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May we lead the lives our ancestors were denied.
She had the temperament of a deranged goose. Every interaction he’d shared with her had thoroughly convinced him he was not dealing with a stable woman.
I wanted him to choke on his intestines as I fed them to him in pieces.
I turned to face him. This was the closest we had been without someone actively bleeding. I would be happy to rectify that.
“Caution is an area where I am prone to excess,” Arin admitted. “My faith in my guards has taken a beating.” “You? Paranoid? Steady me, sire, I may keel from my mount.” The corner of his mouth twitched. A small victory. I wondered if I might someday see the Nizahl Heir smile without acting as though he’d be fined for it.
I threw my arms up. “If you want to quietly bleed for the next hour, it is not my place to stop you. But don’t expect me to drag you to the tunnels if you faint!” He paused. “I wouldn’t faint.” “I know you are the mighty immortal man, impervious to the woes of us commoners. If it would behoove Your Highness to allow me to dress your injury—why, I can’t express how honored—” “Fine.” Arin scowled. “Unless your magic includes secret physician abilities, I am not confident you won’t do more damage.” “You’ve injured me.” I put a hand to my heart. “Somehow, I’ll find the strength to live another
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I wanted to cut him open and compare our bones to understand why his gave him grace and mine gave me back pain.
“The way most men love is so boring. It is frequent and fickle and altogether unextraordinary. Arin would love to obsession. To madness. But do you want to know the real reason he would never allow himself to love another?” Vaida stepped close, her floral scent tickling my nose. “Arin is consumed by what he loves. If asked, he would get on his knees and let it kill him. He withholds his heart out of self-preservation.”
Arin glanced up and froze. A myriad of emotions flashed over his features, too many and too complicated to name. He straightened, gaze roaming over my gown. “Sefa did wonderful work on your dress.” He sounded dazed. I had watched him bleed half to death without sounding anything but composed. “Although you are certainly not endearing yourself to Vaida.” “Oh?” I managed. “It’s customary for the hostess to outshine her guests.” Arin’s eyes swirled with humor and something quieter, more intimate. Just for me. “You’ve made that impossible.”
“He is brilliant. Cold, cunning. He eats too slowly, has an unnatural fixation with maps, and if you leave him near clutter long enough, he’ll either kill you and organize it or organize it and kill you.”
“A donkey kicked in the head six times wouldn’t suggest such an unreasonable course of action. Are you mocking me?” Arin looked at me until it started to hurt. A covered thumb slid across my cheekbone. “What appeal can reason have in the face of your tears?”
That even though one day I would kneel before Jasad’s judges in the afterlife to account for it, I would not renounce a single moment of loving the Nizahl Heir.
“I am not immortal, lofty, mighty, or magnificent. I cannot be, because I am just a man.” Every word was bitten off, drawn from a place that simmered in neglect for too long. Ice-blue eyes, eyes that saw too much, saw through my careful pretenses, searched my own. “I am only a man.”
“I despise you.” I brushed my fingers over his hair, relishing the weight of his body against mine. He was holding himself carefully, as though he might crush me if he lost focus. Silly man. I kicked his ankle out and huffed a laugh as he caught himself, rolling me on top. I followed the sharp line of his nose. “I dream of killing you.” Arin pulled my fingers away. Worry lashed me. Had I gone too far? Eyes dark with amusement searched mine. He smoothed the furrow forming in my brow with his thumb. “My demented Suraira, we have much to discuss about seduction.”
Love was not submission. It was not testing how far I could bend before I broke. Love was Sefa’s hand finding mine in the dark to reassure herself of my presence. Love was Marek entering the kingdom of his nightmares to help me. Raya’s squash soup on my birthday, Rory’s gruff smile when I named an herb correctly, Fairel’s giddy laugh. Dawoud turning the dagger onto himself. A table exploding in the Blood Summit. Love was Arin cradling my face in a burning room and telling me to run.
