After leaving Matt and Tristan to their affairs, Cailu moved to the citadel’s foyer alone. Kirti was still occupying herself with whatever dark avocations she filled her pastimes with, but Naeemah had found her way back to the great hall. She was discussing quiet affairs with a dark-haired girl, Naeemah’s face serious and her voice soft. It was bittersweet to see her returned to her element—though the dark looks and sharp glances of other catgirls still in the palace did not escape his notice. Cailu was certain that the reestablished queen was also well aware of the tension within the grandiose walls.

Naeemah caught Cailu’s eye and offered a slight nod. She wanted him to wait. He shifted uncomfortably against the sling and rolled his shoulders. How long would it be until he could fight? Tristan and Matt should have a reliable escort to Nyarlothep for their first voyage, and Cailu wouldn’t prove much of a help if he was at such a severe disadvantage.

The glimmering of the dragon’s eyes in the gratuitously embellished throne raised the hackles on the back of his neck. He hoped Naeemah would have the gods-forsaken chair melted in a pit with the heinous cages trapping citizens above the walls.

“How did they do?” Naeemah asked, bringing Cailu back from the image of an enormous bonfire that smelled of burnt iron and charred gold.

“Well enough for a first day,” Cailu replied. “There is a courtyard filled with Encroachers and maintained by a [Hunter] who knows her craft.”

Naeemah nodded. “I’ll make a note to see her.” She looked behind her, long, golden earrings tinkling as she did. “Let us find some privacy?”

“You are far more familiar with the citadel than I.” Cailu gestured with his good arm. “Lead on.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she guided them past the throne and into a smaller corridor.

“I want to destroy that throne,” she sighed as they walked out of earshot of the women idling in the foyer.

“I was just thinking the same.” Cailu chuckled. “You have my full support.”

“It weighs as much as a gigashank. I could hardly lift one of the legs on my own.” Naeemah turned a corner and procured a key from her pack. “I’ll need as much support as I can receive.”

“Certainly some of the more capable hands outside will aid you. I can only lend you a single arm.” He tried to raise his hand in the sling and flinched. “Though, Kirti may resort to violence if I go against her orders.”

Naeemah’s eyebrows raised. “Is that so?” She slipped the key into a locked door and turned it to the side. The tumbler clicked on its release. “Do I need to speak with her?”

“No. I believe it is for my own good this time. You will be the first to know should my supposition change.” Cailu dismissed her concern with a wave.

“If you insist.” She leaned into the door, and it swung open. Cailu stepped inside, and she closed it behind him, resecuring the lock.

The outside light trickled in from the surrounding windows, illuminating the spacious chambers within. A plush bed covered with red, silken sheets was situated in the far back right corner, flanked by night tables made of dark, polished wood. Along the walls were multiple wardrobes, a writing desk, and round stands with vases of fresh flowers on display. Near the entrance were a twin set of sofas, separated by a narrow table of the same dark wood.

“Is this the grand chamber?” Cailu asked, noting the tapestries and paintings on the walls.

Naeemah shook her head. “If you mean Magni’s room, I believe he slept upstairs. All the better, as I’ll be able to,” she paused, rolling her options on her tongue, “refurnish it.”

Cailu chuckled and took a seat on one of the sofas. The space reminded him of Queen Nehalennia’s private rooms. A creeping tension crawled the length of his spine as the weight of expectation throbbed at his temples.

No. Naeemah has never asked for a child. He watched Naeemah glide to the sofa opposite and gracefully take a seat. My promise to her is fulfilled. And still, the dull ache in his chest suggested that he was not prepared for their parting.

“What has you so pensive, Cailu?” Naeemah asked softly, crossing her long legs beneath her skirts.

Cailu couldn’t cross his arms or fold his hands in his lap. Damn this sling! In a frustrated compromise, he rested his hand on his knee. “I fear that my departure will leave you at the mercy of wolves.”

“You’re worried about me?” Naeemah murmured.

Cailu blinked, working to keep his gaze leveled with hers, then nodded.

“When Krethik passed, it was only a few of us who took to the citadel to lead the rest. A temporary arrangement, we assured. Rājadhānī fought against us. Every city sent delegates in protest,” Naeemah explained. “They wanted to leave the seat open for the next man.”

This was a story she’d told him shortly after they’d begun traveling together. Tiny pieces of it collected and formed in his memory like the delicate threads of a spider’s web. At the time, he’d needed a capable warrior to assist him in forcing Nyarlea beneath his thumb. Naeemah’s history made no difference—she would accompany him so long as she was returned to her rightful station on her island.

How things have changed.

“A year passed. Then two. The angry voices quieted, and those in direct opposition’s opinions shifted in favor of my rule.” Naeemah smoothed her skirts. “These women just need time. Should the sands walk with me, time is a commodity I can offer them in ample quantities.”

“I know you can give them more than just time, Naeemah. You are a queen this island—this world—deserves,” Cailu replied, watching her hands. The soft, warm hand that had slid into his just hours earlier. The emerald eyes that had begged him to emerge victorious.

Naeemah studied his face for a long time. “Cailu, why not stay here?” Her voice softened. “With me?”

To his surprise, his initial reaction was to agree with her. Whoever may appear on Ichi could just as easily be whisked to San Island to take care of the girls there, leaving Cailu to assist in rebuilding Rājadhānī and the outlying cities. At Naeemah’s side. But…

Damn this world. Cailu inhaled deeply and sighed. “I cannot. I must ensure that Matt and Tristan arrive in Nyarlothep safely and discuss strategies to protect Nyarlea and its islands’ futures.”

“It does not have to be right now,” Naeemah countered. “Once you feel Matt and Tristan are ready to play the parts set before them, and you have reached an agreement that takes this world from your shoulders, you can return here.”

“Naeemah—”

She raised a hand before he could continue, a gesture she rarely deployed. “You have done your duty over and over again. You deserve to rest.” She lowered her gaze as her hand returned to her lap. “You deserve to find happiness. If not with me, then whenever you feel most at ease.”

The poignant sting of discordant emotions was as keen as Magni’s blade in his flesh. So many years before, in another lifetime, he’d pledged his heart and soul to his wife. Now, Naeemah’s invitation stirred a once-forgotten tonic of compassion and longing. Fera, do I betray your memory?

“I will consider it,” Cailu replied at last.

Naeemah stood, crossing to the second couch in two elegant strides before taking a seat beside him. Her shoulder touched his, and she tipped his chin to look at her. “What do you fear?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, cursing himself in silence for his racing heart.

“Liar.” Naeemah brushed his cheek with her thumb. “What are you afraid of?”

He searched the depths of her gaze, finding more of the singular emotion forbidden in Nyarlea.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a delicate, sensual kiss. Cailu’s breath caught in his chest, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to wrap his arm around her waist and reciprocate.

Naeemah… We cannot do this. Their connection was more than this. Better than this. He never wanted to view Naeemah as one of them—the women who followed him at every turn, pleading for their chance at offspring.

Cailu drew away and stood. Naeemah’s conflicted stare followed him—heartache painted in her expression. “We will stay until Matt, Keke, and Cannoli are ready to advance to Second Class.” Turning to the door, he switched the lock and pried it open the width of a few fingers. “I would not want to impose longer than necessary.”

“As you wish,” Naeemah replied, not moving from the sofa.

He exited the room and closed the door behind him, unable to spare Naeemah another look. The ghost of her kiss echoed through his skin, and he shook his head to clear it.

I am afraid of you, Naeemah.