“Or a Ravkan heiress or a Grisha like Zoya.”
“Zoya? I make it a policy never to seduce anyone prettier than I am.”
I laughed. “I think that was an insult.”
“Alina, this is the alliance I want: the First and Second Armies brought together. As for the rest, I’ve always known that whatever marriage I made would be political. It would be about power, not love. But we might get lucky. In time, we might have both.”
“Or the third amplifier will turn me into a power-mad dictator and you’ll have to kill me.”
“Yes, that would make for an awkward honeymoon.” He took my hand, circling my bare wrist with his fingers. I tensed, and realized I was waiting for the rush of surety that came with the Darkling’s touch, or a jolt like the one I’d felt that night at the Little Palace when Mal and I had argued by the banya. Nothing happened. Nikolai’s skin was warm, his grip gentle. I’d wondered if I would ever feel something so simple again or if the power in me would just keep jumping and crackling, seeking connection the way lightning seeks high ground.
“Collar,” Nikolai said. “Fetters. I won’t have to spend much on jewelry.”
“I have expensive taste in tiaras.”
“But only one head.”
“Thus far.” I glanced down at my wrist. “I should warn you, based on the conversation I had today with Baghra, if things do go wrong with the amplifiers, getting rid of me may require more than your usual firepower.”
“Like what?”
“Possibly another Sun Summoner.” It’s simple enough. Like calls to like.
“I’m sure there’s a spare around somewhere.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“See?” he said. “If we’re not dead in a month, we might be very happy together.”
“Stop that,” I said, still grinning.
“What?”
“Saying the right thing.”
“I’ll try to wean myself of the habit.” His smile faltered. He reached out and brushed the hair back from my face. I froze. He rested his hand in the space where the collar met the curve of my neck, and when I didn’t bolt, he slid his palm up to cup my cheek.
I wasn’t sure I wanted this. “You said … you said you wouldn’t kiss me until—”
“Until you were thinking of me instead of trying to forget him?” He moved closer, the light from the meteor shower playing over his features. He leaned in, giving me time to pull away. I could feel his breath when he said, “I love it when you quote me.”
He brushed his lips over mine once, briefly, then again. It was less a kiss than the promise of one.
“When you’re ready,” he said. Then he tucked my hand in his and we stood together, watching the spill of stars streaking the sky.
We might be happy in time. People fell in love every day. Genya and David. Tamar and Nadia. But were they happy? Would they stay that way? Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay. I tilted my head back. The stars looked like they were close together, when really they were millions of miles apart. In the end, maybe love just meant longing for something impossibly bright and forever out of reach.