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  I ordered the lights on at thirty percent, just enough to give the room a soft, warm glow.

  She looked around again, chest still heaving, but she finally saw the room.

  I held her hand. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Please try to breathe.” I took a breath to help guide her. “Six in. Come on. Slow your breathing before you—”

  She shoved my hand away and bolted for the bathroom. The sounds of her losing the little bit of food she’d eaten this evening filled the room.

  I rubbed my hands down my face. Damn the Goddess for letting her suffer.

  She didn’t like it when I followed her into the bathroom, so I settled into our nightly routine.

  I stood from her bed and went to the diffuser in her room, adding a few drops of scents meant to calm. If nothing else, they’d drive away the scent of sulfur that haunted her. Then I turned on some music. It was soft, also meant to calm, and was set to the healing frequency.

  The last step was to calm myself. If I was calm, she’d be calmer. She was my shalshasa, and if nothing else, I could tame her frequency with my own.

  I did the breathing exercise, and in a minute, I felt her calming down, too.

  Good. That was better.

  I’d found out the hard way that she hated throwing up in front of me. It didn’t bother me—I’d rather be in there with her even if it was just to hold her hair back—but I wanted to respect her privacy.

  But I’d given her enough time in the bathroom. I was going in.

  Chapter Nine

  LORNE

  I placed my hand on the panel, and the bathroom door slid open, revealing Amihanna sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with her back against the bathtub. Her head was in her hands. Her back bowed with the failure of yet another night interrupted by her dreams. Her hair fell in front of her face, but from the soft sniffles, I knew she was crying.

  My heart shattered to see her so defeated, but she was still beautiful. Still mine. And she wasn’t broken. Not really. I just had to find a way to show her.

  I grabbed a washcloth from beside the sink and ran it under some hot water, adding a few drops of calming scent to it, before handing it to her.

  Her hands shook as she took it from my hand. She held it in front of her nose, breathing in the scent deeply before rubbing it down her face and neck.

  I sat in front of her. “Better?”

  She looked at me like I was an idiot for asking when I knew the answer, but I still had to ask it.

  “Please, talk to me. Let me in. Let me help.”

  “I’m letting you help.” She wiped her face again. “You’re here.”

  “Only because I force my way in every night.” I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. She never did.

  Usually, I helped her up and back into bed, but not tonight. We couldn’t keep doing this. I was exhausted, and I knew she had to be, too, especially with how hard Declan was pushing her during the day.

  “I’m not leaving until you tell me at least one thing that you’re thinking about.” And now I had to be patient. I had to be more stubborn than her. I wouldn’t leave tonight until she gave me at least one little crumb to tide me over until tomorrow night.

  After a few minutes, she finally broke her silence. “I thought you wouldn’t come tonight.”

  My mouth dropped open, but no sound came out for a moment. That’s what she was thinking right now? “Why wouldn’t I come?” I couldn’t understand what would make her think that.

  A tear slipped free, tracking wetness down her perfect cheek. “Nothing. Never mind. It’s stupid.”

  I reached out, wiping the tear away. “It’s not nothing if it makes you cry. Why wouldn’t I come?” I’d been here every night since she woke up from her coma. Twenty-two nights of haunted, terror-filled dreams. She had to know by now that nothing would keep me from being here when she needed me.

  “I thought…” Her gaze darted around, looking everywhere but at me.

  I wanted to shake the answer out of her, but I had to be patient.

  I was going to be patient.

  She needed me to be patient. I would wait for her to say the rest. I would—

  “Why wouldn’t I come?” I didn’t mean to yell the question at her. I didn’t even mean to ask it. But my own ears were ringing from it.

  Amihanna’s red-rimmed eyes were wide, and she looked ashamed.

  Goddess. What was wrong with me?

  I banged my head into the wall behind me and closed my eyes. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” My control was shattering more every day, but I had to remember that she was here. It would get better. It had to.

  “I didn’t mean—I don’t know why I said that.” Her words were so soft that I barely heard them.

  My skin heated with frustration, so I kept my eyes closed. “Yes, you do. Just tell me. I won’t judge anything you think or feel.”

  There was a small noise, and I knew she was still twisting the washcloth in her hands. At least I wasn’t the only frustrated one.

  “I guess I thought you might be mad or disappointed.”

  “Disappointed?” Okay. Now, I was getting somewhere. “About what?”

  “About…” She sighed. “How I don’t want to be queen and that maybe I wasn’t really worth all this—”

  My father was a dead man. I opened my eyes so that she could see the truth in my soul. “You are worth everything to me, and I meant it when I said you didn’t have to be queen.”

  She bit her lip, and another tear slipped free.

  This woman… I let out a slow breath, trying to find the right words. Ones that would keep her talking to me. Something that would stop her from pushing me away. From running whenever I entered the room or telling me to leave.

  Rysden was right about one thing. We couldn’t keep doing what we were doing. I needed to try something new.

  So, I’d lay my heart out and hope. “Amihanna.”

  “Stop it.” Her glow filled the room so bright, and I absolutely loved the way she instantly reacted to the sound of me saying her name.

  “I can’t. It’s the only way I ever get a reaction from you.” I reached out and gripped her ankle. I needed to touch her. To be closer to her. “It haunts me, too. I panicked when I realized where you were. I headed straight for you, but then Declan called. He told me you needed rescuing, and I was terrified of so many things—of the danger you were in, of not getting there in time, of what I might feel when I saw you.”

  “No, you were not scared of what you might feel. I don’t buy that.”

  “It’s true. I wasn’t sure what to expect. We always had a strong connection, but I hadn’t seen you in years. People could change and…but when you jumped into my ship, it was like I’d been shoved into deep space without a suit. All the air was gone. You were more beautiful than I could’ve imagined. The connection I felt to you was still there, stronger than before, and…” And she was everything.

  “I was bleeding out my ears from my brain.” She gave a soft huff, and I knew she didn’t believe me. “I’d been through too many rounds of nanos. I was exhausted and flat out done with life. I’m sure I looked like hell. There’s no way I was beautiful.”

  She was wrong. So very wrong. “You were breathtaking. You had blood dripping down your face, yet you were strong, fearless, tough. I almost fell to my knees then and there to tell you that I wasn’t worthy. And then you nearly killed yourself to help us all get away.” I tried to push the fear away, but every time I remembered her on the floor of my ship. She was curled up in a ball, screaming and writhing and throwing up from the pain. I tortured her with the jumps through space…

  I almost killed her.

  I swallowed down the anger and fear. It was past. Over. Done. “I wish you could see you how I see you.” I rubbed my thumb up and down her ankle. “I wish you’d let me in so that I could help.”

  She stared at the washcloth in her hand, twisting it in her hands until it was a tight ball. “I…I’m still
so mad about everything. I don’t know how to turn that off.” She looked at me then, and if she were any angrier, there would’ve been flames in her eyes. “How do I let that kind of anger go? It burns so deep in my soul, bubbles in my veins, and seeps out through the cracks in my subconscious—”

  She stopped suddenly, and I ached to pull her to me. To hold her. To tell her that everything would be all right.

  “I feel the same anger. What happened to you wasn’t fair. I truly believe that it would’ve been avoidable if Declan had given me your location that first night. I would’ve come. That he didn’t tell me and you suffered? I’m having a hard time letting go of that anger, too.”

  “If you came, then it would’ve started a war.”

  I gave her ankle a little shake. Declan had put that seed in her mind, and it had driven both of their bad decisions. But it was a fallacy. “And how is that different from now? We’ve always been on the brink of war. The second they started slaughtering our people, it was inevitable. Only my father’s cowardice stalled it for a time. By not telling me where you were, Declan only made sure you suffered.”

  “Not intentionally.” Her mumbled defense sounded half-hearted at best.

  “Of course. Declan had the best of intentions, but that doesn’t change that you were assaulted. Thrown in jail. Tortured. Nearly burned to death more than once. Actually did die so that we could escape, and only by the miracle of our healing pods and your stubborn will for life, came back to me.” I let out a long breath.

  My anger would feed hers, so I couldn’t stoke it too much, but maybe her knowing that it was inside of me would help her overcome her own anger. “So, yes. I’m angry at everything that happened because it could’ve been avoided.” I smiled at her and hoped it wasn’t too bitter. “I blame myself for not stowing you on my ship when you were six like I’d planned.”

  “You did?” There was a soft note of hope in her tone. A crack in the facade.

  “Yes, I nearly did.” It was time to tell her a little bit of that story. She’d asked earlier, and it didn’t seem important, but it was.

  “Why?”

  “Because I was scared to leave you on Earth. Things were changing quickly, but your father thought that because we had Declan, SpaceTech wouldn’t act. He talked me out of it. Promised me that nothing would happen while he was gone. We were nearly to Sel’Ani when Liberation Week started. We tried to get back—your father did go back—but…”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story, but…I regret that I didn’t save you thirteen years ago. And I regret even more that I didn’t demand your location from Declan so that I could come for you myself.”

  “That would’ve been bad. If you’d been caught on Earth—”

  “I didn’t have the chance to get caught. Or maybe if things had gone differently from the start, I would’ve found you before you had to run, and we would’ve gone to war thirteen years ago. We can’t change what’s already happened. We have to focus on what’s ahead of us.”

  Rysden was right. Time was running out. After long years of waiting and negotiating, war was here. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But soon. Very, very soon. I needed to take the throne, and we’d have to decide what that meant for us. But I wanted to give her as much time as possible. My biggest fear was that she’d say no. That she wouldn’t want to marry me. And being king without her by my side…it just didn’t appeal to me at all.

  I’d do it. I’d have to. But if I had a shot at a life with her, I’d take that instead.

  This was good. She was talking tonight. Progress. I’d hold on to that.

  She cleared her throat. “I thought I wasn’t going to make it, and I was okay. Dying would’ve been easier than this.”

  I knew she’d felt that—I knew it when she woke up—but to hear her say it so plainly was as if someone had stabbed me through the heart and then twisted the blade until my heart was fully shredded.

  She met my gaze. “I don’t know that I can be the queen. I don’t think I have that in me.”

  Goddess help me. How could she think so little of herself? How could she not see? How could I make her understand? “You do. You don’t think so, but you’re strong. Everything that you’ve gone through will make you a more compassionate ruler, and I truly believe that you’d excel at it.”

  “I’ve been watching the news. The Aunare hate me as much as the Earthers.”

  I knew she liked to keep tabs on both our news and Earth’s, but she was taking it too much to heart. The news across the universe was bleak—full of suffering, violence, and structured to create fear in everyone who watched so that the citizens could be manipulated. “They don’t hate you.”

  She made a face at me. “Liar.”

  It wasn’t a lie exactly, but I didn’t want to risk her pushing me away again. I had to be careful. “You can’t believe everything you see on the news. I agree it does look bleak. And, yes, there are some Aunare who don’t like you, but it’s not the common feeling. Our reporters enjoy drama just as much as the Earther ones, and they’re stoking that drama. But a lot of the Aunare want to see us married as planned. They’ve all heard what the High Priestess said about you—about us as rulers—and they see it coming true in you. They believe in you. They find you strong, honest, and wise beyond your years. And if they didn’t see any of that, I wouldn’t care. The Aunare need you, but I need you more.”

  She pressed her lips together, and I knew she was waiting for me to say something else.

  Okay. I needed to give her something to do. Something that could make her feel more comfortable here. “If you would leave the estate and make an appearance, I think it would show them that you are Aunare, and you’re not broken, and the media will stop fixating on you.”

  “I’m not Aunare. I’m a halfer.”

  That was way too technical. “Your Aunare half is dominant. Which means you’re Aunare.”

  “But I’ll still always be half. Nothing can change that. I’m a stranger who doesn’t know the language and customs and—”

  My skin flared bright. “Don’t. I’m too tired for you to turn this around. You are Aunare, but even if your skin didn’t have a hint of a glow, if you had no sensitivity to frequencies around us, if you had no fao’ana—”

  “I don’t have any fao’ana, so—”

  “You do. You’re blocked, but they’re there.”

  “No, they’re not. I saw the replay. Barely-there shadows flickered, and they said that I was broken and damaged and dangerous. And they said that some of my notes were gibberish. One guy said I’d faked it somehow.”

  We’d watched the same report then, but that idiot was wrong.

  This was something I could fix. I got up—leaving her still sitting there with her back against the tub—and went to her bedside table, grabbing the tablet. I placed my hand on it, and the screen activated.

  But it was in Aunare. That didn’t make sense. She didn’t speak Aunare. Declan had been trying, but she hadn’t learned more than hello, good-bye, and thank you.

  Unless…unless she had learned more. Or remembered more.

  I walked back to her. “Do you…do you understand this?” Hope that her memory was coming back bloomed so bright, but then I saw the shame on her face, and the hope in my heart withered and wilted until it was dead.

  “No. I hit something earlier, and the translation stopped. I can’t figure out how to get it back on, and I was too embarrassed to ask anyone to fix it for me, especially since everyone was busy with the party.”

  I stared at the tablet, trying to gather up the dusty remains of my shattered hope before she noticed.

  It didn’t matter if she didn’t understand Aunare. She could use a translator forever. But the fact that she couldn’t learn it made me wonder about what kind of damage the sham of a doctor had done whenever he messed around in her brain. The way her fao’ana flickered could be related to that, too. That something could be wrong with her brain that hadn’t been fixed in
our healing pod sent shards of ice-cold fear into my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

  She needed to see the High Priestess, but I couldn’t convince her to leave the estate for anything. At least I hadn’t been able to. Maybe I could try again.

  I cleared my throat, and clicked a few buttons, activating the translation software again. The writing switched from the swirling Aunare letters to Earther English. “Fixed.”

  I clicked through to log into my files and found my folder of images of Amihanna when she was a child. With a few clicks, I found one with her fao’ana. “Here.” I handed her the tablet.

  She stood up and took it from me. A little wrinkle formed between her brows. She stared at it for a full minute before looking up at me. “It doesn’t feel like me.”

  I hated that her mother had done this to her. “It is you. I swear it.”

  “I know it’s me, but… How come I’ve never seen them? Not once in thirteen years. They flickered tonight, but they didn’t look like this.”

  “I don’t know why exactly, but I have a theory.” Maybe if I shared some of my fears, she’d keep letting me in. We could trade. “I’m worried that the doctor who did your wipe might have done something he shouldn’t have.” There was more, but she wasn’t ready to hear more. Not when her hands were shaking so bad that I had to take the tablet before she dropped it. “I think you need to see the High Priestess. She might be able to help.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Whether you want to be or not, you’re Aunare, but you need to heal.” I sighed. “If you slept, stopped working out until you’re exhausted, and ate—”

  “I eat!”

  “No. You don’t.” I left her bathroom and set the tablet down on the bedside table with a thwack. “You move the food around on the plate, taking a bite here or there when your mother is watching you.”

  She gave me a shove. “I sleep as much as I can.”

  “I know you do. I know, but if you let me sleep in here, you’d sleep better. You’d get a solid night.”