48. Chapter 48
Chapter forty-eight
Cyrus lay awake in the dark.
She’d been with child.
The guilt tore him from the inside out—she’d thought she couldn’t come to him. She’d thought she had to get rid of it and shoulder that burden alone.
A child would give her what she needed to bring her family back. Yet he didn’t think for a moment that she’d done it on purpose. Her desperation haunted him.
And she’d kept apologizing.
Like he would be angry with her.
He was angry.
But only at himself.
He was angry that she couldn’t tell him, that she couldn’t trust him, that she couldn’t depend on him when she’d needed him most.
And it was all his fault.
Cyrus pulled her closer.
It was true he hadn’t wanted a child, and all the reasons he’d given were true—he couldn’t be distracted from his duty, and he simply didn’t want one.
But more, he didn’t want a child if he couldn’t give it his everything.
If he couldn’t love it wholly, if he couldn’t raise it, if he couldn’t be there for it.
And he hadn’t expected to live to do any of that.
He’d expected his vengeance against the Shadow King would come at a cost—his life—and he’d been at peace with this. He’d accepted what fate might demand of him. So, he’d never allowed himself to want or to dream.
But here, now, with Essandra in his arms, for the first time, he let himself dream. He could imagine a future with her. For the first time, he wanted to live. And now that he knew he’d prevail…
Cyrus pulled her even closer, and she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stared back at him.
“How do you feel?” he asked. He brushed the side of her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
Her eyelids fell in a slow blink. “It’s gone,” she whispered.
Cyrus knew. He pushed her hair from her brow.
“Have you slept?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. It’s all right, though. It’s nice to just lie here with you. And think.”
“What were you thinking about?”
He studied her face. Her brow, her nose, her lips. “How wonderful it would be to have a life with you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I would be a good husband. And a good father.”
Her eyes welled, and he kissed the tears as they fell.
“I don’t know if that’s what you want,” he told her, “but if it is, then I want that too. I want it with you. We’ll have the most beautiful wedding this kingdom has ever seen.”
She nodded. “I want that with you,” she whispered. “But I don’t want a wedding. I just want to be your wife.”
“It’s done, then.” He kissed her. “Wife.” He kissed her again.
She clung to him. “I want to leave all this behind,” she said. “Let us leave it all. Just you and me.”
“When all this is over,” he promised, “and whether or not I am king, you will be my queen. And I will love you. I will love you all the days of my life.”
She cupped her hand against the nape of his neck and pulled him even closer. “Love me now,” she pleaded. “Let it be over now.”
“Soon, my love. Soon.”
Cyrus pulled her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. He held her tight as she cried herself back to sleep.
Cyrus watched the ship slowly sail from the harbor. Miriel waved from the back deck. It would only take her two days to reach Japheth, giving Cyrus two days to think on if he’d made the right decision.
He was starting to doubt.
It wasn’t that he was worried about Gregor discovering his ruse.
With Essandra’s guidance over the past year, Miriel had become a master of her craft.
Cyrus had sent her with his blood to give her even more power, but she didn’t need it.
She could project an illusion of an army greater than the world had ever seen, completely on her own.
Still, a heaviness weighted his chest.
Essandra had asked him to be done. She’d asked him to be done with it all.
Never had that been something he’d even thought of entertaining before. When Kord had pressed him to stop, even when Norah had pleaded with him, he’d felt such a visceral rejection to the notion.
But now that Essandra had asked him…
Now that she’d asked to be his future…
He wanted to give that to her.
“Are you all right?” Everan’s question snapped his attention.
“Of course,” Cyrus said quickly. He glanced out across the water to find Miriel’s ship gone.
They turned back toward the palace, and his mind shifted back to Essandra.
When this is all over , he’d told her. But when would it be over?
After he killed the Shadow King, he still needed to take down the assassins’ guild.
He needed to win back Pryam for Miriel. He needed to bring down Etreus, the Union, and all those who supported the slave trade. That was what he’d promised.
If he gave everything up for Essandra, not only would he be giving up the Shadow King, but he’d be giving up everything he’d committed to, everything he’d promised.
He could still call Miriel back before she reached Japheth.
If he did, she would know it would all be over, that he wouldn’t win Pryam back for her. She would never forgive him, but she’d be safe in Rael. She could join Essandra’s coven, if that was what she wanted.
The thought of letting her down turned his stomach.
His army was ready. When he pulled his legions from Japheth and replaced them with Miriel’s ruse, he’d be a hundred and seventy-five thousand strong. The largest army in the world.
But he could hold them.
He could stop.
He could stop for Essandra. His wife. His queen. His future.
He would stop.
They reached the palace, and Cyrus strode through the heavy doors and down the main hall. Everan said something else to him, but he didn’t catch it as his mind turned. He would do it. He would do it for her. He would recall his army home—
A sudden searing pain ripped through his mind, nearly dropping him to the floor, but Everan caught hold of him.
“Cyrus!”
Cyrus gripped his head. Burning talons clawed the inside of his skull—ripping, mauling, lighting flames of agony behind his eyes.
It took him a moment to understand, a moment to push through the pain to realize…
Something was tearing at the tether—the tether with Norah.
Not something.
Someone.
They were trying to break the bond. She was trying to break it.
“Cyrus!” Everan called to him. “What’s happening?”
But he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t speak. The pain was crippling—stabbing, piercing, gnashing at his hold on her.
Anger surged through him. Who dared to think they could break the tether that he himself had created?
And did she think it would be that easy?
Cyrus fought back with a burst of power through the bond. If another mind was joined with hers, he would crush it.
He’d crack it open and disintegrate it.
He chased the pain to the source, pushing through with a counterattack, but just as he nearly wrapped his own mental talons around the intruder, they withdrew.
The pain abated, and he fell forward onto his hands and knees, panting.
“Cyrus!” Everan shouted again.
It took a moment for him to finally be able to speak.
“It’s Norah,” he said through labored breaths. “She’s trying to break the tether.”
“Can she do that?”
“She’s found someone who thinks they can.” And whoever or whatever was helping her was powerful. Very powerful.
He didn’t think she could break the tether, but if she did, he’d lose his advantage.
He couldn’t take that risk.
He needed to move now .
The current plan was for Miriel to hold the illusion of an army in Japheth, distracting Aleon, while Cyrus’s real army sailed to launch a surprise attack against the Shadowlands from the west. With the rocky coast of the Shadowlands giving no grace for ships to land, sailing up the inlet and cutting through the northeastern corner of Osan was the only way to do this.
Cyrus had planned for the army to stop in Rael on the way from Japheth, to gather supplies, but they didn’t have time for that now.
“Prepare a vessel,” he told Everan. “When our ships start arriving, they won’t be stopping. I’ll lead them straight through to Osan.”
He was going.
He was going to kill the Shadow King.