Ayana flung open her balcony doors and clutched the railing like a lifeline, her maroon saree crumpling against the metal. She hung her head and tried to swallow the summer air, but the mounting frustration was too much.
“This is my duty.” She pressed her knuckles to her eyes, heavy bangles clinking with the movement. “I have to feed and house a nation. I do not have time to entertain suitors.”
“What did you do, Umma?” Ayana desperately searched the stars for a response.
There was no answer from the darkness. She closed her eyes. The ocean crashed on distant rocks, thunderous even at its great distance. The breeze carried the scent of burning incense, filling the palace with memories.
Not for the first time, Ayana felt the crushing pit of loneliness threaten to swallow her, wishing for the friend she’d surrendered to the sands of time. Still, she whispered to the air, “One day …”
“One day for what, Rani?”
She barely stopped the undignified shriek from leaving her throat. “Perhaps we should put a bell on you, Jadestriker. I fear you are too light-footed for my constitution.”
“I did knock, Rani.”
There was such mirth in that voice, such teasing … Ayana’s chest constricted, fingers flexing under a phantom touch she was not allowed. With a forced laziness, she tilted her head, catching those brilliant green eyes in her periphery.
“How may I aid you this evening, my general-to-be?”
Kavisha clicked their tongue and stepped onto the balcony proper. Their soldier’s bulk filled the space, making the enormous entryways seem small.
“I see Arjun sir has been speaking with you.”
“He does seem rather adamant on retiring, does he not?”
“Retiring my ass,” they muttered, so low she would not have picked up on it. Except that she was starved of their voice and could focus on nothing else.
“Do not worry, Jadestriker. I will not force you into a position you do not desire. Though, I must say, Arjun Mamaya was quite adamant about his replacement.”
Ayana turned fully, brows raised playfully.
She did not realize how often she avoided looking at them until the full force of that emerald stare ensnared her. Almost unwillingly, her eyes traced the planes of their face, trying to memorize as much as possible.
Dangerous, she thought, reluctantly turning away. I have no right to look at them like that. Like I missed them. Like they are mine.
Her chest pulsed like a wound. As she faced outward to the ocean, she could not help the hand lifting to her chest to soothe the insatiable longing.
“He always was a stubborn one.”
That voice. Gravelly and rumbling. So close, so close.
She willed her body to not tense when Kavisha stepped up next to her at the railing. Their shoulder occupied the space next to her head. Then, their arms brushed, and she almost shattered. Her throat constricted rebelliously. It will consume her, the wanting.
“Yana?”
Her eyes fluttered shut at the nickname, dusted in cobwebs and the rust of a broken friendship.
“My apologies.” Her voice barely carried above the crackling fires below. “What were you saying?”
They were looking at her and she was caught once more. How could she look away? When this is all she’s wanted for years?
Kavisha stared at her for a moment longer. When they spoke, it was almost as if they had come to a decision in their own head.
“It is … good to see you again, Ayana.”
She usually woke up now — heart shattering as she realized it was all a fantasy. But as the seconds tick by, she was still here. In this moment she had dreamed of for ten years.
This … is real?
The yawning chasm in her chest ignited with exhausted hope. She smiled then, losing all control of her reactions.
“It is good to see you as well. Kavisha.”
She hesitated on their name, asking for forgiveness and permission all at once.
They weren’t healed yet. This would not undo years of mistrust, but … it was a start.
