"The three things you'll learn," he said gently, the hint of a smile on his lips. "If you stop fighting and let me teach you."
"I don't want to be cooped up in a room all day long, staring at bowls, willing something to happen." He opened his mouth to retort, but she lifted a hand to stop him. "Please, Malek, it drives me mad. Take me out into the city. Introduce me to your people. Show me their magic. Open my eyes so I can see, like you did tonight. Some lessons, yes, and I will do my best to pay attention. But I'm not like you. I can't be focused all the time. I need some space to breathe."
"A compromise?"
"If that's what you want to call it."
He took a deep breath, studying her until a bright spark lit his stormy eyes, like a break in the clouds. "We have a deal."
13
Malek
She was more infuriating than he'd ever imagined, yet so much more exciting too. It had been a long time since anyone dared question him, a long time since he'd allowed it. Part of him wished she would just be quiet and do as he said—the world perhaps would be better for it. Yet another part of him, a dying ember her presence had breathed back to life, was glad of her insolence. He did want a queen. He did want an equal. He did, after so many lonely years, want someone by his side who understood the burden and could carry it with him. Maybe that was why this newfound protectiveness surprised him most of all.
"Good night, Malek," Lyana whispered, her body mostly concealed behind her door. Those emerald eyes had regained their spark, a fact for which he was wondrously grateful, even if it might cause a headache come morning. Earlier that afternoon when she’d first opened herself to her magic and felt the onslaught of humanity, all the light had fled her gaze. It’d been the first time in his life when he'd regretted being a king in need of a queen, the first time his thoughts hadn't been on saving the world, but instead on saving her from it.
Maybe that was why he'd finally given her the truth.
To remind them both of the battle ahead.
"Good night."
He waited until she closed the door to turn his back, drinking in these last few moments of the buoyancy her presence brought. She looked at him as though he had all the answers, a peaceful thought until he was alone again and reminded himself that no matter the authority he'd learned to ooze, he was just as uncertain as the rest of them.
No one bothered him as he traversed the dank castle halls, footsteps loud in the silence. He missed his ship, the constant groan of wood, the steady drum of waves, the serenity that came with isolation. Here, in the heart of his city, even without using his magic, he felt it—the steady pull of his people, their yearning like a hum in the back of his thoughts, only heightened by the quiet. But he needed the people to see her, to believe in her. For once, he wanted their hope to drown out their pain.
"My liege."
Malek returned from his wandering thoughts in an instant. Lord Ferris, a member of his high council and the overseer of Da'Kin, stood by his door. He'd forgotten their meeting entirely, but monarchs never apologized. That was another lesson his father had taught him.
"Come in," he ordered as he strode inside his antechamber and made his way to the heavy wooden desk in its center. Only after taking his seat did he incline his head, indicating the other man should as well. "What news?"
"My liege," Lord Ferris began.
Despite his weary bones, tired from the long day and the use of so much magic, Malek sat forward in his chair, listening intently to the report on the welfare of the city. Overpopulation was a problem, as always. With the constant threat of dragons, there was safety in numbers. Each city in his kingdom was fortified by weapons and mages to keep the beasts mostly at bay. Those living on isolated islands or in the open sea were most vulnerable to attack. But with the crowds came other problems. More homes were needed, more supplies, more food. Disease spread quickly, violence too. Keeping his people safe was a constant game of push and pull, magic the only thing that kept them going. Earth mages were put to work in the floating farms, tirelessly cultivating crops the sun failed to reach. Water mages pulled the saturation from the air, drawing it into freshwater cisterns that flooded through a complicated network of fountains and pipes managed by a team of metal mages. Fire mages were on standby in case of dragon attacks, but also in case of wild blazes that might raze a city made of wood. Some mages worked to keep the seas surrounding the cities calm, others to fix the rot eating the buildings away, more to create medicines and weapons and technologies vital to life within the mist. Without magic, they'd be lost. Even with it, his people struggled, the number of mages dwarfed by the number of humans with no magic in constant need of aid. There was only so much one person could do, even if that person was the most powerful man in the world.
By the time Lord Ferris left, Malek was utterly exhausted.
Unfortunately, his dreams rarely provided solace.
The work required of a king, at least in a world such as this, was never-ending. Even in sleep, he labored, no time to rest his mind. Maybe one day he would trust Lyana enough to share all these burdens. Maybe one day she would understand the true cost of being queen. Maybe one day they would together make the difficult decisions that came with saving the world.
Today was not that day.
The dream wrapped around him quickly, shoving aside whatever peace his sleep had brought. By the time he opened his eyes, the antechamber had formed anew around him—the heavy desk, the thick rug, the stone walls, and the chandelier powered by mage light. Malek allowed himself a brief moment of disappointment before turning to face his spy. Kasiandra always wove the most vivid scenes, smells and tastes and sights so real they reminded him of warmer days made of laughter and imagination and fun. But Kasiandra wasn't here.
"Gaspar," he said with a commanding voice. Like his other spies hidden in the world above, the man chose to appear before his king without wings. "What happened?"
"I just met with Captain Rokaro." The spy glanced to the floor, hesitating in a way that promised bad news.
Malek stifled a sigh. It would only make him appear weak. "And?"
"They found the dragon, but it died in the attack."
"It died…" He arched a brow. "Or they killed it?"
"There was an unforeseen complication. Captain Rokaro failed to inform the raven of the true purpose of the hunt. She didn't deem it necessary, given the nature of his magic. But the dragon got onto the ship, and he used a raven cry to distract it, then put a sword through its skull."
Malek bit back a curse. The raven was becoming a thorn in his side. Despite the worth of his magic, he seemed nothing more than a nuisance—winning Lyana's affection, turning Kasiandra from her mission, even getting through Captain Rokaro's otherwise stalwart defenses. Malek had learned of the promise she'd made the raven of a meeting with the king, an offer that wasn't her right to give, but he found he didn’t entirely mind. A curiosity he couldn't deny made him want to face the man. Maybe it would finally make him understand why Kasiandra now betrayed him with her insolence, why ever so often there was a distant look in Lyana's eyes, one filled with a warmth and longing she hadn't yet turned on him.