JAVAN STOOD ON the balcony that overlooked his courtyard at the palace and watched the stars flicker to life in the velvet sky above. The chill of night was quickly chasing away the thick, lazy heat of another summer day in Akram, and nightingales sang in the lemon grove that rose on the hill behind his courtyard. Malik sat at his feet, his golden leopard eyes blinking sleepily.
Tonight, nearly eight months after leaving Maqbara behind, he would host Akram’s first kingdom-wide ball. Everyone was invited, from peasant to aristocrat. When a member of Javan’s royal council had protested the inclusion of peasants, Javan had removed him from his post and appointed someone else in his place.
Ballrooms across the city were open tonight. Every aristocrat was hosting an event. Every kitchen was busy assembling buffets fit for the finest tables in the land. And the palace itself had three halls converted into small ballrooms, five rooms hosting buffets, and of course the main ballroom.
It was a small step toward unifying his people, but it was an important one. He’d personally addressed invitations to the former Maqbara prisoners he’d released when an audit of the magistrate’s office revealed that nearly half the prison’s inmates had no evidence to support their convictions. He wouldn’t blame them if they refused to set foot in Makan Almalik again, but he hoped they would. He’d given them justice. Now he wanted to give them a sense of community. Of belonging.
He would dance tonight with the daughters of aristocrats, butchers, goat farmers, and guards. Many of the aristocratic young ladies had already been paraded in front of him while their fathers offered a list of ways their family would make a good alliance with the crown and their mothers mentioned that of course he would need a queen, and her daughter was very accomplished.
He’d brushed them off with as much dignity as he could, giving the girls themselves a quick, sympathetic look. He understood all too well the pressure of living up to your parents’ expectations, sometimes at the expense of what you really wanted.
The person he really wanted was wandering the wide-open spaces of the world, far away from Akram.
It had been eight months, and his heart still wandered with her.
He’d have given anything she asked for, anything she needed to keep her by his side, but in the end, he hadn’t made the offer. She’d told him from the beginning that she could never stay in Akram. He’d loved her too much to beg her to change her mind.
She hadn’t promised she’d come back, and as he’d watched her leave, he’d known there was a good chance she wouldn’t. She’d find freedom somewhere far from him, and she’d stay. She’d think of returning, but no matter how many open skies she slept under, no matter how many stars she counted, Akram would still be the shackle she couldn’t bear to touch again.
Now, as he stood on his balcony adjusting a purple sash against his silk tunic, he breathed in the night air, full of citrus and jasmine, and promised himself that one day he’d search for her.
One day, when his kingdom was settled. When no one was questioning his rule. When there were no more pockets of corruption to root out and destroy. He’d put a regent in charge, and he’d search the world until he found her.
And if she was happy—if she was truly free—he wouldn’t approach. He’d watch from afar, satisfied that the girl he loved was thriving, and he’d return to Akram, leaving his heart behind with her.
A gong sounded from the palace’s main courtyard. A call to enter the ballrooms and begin the festivities.
It was time.
He whispered a prayer that wherever Sajda was, she was safe and happy and at peace. Then he took one last breath of the citrus-tinged air and nodded respectfully in the direction of his parents’ graves.
Fear out.
Courage in.
It was time to bring his kingdom together.
“Do you have a dance partner yet?”
The eerily quiet voice came from behind him, and his breath caught in his chest. For one awful second, he thought he was dreaming. That he’d conjured her out of need and want, and when he turned, his room would be empty. Slowly, heart pounding, he turned, and there she was. Standing in his doorway, her skin glowing like starlight against the brilliant blue of her silk gown, her black hair hanging loose and free down her back.
He crossed the distance between them in five steps, scooped her into his arms, and held on tight.
“You came back.” His voice shook as he buried his face against her hair.
“I did.” She sounded shy.
He closed his eyes as his hands lay against the bare skin of her back. “I thought you might not want to see Akram ever again.”
“I didn’t come back for Akram.”
He pulled away, and she smiled. The shadows that had haunted her eyes in Maqbara still lingered, but stronger than her ghosts was the light of tender hope that glowed on her face.
“I want to show you something,” she said as she pulled one of his hands from her back and placed it on her heart instead. “Can you feel that?”
He waited, and then nearly jumped away from her as the strange, prickling heat of her magic gathered beneath his palm, stinging and buzzing.
“You don’t need words and promises,” she said.
He smiled. “I said that to you once.”
“And you were right. But I haven’t said nearly enough to you. Will you let me show you?” she asked.
He nodded, and then her magic pierced him, moving through his blood like a thunderstorm. He staggered, and she caught him. Steadied him as her truth was revealed.
“Tell me,” she said softly.
He met her eyes. “You’re hurting still, and you aren’t sure you’ll ever be whole.”
Her eyes darkened. “What else?”
“You found the stars and the wide-open spaces you crave, but . . .” He frowned and then his heart began pounding, his stomach tingling.
“But?” she asked, and he started smiling.
“But something was missing.”
She raised a brow, and his smile felt too big for his face.
“What was missing?” she asked.
“Me.” Wonder filled him at the truth that glowed like a jewel in the midst of her magic.
She leaned close, her lips a breath away from his. “Why did I come back, Javan?”
Everything inside him fell into place—the grief of what he’d lost, the burden of ruling his people, the longing he felt for the girl who’d sacrificed herself to give him his kingdom—as he said, “Because you love me.”
She kissed him, wild and pure and sweet as her magic swirled between them.
“I love you,” he breathed.
She grinned. “I said it first this time. You’re getting slow living in all this luxury.”
He laughed. “Do you still remember how to dance?”
She gave him a look that sent his pulse thundering. “I remember that I’m already better at it than you are.”
“Want to prove it?” he asked as faint strands of music from the orchestra floated in through his open window.
“Fine. But it’s not my fault if your people take one look at my skills and decide to give me the crown instead.”
He laughed as he led her through the tiled hallways of the palace, her hand tucked in his arm, her eyes lit with the joy of challenging him.
For the first time since he’d entered the palace as its ruler, he felt at peace.