Page 78 of Immortal Longings
Anton tries to close the distance instead of answering the question; Calla swerves back, her lip twitching in amusement.
“Anton.”
Ugh.“You’ve made your point,” he replies. That doesn’t mean he has to like it.
The corners of Calla’s red lips curve up properly, rewarding him with a full smile. Despite Calla’s conviction, the sinking feeling in Anton’s gut only grows stronger, each worry weighed down by waves of memory. He has always been afraid of August Avia holding power over Talin. Prince August sees the kingdom as made up of playthings, people to move around and make choices forwithout first asking what they need. Prince August will step on his friends if he needs a rung up and squeeze his closest loved ones for use until there is nothing more they can offer. It would be within his very nature to stab Calla in the back if the occasion calls for it, because August Avia has worked tirelessly to become August Shenzhi, to become the heir to these seething cities, and no one good can want power that badly.
“What’s going to happen when this succeeds?” Anton asks after a moment. “Will you take the throne?”
Calla casts him an incredulous look. “Of course not. The throne is August’s.”
“I hoped you wouldn’t say that.” He shakes his head. “Why give it to him so easily? The Palace of Union has joined San-Er into one now. You’re as much the heir as he is.”
The line of questioning seems to surprise Calla. She raises her shoulders, keeping her neck warm in the collar of her coat, her brow furrowed while she chews over an answer. Then:
“Because I’m not doing this to rule,” she says quietly. “I just want to stop King Kasa.”
“Stop him?”
Calla gestures over the rooftop, at the streets below them, into the twin cities and beyond. “From all this. Only caring about himself and his throne. Expanding ever outward so that his kingdom can claim more land to take taxes on but refuse to feed. What good is a ruler without a sense of responsibility? I’m wiping him away.”
“You don’t think August would be the same?” Anton asks.
“He wouldn’t,” Calla retorts confidently. She tugs at the fraying shoelace on her boot. “I know him.”
As does Anton. In fact, he might argue that he knows Prince August even better than Calla does. Only it’s not worth arguing about this, because if Callawon’t seize the crown, then short of August taking over upon Kasa’s death, there is no other contender except mass anarchy.
“This is Kasa’s rot,” Calla continues steadily. “And when he’s gone, no child will go hungry again.”
Anton examines her. She must know that this is unrealistic. Calla Tuoleimi is too clever to be fooled into such elementary thinking, too sensible to believe that a kingdom could change so wholly by merely swapping one mortal man for another.
Though perhaps… perhaps she is simply weary enough to be fooled. She looks at the cities with such duty, the weight of the kingdom hefted upon her shoulders by her own appointment. Allowing August’s heroics to swoop in means reprieve from the never-ending, immeasurable task of keeping watch; a savior to replace a tyrant, justice restored so long as one cruel king bears the burden of his whole lineage’s wrongs.
“Do you want to stop Kasa from letting another child go hungry again?” Anton broaches slowly. “Or do you want to punish him for lettingyougo hungry?”
A spark of ire flashes in Calla’s eyes. Then, that glint fades just as fast as it came, because Calla must know that it isn’t an unreasonable accusation, and Anton does not ask to be scornful.
“Can’t it be both?” Calla replies. She tucks her loose shoelace deep into her boot, tidying the knot before it can trip her up. “The kingdom is starving. My purpose is to save Talin.” Her lips thin. “But the king of San and the king of Er also let me grow up in misery, forced my village into their kingdom without seeing us as people. For that, they must answer with their lives. One down, another to go.”
The rooftop door bangs shut. A child cries from below. And inside Anton’s body, his heart takes on a clamor, fearing for the unflinching drive that has hardened Calla Tuoleimi’s voice.
“Okay,” Calla says suddenly, breaking the gravity of their conversation.Her tone returns to normal, humor creeping back into her manner. “I need to go find August.” She starts to rise onto her feet. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m—”
Anton snags her by the wrist, stopping her before she can stand. Though it’s a basic impulse that launches him into action, if he searches deeper, he knows it is fear: the very real possibility that she could wander away from him and he might never see her again.
“Not yet,” he breathes. “Wait until the day begins proper, at least. Stay with me.”
Calla complies. He wonders if he is the first to beg before her like this—not for a lack of people who want to, but because Princess Calla Tuoleimi will not let them get close enough to try. Slowly she eases back onto the ledge with her legs inside the rooftop this time, set on the solid, cluttered ground.
“Until the day begins proper, and only until then,” she warns. Her eyes crinkle. She has been with him since the previous night, he has not seen her adjust her cosmetics, yet the dark liner on her eyes remains intact, pulling the corners until they look feline. “How do you suggest I make use of such time milling around?”
By all counts, the day proper has already begun. The sounds, the calls, the cries—everything that makes up San-Er, rising to a fever pitch by the minute. But still, Anton closes his eyes and elects to block them out, entreating Calla to ignore them too.
“Kiss me,” he says. “Kiss me and make every dreadful second here worth it.”
Calla only needs to be asked once. She presses her lips to his, and the rest of San-Er drowns out, fades to nothing, shrunken into oblivion by sheer will. All Anton can hope is that this is enough—that this time around, outsmarting the cities with a plan pinned on love will finally succeed.
CHAPTER25
