And in such bliss does devastation grow.

The worms do not take heed of caste and rank when they feast on our ashes," the Raja said. "Your subjects will not remember you. They will not remember the shade of your eyes, the colors you favored, or the beauty of your wives. They will only remember your impression upon their hearts and whether you filled them with glee or grief. That is your immortality.

I love you," he murmured into my hair. "You are my night and stars, the fate I would fix myself to in any life.

I wanted a love thick with time, as inscrutable as if a lathe had carved it from night and as familiar as the marrow in my bones. I wanted the impossible, which made it that much easier to push out of my mind.

I know your soul. Everything else is just an ornament.

Beauty, coveted though it was, could not outlive you. Only actions would.