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She gaped. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

“It’s what I think—-” And this time, Khalil’s dark gaze held a serious look of warning. “—-but you and I and the others are not allowed to say anything.”

“B-but—-”

He said very gently, “Malikta.”My queen.“It is their lives, and so we must allow them to make their own decisions as they see fit.”

“I know that,” she exclaimed in frustration. “But didn’t you see Kyria’s face when Malik suggested KC’s schools to her? He was hurting her!”

“Even so.” The king sighed, and seeing his wife prepare to start arguing with him again, he forestalled her words with a shake of his head. “Let me ask you this. Has Kyria told you that she is in love with Malik?”

She bit her lip. “No.”

“Has Kyria told you that she’s stopped seeing him as her brother?”

“No,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Then you mustn’t say another word that could influence her. I know this whole thing seems romantic, but you mustn’t forget Kyria is just eighteen. She’s young, impressionable. A word from you and especially from Malik could change her mind, but would it really be her decision? My brother is suffering, too, Harper. More so than Kyria, I would suspect, because unlike her – he is certain of his feelings for her. Unlike her, Malik knowsexactlywhat he had lost – just as he knows there’s no guarantee he can have it back.”



















Part IV

ST. VALENTINE WAS CONTINI’Swinter capital, a city blessed with spectacular snow-capped mountains and flower fields that went as far as the eyes could see. Tourists abounded for as long as snow fell, and in the day, they would come skiing down any of St. Valentine’s majestic slopes, and once darkness ushered in they would take refuge in the hallowed halls of any of the tastefully opulent chateaus that lined the picture-perfect avenue of Rodestein. There, the sound of gaiety often rang well past the last hour of the night, with many guests delighting in post-dinner chats in front of the fireplace while enjoying toasted sweets and hot chocolate. Others danced the night away, swaying to the lilting notes played by classical quartets, which locals greatly preferred to any kind of modern-day music that involved screaming or head-banging.

Indeed, these were magical moments, but as soon as the snow melted, the crowds faded, and as spring turned into summer, a quiet would settle, and it was during this time of the year locals would have their beloved city to themselves.

Was it terribly selfish of her, Kyria wondered guiltily,to feel one with the locals and wish that it would always be like this?

Although now having reached the grand old age of twenty, Kyria was still unused to the massive crowds that winter brought to St. Valentine. She still much preferred the solitude of summer, with its fairly empty roads and how the air was mostly quiet save for the occasional chirping of birds. It reminded her of life back home, and although one could never actually be alone in the palace, the servants and guards there were so good at making themselves unobtrusive that she had never felt her privacy invaded.

Oh, how she missed Ramil. If there was anything that the almost two years she spent in St. Valentine had taught her, then it was that there truly was no place like home. And Ramilwashome. It might not be her country of blood, but it was the kingdom of her heart, and she missed it, badly. No matter how beautiful St. Valentine was, it could never compare to what Ramil meant to her, and sometimes she wondered—-

“Ms. Markides?”

Hearing her name called out by the interviewer had Kyria quickly standing up, all thoughts of her old life shelved for the meantime.

“It’s your turn.” The other woman flashed her a smile. “Good luck.”