swoops at the thought, and I look him over more carefully. Serek, to put things plainly, is a beautiful man. Tall, strong body rippling with toned muscles. Gorgeous blue to gold to green eyes. Perfectly bronzed skin, thick dark eyebrows, and that smile …
Naï, sharing a bed with him would not be a chore.
I see it in flashes—holding his hand as the priest wraps our hands together with the golden bonding ribbon and we swear ourselves to each other. Lying in bed next to him, with his gentle fingers in my hair and his lips brushing over my skin. Playing with our beautiful, golden-eyed children … I could have a life with him.
I could make my people happy and even find happiness myself with him.
“You don’t have to answer now, of course.” He offers me a gentle smile and my belly flutters. “Take all the time you need to consider my offer.” Serek leans forward, takes my hand in his, and presses his lips against my knuckles. His lips are as smooth and soft as pillows and his grip is so very gentle. He helps me stand and I’m glad for the extra support. My legs are numb and my head is buzzing and did ken Sira-kaï just propose?
“You seem shocked,” Serek says with a slight laugh, releasing my hand. “You’re tormenting me with your silence, ol Avra.”
“Kora.” I look up at him. “Please, call me Kora. And I apologize. I must admit your proposal caught me by surprise.”
“I can’t imagine why. Even without your status, I imagine your beauty alone would bring suitors from around the territories.”
Warmth fills my cheeks and settles in my stomach. “I’m afraid my people don’t see it that way. They think Dima better suited for the throne.”
“Truly? I would think him a belligerent ruler, if given the opportunity.”
My eyes widen and my heart skips a beat. Hearing what I’ve feared from someone else—from Serek, no less—is like a new breath. The danger is clear to him, too. It’s not just me.
He hesitates, then adds, “May I ask you a personal query?”
I nod. “Sha.”
“If your people wish to see Dima on the throne, why not allow them to have what they seek? Give the throne to your brother and live your life as you wish?”
I twist my fingers together and watch the fountain in silence as the lights tint the water deep red.
“The people don’t understand what they’re asking for,” I finally say. “They see Dima as a beacon of strength, as a military leader deserving of the highest respect—which he is, but they don’t know him like I do. They haven’t seen his rages, they haven’t seen how quickly he uses violence.” My fingers trail over the chain in my earring and I lower my hand to my lap. “My mother told me once that Dima wouldn’t be good for Elja, that he’s too much like my father and would reign with fear rather than respect. I understand now she was right.”
After a pause, he nods. “But you don’t strike me as someone so eager to spill blood.”
I glance at him, unsure of how to respond. It’s well known that his older brother, Sira Roma, has a violent streak, as did his father before he passed the throne down to Roma and Serek’s eldest brother, Asha, and retired to Shura Kan, where all monarchs live their final cycles after their reign has ended. Asha, however, wasn’t Sira long before he was murdered, and Roma has been on the throne in Asheron ever since. But now that I think about it, I don’t know very much about Serek, except that he’s twenty-one and supposedly very skilled with technology. Some call him a technical genius. He’s always remained quiet, out of the eye of the media. The people of the capital seem to like him well enough, but I know very little about his political views.
I take a chance. “I’m not. But not everyone sees that as an advantage.”
“Hmm.” Serek’s hand rests on my waist and we walk aimlessly through the garden. “And do you see it as an advantage?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I’ve made military decisions with his counsel, but now I wonder if they were ill-conceived.”
“Decisions made under pressure are the ones we often question the most.” He smiles at me. “Which is why I would like you to take your time with the decision I present to you. It’s one I would like you to be secure with.”
“Thank you,” I say as he faces me.
He has the sweetest smile, this man, and he looks at me like he never wants to look away. A thrill shoots through my stomach as I hold his gaze, and he takes my hand again. His skin on mine sends a shaft of warmth through my core as I step closer to him. He’s bold, touching me here where anyone could see, but he doesn’t seem concerned. He pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the same spot on my knuckles. His lips are warm and soft against my skin. I’ve never seen a man smile so much through his eyes, and when he whispers, “Good night, Kora,” I know.
I’ve already made my decision.
“I’m going to marry Serek,” Kora says as she enters her room.
I keep my face blank. Frozen air drips down my throat. Something in my chest tightens, a vice squeezing the air from my lungs. Marriage? He’s been here for all of a day and now they’re getting married? “Well that’s … unexpected.”
She sits on her bed and pulls off her shoes. Shakes her head. “I still can’t believe he offered.”
So it’s just like that. Mr. High and Mighty Prince of the World waltzes in here with his gold-ringed eyes and stupid white smile and offers to marry her and she throws herself at him. I can just imagine how that conversation went—Sha, of course I’ll marry you, my gorgeous Serek. We’ll make beautiful babies together.
Ugh.
“So that’s why he’s here?” I cross my arms. “To offer you a marriage contract?”
She blinks. “You don’t think he knows?”
“I’m not the one who spoke to him. Or agreed to marry him.”
“I didn’t agree, not officially. But I will. At my upcoming lifecycle celebration, I think.” Kora pulls her hair down and sighs. She says it so easily, like there’s not even a consideration, and it hits me—there isn’t. She has to choose a mate, and it’s not going to be Daven.
What did I think was going to happen? That because we sleep better next to each other, we have some kinduv bond? Serek is the blazing High Royal Prince. There isn’t an option. And besides, what do I care? She’s a Sepharon
queen, and she destroyed my life. She means nothing to me.
“As for you,” she continues, “I’m not sure. He didn’t say anything and he barely looked at you, so … maybe not?”
“And he just happened to show up today of all sets to propose to you.” I clench my fists. “Seems convenient.”
She shrugs. “He said he’d heard about Daven, and it’s common knowledge that I’m looking for a mate, so it’s not out of the question.”
She reaches for her dress and I face the wall while she undresses. And see my reflection. Fuck. I completely forgot about the wall-sized mirror she has across from her bed, which—blazing suns—shows more than just my reflection. “Uh, Kora—”
Her dress falls around her feet, leaving only the scarf wrapped around her shoulder and left arm. Heat awakens inside me and sinks to my groin. Suns and stars alive. I thought I’d seen most of her before, but she’s … wow. From the perfect curve of her neck to the gorgeous curves of her waist and ass, to her strong, toned legs, she’s beautiful from head to toe. Tattoos blacken the paths of her tanned back, partially covered by the dark arm wrap she always has on. Her skin looks so soft, and for a mo I remember her slightly sweet scent. I stare for longer than I should, then close my eyes and take a deep breath I’m dangerously close to embarrassing myself again. And she may have a gorgeous body, but she’s still an alien queen, and a murderer, and everything I don’t want to be.
Dammital. She’d be a lot easier to hate if she wasn’t so fucken stunning.
“Kora,” I bite out. “I’m facing a mirror.”
“Kafra!” She gasps and fumbles with something. “Not a word. Not one word from you.”
I smile and keep my eyes closed. The glimpse I got was quick—well, sortuv—but it hangs in my mind.
“Okay. I’m dressed.”
I turn again and try not to stare too hard at the thin, silky black robe hugging her body. Force my gaze up to her face.
“Pervert,” she mumbles, sitting on her bed.
My face is warm, but I still can’t hold back my grin. “I did try to warn you.”
She bites back a smile. “Besides the point.”
“If it’s any consolation, I only saw everything from behind.”
“Don’t make me blind you again.”
I snicker. “At least my last sight will be one to remember.” The words are out before I can stop them—my eyes widen as her face flushes purple. Shit. I’m flirting. Why the fuck am I flirting? She’s practically engaged.
I take a steadying breath. “Right. Well. If you don’t need me, I’m going to wash up.”
She nods. I step quickly toward the bathroom, but then she says, “Wait.” I close my eyes. Inhale deeply. Glance back, and a sortuv softness in her face makes me pause.
“Am I making the right choice?” she whispers.
The right choice? The wedding. I hesitate. “You’re asking me?”
“I don’t see anyone else here.”
She’s right, of course—we’re the only ones in the room—but I’m not sure when my opinion started to matter. Or why. I’m not sure why any of this matters to me, why the tightness around my heart hasn’t eased since she announced her pre-engagement, why the thought of her marrying Serek fills me with a twisting emptiness I don’t understand. But none of that matters, because as much as I hate it, there’s only one answer.
“Do you have a choice?”
Her gaze falls to her lap. She presses her lips together. Shakes her head. “Naï,” she sighs. “I suppose I don’t.”
I step out of the room before the tightness in my chest spreads to the rest of my body.
I’ve never been nervous for a party—let alone my lifecycle celebration—but tonight I am terrified. The chatter builds downstairs, mixing with the rush of servants slipping through the halls and the clatter of plates and low hum of music as the guests arrive. None of it bothers me—I’ve never been intimidated by crowds or busyness.
But tonight isn’t just the celebration of my eighteenth cycle. Tonight is the night I tell Serek I will be his mate.
My stomach churns and I take a breath through my nose. How things have changed in four sunsets. A term ago, no one had expected anything out of the ordinary of me this celebration; now, with Serek lingering in Vejla, the rumors have spread quickly. The glances and whispers trail me like a shadow. Even Dima, who refuses to speak to me except for cordial remarks in Serek’s presence, must know.
Tonight, everyone expects a formal announcement to be made. And they won’t be disappointed.
Anja smiles at me through the mirror as she weaves and braids my hair on top of my head. “Nervous?” she asks.
“Not at all.” I twist my hands in my lap. “I always feel like I’m going to vomit before a party.”
Anja slides a golden bead into my hair and twirls it with her expert fingers. “Is it ken Sira-kaï who makes you nervous?”
I bite my lip and glance at Eros through the mirror. He watches, stone-faced, and I direct my attention back to Anja. “Not exactly. I enjoy his company … I’m more nervous about the conversation we’re going to have. About …” I interlace my fingers and press them into my lap. “You know.”
Anja nods, weaving her fingers through my hair. “He will make a good mate.”
“Sha, I think so.” Eros catches my eye through the mirror again, and I offer him a small smile. He meets my eyes, but doesn’t offer one in return. “The dress uniform suits you well, Eros.” I force a larger smile. He glances down at his clothes—a sleeveless top made of a silky red fabric with silver buttons, smooth white pants, and silver cuffs on his upper arms, just above the black markings.
He pulls at the shirt. “I look like a performer.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Never happy.”
“I’m perfectly happy with my normal uniform, thanks.”
I am too, I almost say, but I catch myself. Those kinds of jokes may be acceptable in private, but not in front of Anja. Not that I don’t trust her—she and Eros are the only two people in my court I do trust—but they aren’t the sort of remarks I should be making with company. Thankfully, Anja saves me from a response, finishing with my hair and turning my chair around to face her.
“Close your eyes, please,” she says, and I obey. A cold, slick brush runs along the edges of my eyelids, followed by several layers of powder, a dry brush, then another coat of cold makeup. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling as she paints my eyelashes, then shapes my brow, then dusts my cheeks with some kind of shimmery golden powder. She then reaches into her pocket and hands me a wrapped sweet of some sort. It’s soft and white, almost like a chewy mint.
“It’ll calm your stomach,” she says. I pop it in my mouth—it tastes vaguely of tangy ljuma fruit and some kind of slightly bitter berry, but it’s not bad.
Finally she pulls out a deep purple bottle, almost the color of blood, and holds it up to the light. It shimmers like liquid gems.
“That’s pretty,” I say.
She shakes it and smiles at me. “It’s new. It’ll complement your dress, I think.” She’s right—it matches the color of my dress and earring almost perfectly. I keep still as she applies it to my lips, then blows gently as the gloss dries. “There. You look beautiful.”
I stand and face the wall-length mirror beside my door. With my hair piled high on my head and my shimmering, form-fitting dress angled so it cuts off high on my right thigh but reaches down to my left ankle, I am radiant. Like a glittering bloodgem. “Thank you, Anja.” I smile.
“If I may, I think ken Sira-kaï will be very pleased.”
I take a shaky breath and distract myself from the blush by smiling at Eros. His eyes are glued to mine, and he pulls his lips together as he stands stiff as a board against the wall. “What do you think?” I ask. “Too much?”
He clears his throat and shakes his head. “Not at all. You look …” He glances at Anja, then back to me. “Serek will be happy.”
I smile and step int
o my heels. Anja adjusts the clasps, sprays me with a flowery fragrance, and steps back. “You will be the most beautiful woman in the room, el Avra. As always.”
I swallow the last of the sweet. My stomach still feels like it’s tied in knots three times over, so I hope it kicks in soon. Preferably before I see Serek. No amount of lipstain and shimmery fabric will help if I vomit the moment I see him.
“Are you ready, el Avra?” Anja asks.
“Naï.” I close my eyes and inhale deeply. After holding it in for a pause, I exhale and open my eyes.
Eros is staring at me, and this time he actually offers a weak smile when our eyes meet. “You’ll do great, Kora,” he says. Anja elbows his side and he rolls his eyes. “El Avra.”
I smile and step toward them. “Okay,” I say. “I’m as ready as I ever will be.”
And so Eros opens the door.
Just before I step into the ballroom, Jarek opens the door and announces my arrival. I barely hear my name over the pounding of my pulse in my ears, and the drumming of my heart in my throat.
The ballroom looks beautiful. A pair of long crescent-shaped stone tables are on either side of the large landing area of the ballroom—those on the left hovering waist-high, packed with bowls and plates of fruits, vegetables, pastries, breads, snacks, and drinks of all shapes and sizes, those on the right lower to the ground and twice the size of the food-covered tables with a red setting for each guest. Behind the dining area is a curved triangular partition brimming with colorful dried herbs and leaves for brewing or smoking, as well as beautiful flowers and plants from across Elja.
Beyond the partition is a set of steps, leading down into the lowered section of the room where dancing and performances take place. On the far side across, a gigantic-sized Eljan crest is carved into the white stone wall, glistening with water that runs endlessly over the entirety of the far wall. But my favorite part is, and always has been, above. Fist-sized white lights fly above our heads, rotating ever so slowly around the room, like the stars have come down just to join the celebration. And beyond that, the largest glass ceiling in the palace reveals an expanse of true glittering stars and the regal moons of the night skies of Safara. Each one is visible from the ballroom tonight—a rarity I haven’t seen since my seventh celebration. Mamae always used to say that when the four moons of Safara came close together, it was because they were gathering to watch what was happening below.