“S o? What do you think?”
When we returned to our temporary home, Tisaanah sagged over
her desk, rubbing her temples.
“I don’t know,” Tisaanah said. “I don’t think it will be simple to separate Caduan from his throne. And I do not like the sound of what Ishqa proposes, smashing his country to pieces to weaken its foundation. I have seen that story before. But…” She let out a long breath through her teeth. “But. He’s also right. What other choice does he have?”
“I don’t trust that man. I don’t think he can do this.”
“He doesn’t seem capable of it,” Tisaanah admitted. “But Ishqa seems to believe it would work, and his judgment has helped us many times before.”
I thought of the look on Ishqa’s face earlier. The desperation. The regret. “I think there are a lot of reasons why Ishqa would want to believe a broken person can change.”
The corner of her mouth quirked. “You did.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so instead I grumbled something wordless.
“We have so little control over the Fey,” she went on. “We barely understand them. Even if we disagree with Ishqa’s plans, I do not think we could stop him. But Ara…”
Just the sound of the name made me nauseous. “Right,” I said. “Ara.”
Tisaanah at last abandoned her papers. She stood, giving me that look— the kind that cut right through me, seeing all sorts of things I didn’t want
her to see.
“I do think you would make a wonderful king,” she said, quietly, a tiny smile at once side of her mouth.
I scoffed. “You don’t need to flatter me to get me into bed. We’re long past that.”
“I am serious.”
“So am I! Please, Tisaanah. Let’s think about this. Can you think of anyone less well-suited to prancing around with an Ascended-damned crown on his head than me?”
Her expression soured. “I can think of at least one other person.” Fair. I walked into that one.
She stepped closer, taking my hand loosely in hers. “Perhaps you have never seen yourself as a king. But you have always been a leader, crown or no. The people you led during the war still remember and support you. That did not go away because of Nura’s lies.”
“What about the other lies, though? That admiration is built on things like Sarlazai and wild rumors about whatever I did during the war. None of that was me.”
“Perhaps some of it. Just as it is for me. My people see a version of me that is bigger than reality, too.”
“That’s different.” “Why?”
“Because you’re…”
Words evaded me. What I was thinking was, Better.
She gave me a bemused smile. “Did your name become a legend because of stories and exaggerations? Yes, perhaps partly, but there is no legend that is anything but. And they are not fighting for Maxantarius Farlione, the legend. The thing they actually fight for is respect—respect you earned, by standing beside them. It wasn’t the legend that did that. It was the man.”
She looked at me like she actually believed all of these things. Sometimes, that alone was almost enough to make me believe them, too. Almost.
“Does it even matter?” I said. “Do I deserve that trust?”
The corner of her mouth tightened. “I always ask myself that question.” I almost laughed at that one. I understood why the rebels trusted
Tisaanah. She had given them everything. She fought for them. She listened
to them. She built them up. Of course they respected her. They would be fucking idiots not to.
The one upside, perhaps, to being a king would be the ability to make Tisaanah a queen.
“Here is what I think,” she said, quietly. “I think it is a risk. I think it might not work. But I also think—no, know—that you will be a good leader for Ara in a time of few good things. You don’t have to do it forever, just until this war is over. Until Nura is dealt with.”
I sighed and leaned my forehead against hers. I wanted to say,
Absolutely fucking not. This is a terrible idea.
Instead I said, “Why do you do this to me?” “What?”
“Make me do things. You’re always making me do things.”
She laughed. “As soon as the war is done, I will never make you do a single thing ever again.”
My chest clenched a little. It was rare that I ever heard Tisaanah talk about the future. Hearing her mention it, for some reason, made all of this seem a bit lighter.
Her enormous mismatched eyes looked up to meet mine. I was close enough to see every thread of color within them.
“Come with me,” I said. “If I do this, I need you.” She chuckled. “You don’t need me.”
Oh no, you don’t understand, I thought. I very, very much do.
But before I could say anything, her mouth pressed against mine in a long, deep kiss.
“Yes,” she said, against my lips, when we parted. “I’ll go with you.”
