Two days passed. I spent my time in complete silence, staring vaguely out of the window, listening to the palace’s music below me, doing everything in my power not to think of Andiya, or how her eyes had been so cold—or how she’d pretended like I’d meant nothing at all.

Did I mean nothing?

I tried to keep the doubts back, keep my trust in her, but the thoughts still managed to slip through. We were in Kaelta now. Andiya had no need to pretend to care, or to pretend she was my friend. Was it all a lie? Did she really care about me, about the human world, or was it all a trick to bring her here?

I barely slept. I couldn’t.

I curled up in bed, pressing my forehead to the wall. My cell door opened, but I ignored it. It didn’t matter.

A hand poked my side. The birch-skinned servant blinked nervously at me.

“What?” I asked.

The servant moved to the open cell bars waved me to follow.

The moon hung bright in the dark sky, making it somewhere after midnight. Silently, we secreted through the palace. We slipped through the courtyards, careful to dodge the few courtiers strolling around them, and continued right out of the surrounding walls. A warm ocean breeze caught my hair, smelling of salt and the sweetness of jungle flowers. The servant ushered me towards a set of stairs that jutted out from the sea wall. When my foot hit the first step, they bowed once and fluttered quickly away.

The stairs, carved straight from the cliffs, led down to a star-lit, black-sand beach. It was a continuation of the palace complex, the beach dotted with pillowed beach chairs, obsidian dining tables, parasols, and rock pools that steamed like hot springs. In the moonlight, the waters glowed faintly silver.

A hooded figure stood right in the water’s edge, draped in a dark cloak. The cloak’s hem floated in the waves, the sea rolling gently in the light breeze.

At the sound of my approach, the figure turned and threw back their hood. Impossibly red hair, a row of pearls. Scarlet, beautiful eyes. I broke into a dead sprint, my bare feet splashing into the water. We met with a crash. Andiya drew me into a crushing hug.

I gripped her back, holding her to me. She wore some perfume of cinnamon and spices, and I buried my face in her hair, just keeping her close. I didn’t know where we stood. I didn’t know what she wanted with me. But right now, this was all I needed. Andiya was alive, and well, and she was here.

“Rozin,” she breathed. One of her hands travelled over my shoulder, up my neck, her thumb resting on my jaw. I shivered. Andiya lifted my face from her hair and then she was there, an inch away, her breath washing over my skin. Waiting. As she’d been waiting a long time, I knew, for me to see her as she wanted me to. As her own; not as my burden, my guilt.

My forehead touched hers. She breathed in softly, the sound almost lost in the gentle crash of waves. Standing there, the water washing over our ankles, the moon bathing us in silver, the world felt so clear, so calm. I loved Andiya. No matter what that would cost me.

I kissed her.

She was soft and warm, flush with my chest, her fingers so gentle on my jaw. Andiya tasted of spices and woodsmoke, the same delicious, head-spinning scent I always caught from her skin. The kiss was slow, gentle, testing the space between us. And it felt right. It felt as though this was where I belonged, with Andiya in my arms, wherever that may be.

She kissed me back, pressing the nape of my neck. The kiss deepened, and my breathing went tight. Andiya’s grip tightened. Heat flashed up my spine. I could want this forever. I’d never need anything, anyone else. Only her.

I pulled her waist, pressing her harder to me. Andiya gasped against my lips. All I could focus on was her; wanting her, feeling her, tasting her on my tongue. I felt alive in ways that I thought were long dead, that had been torn out of me after Barje Vos. I’d never really wanted anyone after Kamala. The women after her had only been a release, numb minded, ephemeral. But I wanted this to last. To wake every morning with Andiya in my arms. To feel her on top of me, as I had at the inn.

Andiya moved my hand to the gold collar at her throat. “Take it off,” she breathed. “I can’t feel you.”

I flicked open a fine clasp, and the collar tumbled into the sand.

And she was there. Andiya’s mind filled me in a boiling wave. I felt winded, my body setting itself on fire. Her every kiss was laced with a burning, desperate desire, echoing from her body to mine. My fingers wound tight in her hair. Her kisses travelled down to the hollow of my jaw, down my neck. Then her hand slid under the hem of my shirt, brushing sensitive skin. I couldn’t quiet my small gasp. Here. Now. On some empty beach against the roaring sea—

Andiya pulled me out of the water. She waved her hand, and light flared to life behind us. Carved into the black cliff were deep alcoves set with multitudes of tiny lamps, their floors an intricate pattern of wave-like tiles. They mirrored the palace above, each one furnished like lavish pleasure rooms. Andiya made for one of them: set inside was a wide bed draped in rich blankets, its canopy of diaphanous cerulean. Of course. This beach was a palace for courtiers, for royalty. And what queen did not want to take her pleasures in full view of a sparkling sea?

Andiya spun us, pinning herself under me on the bed. I kissed her fiercely, feeling her squirm and gasp as she arched her back on the silks. I let her touch me, run her hands on my stomach, sides, up my ribs. She gripped my shirt and drew it off, kissing down my throat as it went. Her teeth nipped at my collarbone, and I shuddered.

“You’re afraid,” Andiya purred against me. “Don’t be afraid. Do you remember what I said to you at the inn?”

I couldn’t remember anything with her hands on me, grazing my ribs, sweeping just below my breast band.

“I’ve touched you enough, Rozin,” she growled in my ear. “Touch me. I promised to enjoy it.”

My self-control snapped. I tore away her delicate gold belt, and her dress fell open, the deep fabric sliding from her body like a waterfall. A tiny silk slip was all that covered her beneath it, tight on her soft curves. I ran my hand up the silk, cupping her breast, relishing the softness. Andiya cried out faintly as my thumb pressed her peaked nipple and swirled roughly. My grip hardened. She grappled my other wrist and ran it up her thigh.

“Not yet,” I growled. “You wanted me to touch you. Let me do it.”

I kissed down her neck, down her chest, and yanked her slip down. I took her nipple in my mouth.

Andiya gasped and arched, forcing herself closer, tighter. My teeth grazed her as my hand dug into her hip. Andiya’s thighs spread wide, taking me in, and she ground against me slowly. I savoured her caught breathing, her gasps, her gentle cries. I moved rougher, fingers digging deep in her skin, nipping at the softness of her breast, taking in every signal that she wanted more. I began grinding back and forth in a slow rhythm, careful to just brush between her legs with my body every so often.

“Rozin—” she tried, and gasped when I bit her ribcage.

I dragged a hand along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “So impatient.”

“Hurry up.”

I didn’t. Instead, I pushed up the silk slip, bunching it at her waist. I closed what little space remained between us, pulling Andiya into a fierce kiss. She melted in my arms, relinquishing any control. A rush of power filled me with heat. Andiya was a being of terrible, devastating strength; she was a force that could level cities, grind monarchs into dust. But she was here, tortured with need at my touch, desperate to feel me on her.

My hand travelled up her thigh, following the softness to its head. My fingers found a wetness that made my head spin. Andiya rolled against my fingers, welcoming them in. I obliged her. My finger slid in, then another, my thumb pushing at the apex between her legs. Andiya moaned, her nails digging into my shoulder. She reached to my waistband, but I shoved her hand away. I kept working at her, kissing trailing lower and lower. I paused just below her navel, my hand freezing. Waiting to hear her need.

“Do it. Damn you, Rozin, just fucking do it—”

My mouth joined my fingers. I ran my tongue along her, into her, tasting her heat as she moaned and balled a fist in my hair. Andiya pushed me in deeper. My hand and tongue worked in tandem, my free hand clawed at her hip, locking her to me. Andiya’s cries grew louder, her breathing more ragged. I found the spot that made her gasp and flinch, and hit it over and over.

“Don’t stop,” she growled. “Don’t you fucking dare.” As if I would.

I felt the moment she went over the edge. Andiya went taut, her voice caught, and she tightened around my hand. Her thighs crushed my head. I kept working her through it, taking in every delicious moment. When she went limp, I withdrew and braced my hands at her knees.

I just stared at her, my body aching, needing more of her. Andiya smirked at me, her body shining with sweat, a sharp tooth poking her lip.

“Even better than your memories,” she said through pants.

I pressed a kiss to her inner knee. “You watched me with others?”

“I was curious. You never spoke of any women, let alone any that you had.”

“And what did you think?”

Her smirk widened. “Those memories certainly kept me up at night. I may have watched them more than once—several times, that night at the inn. Are you angry with me for it?”

“Very. But I do think there’s a way to make me forget.”

Andiya surged up, hooking a finger in my waistband. She tossed me underneath her like I weighed nothing at all, the display of pure power sending a shiver down my neck. She gripped the delicate, silky clothing that the servant had given me, tearing them from my body like tissue paper. Using my hand, she drew the slip over her head. Andiya was wholly naked on top of me, flush in the cheeks with desire, her hair mussed, small curls stuck to her skin from sweat. She shoved me down and kissed me forcefully, tasting herself on my lips, her strength pinning and crushing me, but all I wanted was rougher, harder. Her fingers slid low, up my thigh, against my wetness. She drew a harsh cry from my throat, and she smiled against my lips at the sound. I surrendered to her, let myself gasp and moan at every incredible stroke as I had never allowed myself to before. Through the bond, I let her feel my pleasure, let know that I allowed her to see a part of me that no one else ever had. When I tightened, she slowed, taking my nipple between her teeth. Then she moved back, always bringing me just to the edge before pulling away. I realised what she was doing. Andiya was using the bond, reacting to my pleasure as it built and fell, drawing it out.

“Let me—let me—”

She pressed a wet finger to my mouth. “Trust me.”

Her thumb pressed my lip down, and I tasted myself; then her hand returned to where I wanted, needed it to.

When Andiya finally finished me, it was a release I’d never known. My entire body trembled with it as climax took me, dragging out a strangled cry. It stretched on and on, so long my vision popped with stars.

I went slack on the sheets, gasping for air.

Andiya lay beside me, pressing her body into my side. The lanterns flickered gently, the sea crashing just beyond the alcove.

“No one knows we’re gone,” Andiya murmured. She swirled a finger against my hip bone, drawing a shiver. “We have all night, Rozin.”

“And I intend to make the most of it,” I sent into her mind, and a renewed flash of heat passed up the bond.