Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(39)

“You speak as if you know,” I say.

He exhales slowly. “After the deaths of my mother and father I did the exact same. I didn’t run away. Not in the literal sense. Though by shutting myself away I essentially was. I’ve always been solitary, but not reclusive. I obtained and ruled the kingdom fiercely during this time. But away from those duties … There were not many I could tolerate other than Kedrick, Roscoe, and others who had been close to my father.”

I know Blaine is one of these people. My heart sinks at how ingrained the slippery traitor is in Jovan’s past. How he’s taken advantage of Jovan’s previous grief to secure the king’s favor. How am I ever going to get Jovan to listen?

Jovan’s hand clenches. “It happened so gradually I didn’t see I was changing, or didn’t want to. No one dared to tell me because I was king. It wasn’t until recently that I began to see my life for what it has turned into. I’ve started to feel a connection with my people again,” he says.

I glance at his hand between us and place mine inside his. He closes his eyes and a ghost of a smile lights his face. His fingers enclose my own in a warm hold.

“I know a little about your mother, but not much of your father,” I say. His smile flickers and goes out. Jovan opening up happens nearly as often as Solati asking questions.

“My father was everything I aim to be,” he says simply. I try to grasp the undercurrent in his words. “He was a great fighter, a strong and iron-fisted king, and a clear-headed, concise ruler.”

“You’re all of those things,” I say. He gives me a doubtful look and plays with my hand.

“I have a long way to go before I can claim to be close to his legacy—as I’m often reminded,” he grunts. I’m sure if it wasn’t so dark, his cheeks would be red. He’s unsure. It’s such a rare emotion for Jovan.

“How did you eventually see what you had become?” I ask to relieve his discomfort. Maybe I can apply his experience to my own situation. I haven’t felt what he’s describing. Possibly it takes time to internalize enough panic and fear for it to change who you are. What else could I possible do to replace running away?

I shudder. If Jovan hadn’t noticed what was happening to him, would he have ended up like my mother? I feel the heat from his hand clasping mine and banish that line of thought. Jovan would never let himself become that. He may have been distant and ruthless, but he wasn’t evil.

“It wasn’t a matter of how, it was a matter of who,” he says. “Some time ago now, a woman came to the castle and my life hasn’t been the same since.”

I stiffen, and only just keep my hand in his by resisting all instincts to do otherwise. The statement hangs heavy around us. Does he mean me? Any elation I feel is swiftly stomped and crushed by fear. I’m then acutely aware we’re in a bed for the first time since we slept together. I scramble for a change of topic.

“I can’t help thinking tomorrow is going to go horrendously wrong.” I wince at the shake in my voice. Hopefully he thinks it’s fear for tomorrow’s events.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he answers.

Has Jovan got cold feet? A large finger across my lips stops me from speaking.

“No, listen. You’re torn between a life without discrimination and a life without secrecy. It’s the most difficult choice you’ll ever make. Whatever my personal desires, I want you to do what you believe will make you happy. If you’re doing this for any other reason than that, you need to rethink your next move.”

I release a slow breath when he takes his finger away, surprised to feel tears balancing in both eyes. Maybe I needed to hear those words. I needed someone to recognize how hard this was going to be and to absolve me of selfishness. “Thank you,” I whisper.

Silence settles over us, and I shift onto my side, lying down.

“If I couldn’t sleep back on Osolis, I’d just go to the springs under the palace,” I say in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“What are they like?” he asks softly. I untangle my hand and tuck it under my head. His hand curls into a tight fist.

“There are dark tunnels, weaving underneath where we sleep. The fires in the Fourth keep the water warm throughout Osolis. It gets too hot to bathe in once you reach the Third Rotation, but I bathe daily in the First and Second.” I sigh at the memory. “I had my own private bath. I know it was to keep me separate from the others, in case they saw my face, but I loved it. The other caverns are split into a roster, or if you’re positioned highly you get designated a bath.” I close my eyes and rest my head back.

“You miss it.”

“I do,” I say. I open my eyes as I realize that’s not completely true. Sometimes I miss my twin brothers so much I think it will crush me, and I worry for Aquin. I miss galloping on my favorite Dromeda and running through the long grass before harvest. I wish I could sprint to training or down to the orphanage, leaping over vines before they’ve dried and fallen off in the Second Rotation.

I correct myself. “I do. Sometimes. Little things mostly. And my twin brothers. I wish to see them every day.”

His voice remains like stone. “You’ve been here a long time now. Longer that any Solati in history.” I turn toward him and see he’s looking at me. I have nothing to say in return, so I try to be circumspect as I memorize his face with half-open eyes. He isn’t fooled; he’s always seen straight through me. I rely on him to do so.