Ashwin bears the bulk of his transgressions alone. I have seen him pacing the deck at night, kneading away headaches and raking his fingers through his hair. Brother Shaan’s death only adds to his remorse. Ashwin loves the empire and his people. He will not rest until he wins them back. I consider his bloodshot eyes. “I know you will.”
He smiles a little and bends down to kiss my cheek. I turn into him; he smells of coconut shaving oil. We both misjudge how close we are, and his lips land on the corner of my mouth.
His look of surprise fills my sight. He pauses and then presses his lips to my cheek properly. His tender mouth lights a fire across my skin. Warmth pierces inside me, straight to my core. I lean into him to prolong our connection. For the first time in days, my inner chill thaws, and my soul-fire burns true.
Ashwin pulls back. Cold rushes inside me again. I gape up at him, speechless. He beams, delighted by my reaction, and saunters away.
What has just happened between us? I . . . I let him kiss me. Twice.
Watching my reflection on the water, I try not to think of Ashwin, but my head keeps reeling. As soon as I reunited with Deven, I set aside my romantic feelings for Ashwin. Yet the prince’s kiss could have lasted longer without any protest from me. Is it possible that I still care for him as more than a friend? I cannot ignore those soothing seconds when the winter inside me melted . . .
“There you are,” Deven says.
He tugs down his scarlet uniform jacket and sits beside me. Since this morning, he has shaved his thick beard and trimmed his hair short beneath his turban. He is prepared to meet the Lestarians, looking every bit a handsome officer of the imperial army.
I rest against him, nestling into his side, and wait for him to inquire about Ashwin and me. But either Deven did not see us together or he does not wish to speak of the prince. I do not raise the subject either. Ashwin’s kiss was innocent, a gesture between friends, but admitting to one such gesture could lead to questions. Sometimes the truth is more harmful than an omission. And I am not the only one who has kept secrets.
“Natesa mentioned you tried to throw Ashwin overboard,” I say.
“It was more of a shove,” Deven replies, taking my statement in stride.
I give in to a sigh. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He bristles. “It’s my responsibility to defend the empire. The prince had just unleashed the Voider. By all appearances, he was a threat.”
I thread my fingers through his. “The prince is your ruler. As soon as he takes a wife, he’ll be rajah.” I have unintentionally led us into a topic of conversation I have dodged for days. Deven has not asked me to walk away from my throne. He understands my rank as rani is my godly purpose—and my choice. Or more accurately, an accepted obligation. But neither of us knows where that leaves us or our dream of a peaceful life in the mountains. “You have to put aside your hard feelings. We have enough division plaguing us.”
He tenses, his voice strained. “I’m trying, Kali. I have a lot on my mind.”
More than Brother Shaan’s passing wears on him. His mother and brother, Mathura and Brac, were stranded at the border between the empire and the sultanate. Two Galers were sent to find them but have yet to return. Each day we wait increases Deven’s angst.
I cup his smooth cheek. “I know you are.”
He leans into my touch. His features are an appealing mishmash of hard planes and pliable smoothness, like his two main roles: soldier and dedicated worshiper of the Parijana faith. I bring my lips to his. He tugs me closer, and his sandalwood scent fills me up. His body heat skims mine but does not soak in or alleviate the cold inside me. I disregard whatever that may imply and trail my fingers up his neck. Hot need builds at the base of my throat, yet the frost within me perseveres. I pull away, breathless and shivering.
Deven’s soft brown eyes study me. “What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” I don’t know. “I should lie down.”
I use my cane to stand, but Deven sweeps me into his arms. My feet flail out, and my hands fly up to his neck. “Put me down!”
“All right,” he says evenly and then starts for the wheelhouse.
I pull the skirt of my petticoat and sari close beneath me. “You said you’d put me down.”
“I will . . . on your cot.”
“But I can walk!”
Deven calls ahead. “Coming through!”
A chair blocks our path. Indah and Pons dine on a late breakfast of mashed fruit and currants. Pons’s hair hangs down his back; the top and sides of his head are shaved. He grabs Indah’s seat and slides her out of our way. I blush at their open stares. The Aquifier and the Galer are in love, yet they do not show it with public demonstrations. I sense Pons would if Indah were willing, but she is private about her affections.
Deven carries me through the open wheelhouse door and lies down with me, our bodies filling the cot. “See? That wasn’t so awful.”
I sink against him. “I could burn your nose off for that.”
“You like my nose.”
“I do,” I say, kissing the tip.
He slides his rough palm under my blouse and across my bare back. His touch warms me in places Ashwin’s kiss could never reach. I press my lips to Deven’s again, indulging in the sensation of his body tight against mine. My fingers creep across his muscled shoulders, but his jacket prevents them from meeting skin, constricting my touch. Deven does not stop kissing me while he undoes his front buttons, preparing to take off his jacket.
The door swings open, and Natesa pulls up short. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Her eyes sparkle at finding us entwined. “We’ve reached the river mouth. A Lestarian ship is waiting.”
Deven nuzzles my ear. “Someday I’ll have you to myself,” he says in a husky rumble.
A warm chill courses down my neck. “I’ll hold you to that.” I kiss him once more and sit up. Dizziness whams me from rising too fast, and I sag forward.
“You should lie down,” Deven says, rebuttoning his jacket.
“I’m fine. Just give me a moment.” After a few more breaths, my vision clears.
Deven places his hand on my shoulder. “Kali, you really should stay here.”
“I said I’m fine,” I snap. I know I am weaker than usual. He need not constantly remind me. “Natesa, please hand me my cane.”
Deven grabs the cane and thrusts it at me. Natesa shrinks away and tiptoes out. Deven is worried about my health, but I have greater concerns.
“I have to greet the Lestarians,” I explain. “Our first impression must reflect well on the empire.”
Indah assured Ashwin and me that we can rely on Datu Bulan, the ruler of the Southern Isles, for aid, but we are placing a lot of faith in a stranger. The Voider is positioned at the head of the most powerful army in the land. We can only hope the datu will recognize the threat he poses and join us to stop him.
I stand and temper my frustration. “I need to go, Deven.”
“You also need to take care of yourself.” He reaches for a stray hair against my cheek. I swipe it away before he can, and he draws back, hurt.