Beyond the Red Page 23

  I raise an eyebrow and lower my hand. “Should I?”

  “It’s the Ring of Sirae,” Kora says softly, turning to me again. “It was Sira Asha’s, for a short time, before he …” Her voice falters and she bites her lip.

  “Before he was murdered by rebels,” Serek spits. “Eighteen cycles ago.”

  My blood chills and the ring is cold against my finger. I run my thumb over the cool band and dare to glance at Serek. For a man who doesn’t like unnecessary killing, he looks disturbingly like he wants to rip my throat out with his teeth.

  “So I ask again, boy: how did a rebel come to acquire the ring missing from my dead brother’s finger?”

  I shake my head. Clench my fingers into fists. “I don’t know.”

  “I think you know very well.” Serek leans toward me. “It doesn’t take a great leap of logic to come to a conclusion.”

  “Nol wasn’t a murderer,” I say. “He wouldn’t do that. He didn’t even like my training to become a soldier because he was against spilling blood.”

  “A likely story, considering the gem you dare put on your finger.”

  I fight the urge to lean away from him and match his glare with my own. “I don’t know why he wanted me to have it, and I don’t know how he got it, but I know he wasn’t a murderer and he must have had a reason to hold on to it until now.”

  Serek snorts. “To hide his involvement in Asha’s killing, I am sure.”

  “Nol had nothing to do with that.”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t say if it’s naïveté or stupidity that blinds you to the truth.”

  “MY FATHER WASN’T A MURDERER!” Every muscle in my body is tense and my heart slams in my ears as Serek’s glare shifts from angry to downright murderous. He opens his mouth to speak, but a smaller voice interrupts him.

  “Eros,” Kora whispers. “I think we should tell him.”

  The hot energy setting my blood to a boil evaporates with those words. I shake my head. “I don’t think—”

  “Do you want to die? Because if you don’t explain, that ring is going to get you killed.”

  “But—”

  “You are aware”—Serek crosses his arms over his chest—“that I am sitting between you two.”

  “Show him, or I will,” Kora says. “Now.”

  Something builds inside me at her tone—that she’d resort to ordering me around like her pet, like her slave. I thought we left that pretense behind at the palace, but it’s clear I’m nothing more to her.

  I glare at her. “I can’t. I lost that dissolver stuff you gave me when your brother stripped me naked and tortured me for six sets.”

  If my jab affected her, she doesn’t show it. Not that I should expect it to affect her, since she apparently doesn’t give a blazing thought about me.

  She turns to her precious Serek instead. “Do you have a medical glass?”

  Serek reaches behind his seat and hands Kora a palm-sized octagonal glass. She taps on the surface a couple times, her fingers sliding and swirling across it doing stars knows what, then she lifts it up, leans forward, and holds it over my right eye. It’s see-through, and it doesn’t look like it’s doing anything special from my end, but judging by Serek’s reaction, I have a pretty good guess what it’s doing on his.

  The prince has gone rigid—his eyes widen and his lips part like he’s frozen in mid-breath. Then his body relaxes, one muscle after another, and the tension slides off him like a heavy blanket falling off his shoulders.

  “He never knew his father.” Kora hands the glass back to Serek and turns to him. “I assumed it was someone further down the line, but what if your brother’s ring wasn’t stolen? It’s passed down from firstborn to firstborn, isn’t it?”

  Serek doesn’t speak. He’s looking at me in a whole new way—analyzing the planes of my face. It’s a little uncomfortable to be watched this closely, and it’s all I can do to maintain eye contact. I shift in place and try not to fidget.

  Then Kora’s words sink into my mind. “Wait. You mean Asha’s firstborn?”

  She nods and glances at Serek, but he’s too busy staring me down to say anything.

  I laugh. I haven’t laughed in a while, but I full-out shake-the-stars laugh. Me. Asha’s son. Some half-blood half-royal joke of the universe. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard—like a royal, especially the world-blazing-ruler, would choose to have a half-blood kid. Sure.

  “I don’t understand what you find so funny about this,” Kora says.

  “I’m not Asha’s son. There isn’t a blazing chance in the Void.”

  “It’s more likely than you might think.” Kora stares out the window. “Asha frequented the outskirts while he was Sira. The night he was killed, he slipped past his own guards and went out into the deserts in the middle of the night. No one ever knew why, but they found his body alongside the path back to the city. He was returning to the palace when he was attacked—and he was missing his ring.”

  I shake my head. “That doesn’t mean a blazing thing. He could have been doing anything.”

  She turns to me. “He could have been witnessing the birth of his son. He would have given your mother the ring for safekeeping until you came of age, which would explain why you didn’t have it and why your adoptive family was holding on to it until now.”

  “Or he could have gone out for an entirely different reason and lost his ring when he died. That’s ridiculous, Kora, you can’t assume just because—”

  “What is the set of your birth?” Serek asks, and his tone makes me pause. He almost sounds … concerned? Is he actually considering this?

  I glance at him. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not Asha’s son.”

  “Don’t be stubborn, Eros. Just tell him.”

  I shake my head, but answer anyway. “The thirty-sixth of Summer, eighteen cycles ago.” I pause. “On the full lunar eclipse.”

  The cabin falls quiet. Serek leans back in his seat and runs a hand through his hair. Kora is biting her lip and nodding, staring at the ring on my finger. My stomach twists—humans and Sepharon may be on different calendars, but the eclipse that marked my birth is an event that only happens once every twenty cycles. And if they’re taking this seriously …

  “That’s when Asha died, isn’t it?”

  Kora nods. “They found him the next morning.”

  Heat drips down the back of my throat and slips around my lungs, squeezing slowly. This all has to be some weird coincidence, right? I mean, I thought the gold-eyes thing was weird, but I figured some distant barely royal relative did something thoughtless. But the Sira? If Asha is really my father …

  “Roma will kill you,” Serek says, finishing my thought.

  My stomach turns and this port is broiling. I can’t get air. My breaths aren’t enough and my head is spinning and sweat drips down my spine and I’m going to throw up that dried meat I ate all over Serek’s polished shoes.

  I gulp down sweltering air. “Stop the port.”

  Serek arches an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “Stop the port. Now.” Air air air. I don’t have enough air. This isn’t happening. This isn’t right. This isn’t real.

  “Eros—”

  I can’t be Asha’s son, because if I am, it means I’m a royal. No, worse than a royal, I’m a high royal—I’m one of the very people I’d grown up despising, one of the rulers of all who sees no problem with an enslaved race and the murder of innocent people.

  If I’m Asha’s son, then all along, everyone back at camp was right—I’m one of them.

  My fingers are clenching my hair and I can barely breathe and they’re both staring at me like I’ve lost my mind and I’m going to lose it. I’m going to fucken lose it if I don’t get out of this blazing port now.

  I throw the door open and Kora screams and Serek pounds on the privacy barrier behind them and the port slows to a stop and I’m on my knees, in the sand, with the heat of the suns on my back.

  Breathe.

/>   My heart is pounding out of control.

  Breathe.

  The world is spinning around me and my fingers are digging into the sand and I need to get myself together. I need to take a deep breath and slow down and think.

  What would Esta and Nol think? Did they know? Would they even be surprised? But they wouldn’t keep something like this from me, would they?

  I have to believe that if this is true, they didn’t know. Because the alternative means even after I came of age, they kept this life altering secret from me. They kept a truth that could kill me to themselves.

  Then again, maybe that’s exactly why they wouldn’t say anything at all.

  Soft fingers touch my back and I’m back in the dungeon with frigid water slamming over my skin. I jump up and take a long step away from her. Spin back, heaving in air, my fists shaking at my sides.

  “Don’t touch me,” I hiss. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”

  Kora’s eyes widen for just a breath, just long enough for me to see before she plasters on that nothing-fazes-me face. She nods. Gestures to the port. “Let’s sit down and talk this through.”

  Sit down and talk this through. Right. Like this is a problem you can wash away with fancy words and batted eyelashes.

  “If what you’re saying is true, I’ll be dead the moment I step into the capital.”

  Kora bites her lip. “Not if he doesn’t know who you are.”

  “Roma will know the moment he sees him.” Serek steps onto the sand. He looks at me again, but this time his eyes are soft. Almost sad. “You look like Asha.”

  I scowl. “You didn’t think so twenty minutes ago.”

  “I didn’t know Asha as well as Roma did—I was very young when he was killed. And I wasn’t looking for the similarities. But your eyes, the way you hold yourself, even the set of your jaw right now mirrors him entirely. Roma will know.”

  But Kora’s shaking her head. “He won’t as long as Eros doesn’t dissolve the nanites and no one says anything. You said it yourself—Roma won’t be looking for similarities.”

  Serek stares at me for a long mo, then nods and turns to Kora. “He will need to be genetically matched before we can be certain. I will administer the test myself, so we can keep this between us. And until then …” He sighs and glances back at me. “Until then you are Kora’s servant. And nothing more.”

  After riding in silence for hours, Eros eventually falls asleep with his cheek pressed against the glass window. I try to get some rest—my body is certainly exhausted enough—but nervousness claws through my stomach and keeps my mind awake. So I sit in silence, staring out the window instead.

  Serek’s gaze wanders over to me several times. His presence is always there—a warmth against my side, the occasional touch of his fingers on my hand. And I want more than anything to hold his hand and feel the same affection and careful excitement I felt on the ballroom floor so many nights ago. But instead his touch turns my stomach and stabs my heart with sharp heat. Because when I close my eyes, when I try to remember what we had that night, the echo of Eros’s lips are on mine instead. His hands igniting my body, his taste filling me with heady sensations.

  And I am ashamed.

  I don’t know what I was thinking when I kissed him—naï, I wasn’t thinking at all. I was reacting, releasing an emotion I didn’t realize I’d buried. Doing exactly what I wanted at that moment, even though I can’t fathom why I wanted it in the first place. I’d never looked at Eros romantically in the past, at least, not seriously—why now?

  And why do I want his hand—not Serek’s—in mine?

  Don’t you ever touch me again. His words are a burning ache behind my lungs, a frozen emptiness stealing the glow from my cells. And I can’t even be angry at him for his hurtful words, because I hurt him first.

  “If he is truly Asha’s son, we may face a serious problem,” Serek whispers, so as to not wake Eros. His words pull me out of my thoughts as his fingers gently squeeze my hand. I push the painful memory of Eros’s anger away as I face Serek.

  “It’s only a problem if you alert your brother,” I say. “If Roma doesn’t know, we have nothing to worry about.”

  But Serek shakes his head. “It’s not a matter of Roma knowing, it’s a matter of inheritance. As Asha’s son, Eros would have right to the throne—not Roma. And my brother will not give up his place so easily.”

  Serek is looking at me, but my gaze drifts to Eros. He seems younger as he rests—cycles of hardship, abuse, and more recent trauma wiped clean from his face. He seems softer, like his skin is smoother, like his embrace would be perfect.

  Like his lips would be clouds on my skin.

  I take a breath and close my eyes—I need to focus. I can’t allow myself to be so distracted every time I look at Eros. I open my eyes and turn to Serek. “I don’t think he’ll want the throne. He doesn’t relish attention.”

  “Regardless of whether he would want it, his birthright would demand it. Denying him his inheritance would dishonor Asha’s memory.”

  “You truly think he could ever take the throne? The people would never accept him—not in his court and not in the public eye.” Kala knows that’s not an experience I would wish on anyone. I catch myself watching him again and look away. “He may deserve the honor, but you know as well as I do that a coup wouldn’t go over smoothly.”

  “I know.” Serek sighs and runs his hands down his face. “Kala knows what my brother was thinking. Taking a redblood as a lover is controversial enough, but fathering a child with one? And a son, no less?”

  “Is it possible he intended to announce Eros’s birth himself? Even take them to the capital?”

  “If he passed down the ring, as it seems he has, I’d imagine that was his plan. But as he never reached the capital, I doubt we will ever know.”

  Serek’s hand slides over my palm again, and his fingers interlace with mine. He sighs and offers me a tight smile. “To be truthful, I’m still praying this is a misunderstanding and he’s not who we suspect he is.” He runs his thumb back and forth over the back of my hand, and my gut twists with guilt again. “For now, I think it best we pretend he’s your personal servant. It will take some convincing because of his obvious half-blood heritage, but I should be able to convince Roma to overlook it.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He nods, then takes a breath. “There is another matter we must speak about.”

  I already know what it is, but I nod anyway. “Go on.”

  He leans forward, takes both of my hands in his, and kisses my knuckles. My heart catches in my throat and I pray he doesn’t notice my skin going cold. After planting another kiss on my wrist, he looks up at me. “I proposed a contract to you once. Much has happened since then, but my offer still stands. I don’t believe that you harmed me intentionally, and I will fight any and all accusations that state otherwise.”

  The memory of Eros’s fingers flutters through my hair when I whisper, “I know.”

  “I hate to pressure you into making a decision, but I must know where we stand when I bring you before my brother. He will have heard about the attempt on my life and, if I arrive with you, he may assume it is to assist in your execution.” He pauses. “I’m not sure how well I will be able to defend you without an established relationship between us.”

  The echo of Eros’s lips is on my lips, on my neck, on my jaw. His scent surrounds me, and his touch—the cabin is sweltering and my stomach roils with nauseating waves. “You still want me to marry you?”

  He nods. “As your betrothed, I will be in a better position to protect you.”

  His lips, his hands, his taste. Kala, what have I done?

  Serek’s gaze pierces mine. “If you accept, Kora, I promise to be a good mate to you. I will protect you and care for you until the end of my time, this I swear.”

  His sincerity rolls off him, attacking me with a truth I can no longer deny: Serek loves me. He may even be falling in love with me.

/>   “Why?” I whisper. He frowns, not understanding, and I bite my lip. “Why do you want to be my mate?”

  He sighs. “Do you remember that night in the garden? The night I first asked you to be my betrothed?”

  “Always,” I breathe.

  “I asked you why you didn’t give the throne to your brother, if that’s what your people wanted, and you said it was to protect them from what they believed they sought. Instead of stepping down, which would have been the easier choice, you dealt with their disdain and disrespect to protect the very people who didn’t accept you.” He touches my chin and smiles. “I realized in that moment, Kora, that your spirit is just as beautiful as your exterior, and I knew I’d be lucky to have you.”

  My eyes sting. Tears blur my vision and I pull my hand out of his grasp to wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I was going to accept that night. Before … I’m so sorry—” My voice cracks—I can’t continue. Serek pulls me against him and I can’t contain the pent-up tears any longer. He caresses my hair; his embrace is strong and gentle and warm, but despite his best intentions, it makes me feel worse.

  Because even now, as I breathe in his smooth, clean scent and his heart beats against my ear, I think of Eros. I’ll never be able to undo that kiss. I’ll never be able to forget the explosion of emotion and want that I unleashed.

  But I can’t have Eros. I can never have Eros—he’s a slave, a half-blood slave, and I need to accept Serek for everyone’s sake. Because not only would it give Serek more grounds to defend me, but a marriage would distract Roma from Eros, and I will do everything in my power to keep him safe.

  So I accept.

  I do eventually fall asleep, and I wake to someone gently nudging my shoulder. I open my mouth to tell Eros to leave me alone and let me sleep, but—naï, I’m not in my bed. This isn’t Vejla. I open my eyes, blinking away the grogginess.

  Serek smiles at me and nods to the window. “Look.”

  I yawn, turn my gaze outside, and sit up.

  The world is white. Or at least, the ground is, all traces of red desert lost somewhere behind us. Tall trees with long golden leaves and purple flowers the size of my head tower over us, lining the packed white road. The buildings here are large, beautiful homes made of white stone that sparkles with color under the light of the suns, with slightly peaked roofs of blues and purples. In the distance, the famous mountains of Ona, Denae D’Aravel, reach into the sky, and although I can’t see it from here, the sacred city of Shura Kan lies somewhere in their midst—the city where all retired Avrae and Sirae go to live.