The Prism Stone was finally home, and it screamed its relief, shooting out every thread of energy.
Alōs crouched farther over his brother as magic spun hot, cold, rough, and silky across his skin.
And then as quickly as the chaos had ensued, everything fell quiet, the final note a relieved sigh.
Alōs felt Ixō’s hesitant release as he stood. Alōs lifted his head, blinking to clear his vision.
And a gasp rattled from him.
The room sparkled diamonds. The air turned sweet as it was filled with the lost gods’ misting magic. The Prism Stone was now wedged high above in the Weeping Waters, out of reach of any greedy hands. Rainbow threads poured from beneath it, once again bloating the water below, filling it with magic. The Room of Wells was restored. And thus, so was Esrom.
Ariōn stood at Alōs’s side for a moment before leaving him to pass Ixō and step toward the dais.
He wanted to reach out and pull him back, to shelter him from any other possible harm that still lingered. But Alōs remained still as the young king approached the end of the walkway, his silver crown reflecting the multicolored waterfall as he came to a stop before it, the Prism Stone pulsing bright above. Ariōn ran fingers through the cascading water and let out a breath of sensation.
When he turned back to Alōs, his smile was radiant. “Now can I congratulate you?”
Alōs shook his head, and though the moment was indeed a relieving one, he could not share in his brother’s grin. “I do not deserve praise in returning what I had taken.”
Ariōn frowned at his words as he walked back to his side. “The burden of what you did sat with both of us.” He placed a hand on his shoulder. “But it is over now, Alōs. You’ve done it. And I am honored to welcome you home, brother.”
How long Alōs had yearned to hear those words. He’d traveled to the ends of Aadilor in the hopes of one day being led back. Now here he stood, no longer hiding in shadows but openly beside Ariōn, both given a chance to make up for the years they’d lost.
Alōs looked to the Prism Stone, glowing red and strong, feeling far away from a moment that was most assuredly meant to be a triumphant one.
The item he had stolen burned euphoric at being back where it belonged.
Was it truly done?
Could he finally stop running to make up for his past?
At the thought, Alōs’s wrist began to burn. He did not look down at what he knew he would no longer find: his binding bet.
Done. It was all done.
Despite the release he knew he should feel, the relief, Alōs’s chest remained tight.
There was something taken still left to return.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
It was night, but no one in Esrom slept.
Within the palace, Niya stood by the open window of her guest room, the kingdom alive with uproarious celebration below. Lanterns lit the streets like firebugs, casting warmth over the dancing citizens as flutes and drumbeats echoed in the air.
Word of the Prism Stone’s return had spread like shooting stars across the islands, along with the truth of why the Betrayal Prince had stolen it—to save his dying brother. A strategic political move by the king and his council, no doubt, now that everything was back in order.
The citizens of Esrom were hungry for a bout of good news after such a long succession of sorrow within the royal family. They were quick to forgive the elder prince’s sins.
It appeared Alōs was to get all he desired.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Niya held in a chill that filtered through the window.
She was still in her robe, her outfit for tonight untouched on her bed. She was meant to dress and join the party, her pirates somewhere among the merry crowds.
Although, Niya thought, frowning, she supposed they were no longer her pirates, now that she was free of her binding bet to their captain.
Her chest grew heavy as she peered down at her wrist.
Empty.
Pale.
No trace of the mark that had once bound her tightly to a ship, its captive turned crew.
She was free.
Then why did this not leave her elated?
Because, a voice whispered, you have found another sort of freedom aboard the Crying Queen.
With an uncomfortable twist, Niya let this thought sink in, knowing the truth in it. Though she loved her family and her role with the Mousai, she had found she was able to test and explore new corners of her strengths and weaknesses with these pirates. She had fought to sail through storms, worked side by side under countless days of heat and sailing, survived the wrath of a ship full of angry crew, and lived through pain and homesickness she’d thought might break her. Aboard the ship they had their own rules, unbound by queens or kings, sisters or brothers, cities or kingdoms, but created from what kept them alive as they sailed toward the endless sea’s horizon. Then there was the captain, Alōs, who welcomed her blaze of heat as he met it head-on with his cool. Alōs, whom she’d believed was her worst adversary, had ended up being a mirror to her endless possibilities.
But it was all over now.
Tomorrow they would sail topside, her final leg aboard the Crying Queen before they returned her to Jabari. Where she would resume her life, her duties.
A knock sounded at her door, and before she even called for them to enter, with a flutter in her chest, she knew who it would be.
“It appears I am destined to always find you indisposed,” said Alōs as he drank in her robed form from where he stood silhouetted by the light cast from the hall behind him.
“Or perhaps there is never a good time for us to be alone.” She turned fully toward him, a buzz of treacherous anticipation awakening. She had been avoiding him since they’d arrived in Esrom, not that it had been hard to do. Alōs had been ensconced by his brother and people, always surrounded. Still, she knew, despite how she might try to twirl from his grasp, he would eventually find her. He always did.
And perhaps because of that, she decided to finally stand still. To face their parting head-on and bear the consequences later. As she had learned to in the past.
“Interesting theory,” he mused. Closing the door behind him, he approached slowly. “How do you suppose we should test it?”
Niya momentarily closed her eyes. “Alōs . . . ,” she began.
“Yes?” His voice was a challenge as he stopped beside the roaring fire. His shadow stretched toward her over the plush carpet. Still a distance away, and she could feel his delicate touch of cool. Say what is on your mind, fire dancer, his gaze prodded.
“What brought you to my room?” asked Niya instead.
A flash of disappointment before his reply: “The crew were wondering why you were not celebrating with them. I came to find answers.”
“Any of your pirates would have done that for you.”
“Yes, I’m sure they would have if I had asked.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He gave her a look then, as if to say, You and I both know why.
“Niya,” he said as he stepped closer, until he was directly in front of her, his glowing turquoise eyes taking her in, his features a study in beautiful angles. Niya’s belly twisted with desire as she inhaled his scent: sea and midnight orchids. “We should talk.”
Dread filled her. “Talking is far too overrated.”
A small smile on his lips. “Normally I would agree, but presently I think we have something to discuss.”
She turned back to the window, stared out into the night lit by celebration.
“What is there to discuss? It’s over,” said Niya. “Esrom is saved, and I have paid my debt to you.”
“And this upsets you?” His breath was warm along her shoulder.
She squeezed her eyes closed. “No.” Yes.
“Then what troubles you?”
Tomorrow, she answered silently as she slipped away from his crowding form, moving toward her bed. She ran fingers over the silk wrap dress that had been laid out for her.
A roar of a group’s laughter filtered up into her room from the streets below, the joyous beat of a new melody being spun into the air.