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.”