More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
His first instinct when he saw her wasn’t to reach for his blade or summon the guards. It was to shout run.
Malika of Jasad or not, she still had the temperament of a deranged goose.
They do not get to take her from me.
“I wish I had a good reason for saving you. I wish it was logical or rational, informed by any semblance of reason. I wish more than anything my first thought when I emerged from the water was not of you, that I hadn’t been prepared to tear through every grain of sand and burn every tree in this damned place until I found you.”
“You torment of my soul,” Arin growled. “I am afraid I will win.”
“Tell me what you want, Suraira.” I flushed, my grip on his vest tightening. “I want to pull your arrogant head off your smug should—” He kissed me.
It was a bittersweet decadence, this choice. In the end, Arin picked her cheek.
“Any advantage of experience I might have evaporates the minute you touch me, Suraira.” His voice was firm. “Since it seems I have been less than clear: the advantage is yours. You unravel me utterly.”
“It was the perfect answer.” He was her Commander. Her Heir. “It is only that I love a woman whose choices are not so perfect.” Who found her peace in Arin even when Arin found nothing peaceful in himself.
“I will never sit on the Jasad throne,” Arin said. “The Jasad crown will belong to my wife, and my wife alone.”
“I do not need to stand, Essiya,” Arin snarled. “Do you want me on my knees again? Do you want me to beg?”
