Vessel

Chapter Thirty-Two Korbyn

Korbyn dragged Liyana’s body away from the shore. She lay peacefully, as if sleeping in the greenery. Returning to the lake, he pulled the emperor by his ankles out of the water. Drops splashed onto Korbyn’s hands, but as a god, he didn’t need to fear the water. Dragging the body over the pebbles, Korbyn laid the emperor next to Liyana. He touched the emperor’s neck.

There was no pulse.

Liyana opened her eyes. “She’s gone,” Bayla said with Liyana’s voice.

“She’ll return,” Korbyn said. “She’s resourceful.”

“She is in the Dreaming,” Bayla said gently.

“She will return with him, and she will not forgive me if he’s dead.” Korbyn judged that he had not been soulless too long. His skin was still warm.

Bayla knelt beside him. She wrapped her arms—Liyana’s arms—around him. “He is already gone. It is over.”

Korbyn shook his head.

“Even if he were to return, his body . . .” She trailed off. “No, Korbyn. Korbyn, look at me. We are together now. You cannot do this.”

“We will be together in the Dreaming,” Korbyn said. “We will be together forever.” He closed his eyes. He had never tried this particular trick before. In theory it was sound. The emperor’s body wasn’t dying from any bodily harm, merely lack of a soul.

He gathered the magic that was his own soul, and he poured it into the emperor’s body.

Korbyn took a breath and opened his eyes. His chest felt different. He was lying in the grasses. Water had dampened his face and his clothes. He opened his eyes and saw his former body in Liyana’s—Bayla’s—arms.

She was crying. “How could you do this to me?”

“She will return,” Korbyn said. His voice sounded different, deeper. “I believe in her.”

“You love her,” Bayla said.

He thought about that. He remembered how he’d met her in the oasis. She’d been throwing sand and screaming at the desert. He remembered how she’d taught him to dance. He remembered guiding her through magic lessons. He remembered how he’d felt when she woke as herself, not as Bayla. “I think I do.”

“You don’t love me.”

“I know I do,” he said.

Bayla cradled his former body. “Your body will die in minutes if you do not return to it. And say that you are correct and your Liyana returns with her emperor’s soul. . . . How will he inhabit that body if you are in it? He is not trained in magic. He will not be able to coexist with you. Your sacrifice will be for nothing.”

“That body is not the sacrifice,” Korbyn said gently.

Bayla stared at him, and he saw the realization spread over her face.

“Our time here is stolen and will come again. These people . . . they deserve to finish their natural lives. They deserve it more than we do. This is their world. These are their lives. We exist for them and because of them.” He attempted a smile and tried to make his voice light. “Besides, you have never seen Liyana when she is angry. She would not like to go through the trouble of saving her emperor only to have him die again here.”

“You truly trust her,” Bayla said.

Korbyn watched the lake. “Yes, I do.” Beside him, in his lover’s arms, his body died.