The Starlight Heir

by Amalie Howard

But like all monstrous things, the god of death was infinitely patient . . . The light of the stars could not endure forever, after all.

Fictional men never disappoint. “Book boyfriends are simply better,” I say.

“If I were to judge everyone on every misstep they made, I’d miss out on knowing some wonderful people.”

“Your light casts every other woman into the shade.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”

“Relax, Suraya. Let me lead,” he whispers. Heat winds through me at his soft rasp, making my limbs go liquid as if all he has to do is speak for me to comply.

Clearly, Prince Roshan is enjoying our verbal sparring—and our physical compatibility—as much as I am.

Did he just insult me and his brother in the same breath?

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Mere inches separate us . . . inches of space and an entire kingdom. But here and now, he’s not a prince, and I’m not a peasant. There’s no one here—only the two of us. There’s no judgment. No barriers. Nothing to keep us apart.

“As my mistress commands,” he says. I peer at him from beneath my lashes. “Am I your mistress then?” “You are everything.”

“Get the fuck away from her,” he roars,

“So you think I’m a beast?” My grin is watery. “I think you think you’re beast.”

“If the lie wins, you will be lost. All will be lost.”

But darkness can never thrive where light burns.

“The future is yet to be written. Perhaps your destiny will be the one you choose, not what has been written.”

“Do you believe?” He eyes me. “In the gods?” “Yes.” “People choose to believe in something. What’s important is that they have a choice. To believe, not to believe, to be arcanist, to be modern. It’s all the same thing. Good versus evil. Light versus dark. The truth versus the lie. We’re all searching for meaning, Suraya. How we get it isn’t the goal . . . it’s in the journey.”

We might not be soul-fated, but love, like my father said, is a choice. And I choose him.