Deven turns to look behind him, and the prince rushes off. I consider calling Ashwin back, but anything I say will only hurt him more. I do not care for him the same way I do for Deven, but I do care.

Deven turns back to me and touches Ashwin’s cuff around my wrist, his gaze cool and reserved. “Did you promise yourself to him?”

“I’m not promised to anyone. Ashwin and I are friends.”

“He wants you to be more.”

Deven’s jealousy exasperates me. “You hardly know him.”

“I know he cannot be trusted. He unleashed the Voider.”

I understand how Ashwin’s actions could be seen as a betrayal, but Deven is wrong to blame him. “He had no choice. The vizier had started the incantation and wouldn’t stop until it was finished. Ashwin couldn’t have foreseen who the Voider would return as.” An image of Tarek throwing blue fire fills my mind, and dread threatens to throttle me. But I do not blame Ashwin for the physical form the Voider took. “I trust Ashwin. He respects me, and he isn’t afraid of my powers.”

Deven tempers his voice. “I’m not afraid of you either. When I saw you flying on that fire dragon, you nearly stopped my heart.”

“With fear?”

“Admiration. You were spectacular.” He caresses my chin. “I’m proud of you.”

His praise itches in an uncomfortable place. “I’m only one-quarter bhuta,” I confess. “The Janardanians have a myth that Ki and Kur were lovers and had a child together. I didn’t believe it at first, but it’s true. Enlil is Kur’s son.”

“If you’re right, all that means is that you’re equally bhuta and demon.”

Deven’s answer is terribly inconclusive. “So am I good or bad?” I ask.

“We’re all a little of both.” He holds my hand to his chest. “Anu claimed Enlil as his son. Regardless of who fathered the fire-god, Anu believed Enlil was good and gave his powers to mortals. You’re born from goodness, Kali. It’s in your soul.”

I remember the pain when I tried to scorch the Voider. Nothing good dwelled within it, only cold, ruthless fire. My soul-fire is not the same, and that is enough to satisfy me for now. Deven’s comfort is precisely what I needed, but I also needed him during the trial tournament. My aching for him erupts all at once, and hot tears crowd my vision.

“I’m sorry, Kali.” He lifts my hands and kisses the backs where my rank marks have faded. “I didn’t want you to leave. I was too focused on our duties to the empire.”

“I’m more than my throne.”

“Of course you are.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I love you. I thought about it a lot since we’ve been apart, and what a fool I was for not telling you.”

“Even though my hands don’t carry my rank, I’m still the kindred. I cannot desert Ashwin to save the empire alone.” Too many people died for peace, Citra being the freshest wound on my heart. Blood is on my hands, and the only way to wash it away is to earn the peace others have died for. “This is who I am. I belong to my throne.”

“And I’m still your guard.”

My fingers thread through the silken hair at his nape, my other hand roaming his soft beard. “I fell in love with my guard.”

Deven presses his forehead against mine. I graze my lips over his, and he bundles me nearer. Our kiss drowns out most of the fears hanging over us. The sunrise will bring with it preparations for war. A battle must be fought against the Voider, and we must win. But for one treasured moment, I nestle into Deven’s side and let all else be.