17. The Desperate Heart
17
The Desperate Heart
“ R owan!” Astoria cried, running through the hallways. “Rowan!”
A frantic-looking male servant crossed her path. “Your Majesty! What is wrong? What is the matter?”
“Where is Rowan?” she demanded.
“I haven’t seen him this—”
“Astoria?”
Rowan stood at the end of the hallway. When she turned to him, something like panic crossed his face, and he sprinted towards her. “What is it?”
“Poison!” Her voice shook. “He is being poisoned!”
The servant gasped at the top of his lungs. He took off immediately, probably to spread the news.
“What?” Rowan demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. “But the Mage healer—”
“She told me she is certain Cyrus is being poisoned, that whoever was doing it refrained from adding poison to yesterday’s medicine when we requested it—that the person learned about her arrival and realized it was going to be tested. She gave me the herbs to try again today, and I… I mixed it and the medicine turned black…”
Rowan looked thunderstruck. For a long moment, he could only blink. Then, a stormy look entered his eyes. “Who delivered the cup this morning?”
“Clara, of course. She’s been the one— oh, no …” Her eyes widened as something flickered in his. She shook her head violently. “You’re not saying… No, no, no!”
Rowan didn’t answer her. “Guards!” he barked over his shoulder. Two men appeared at the end of the hallway. “Tell the captain he’s under strict orders to keep the palace under lockdown. No one leaves or enters until I give permission. The Emperor’s life is in danger.”
The men went very still in shock before they snapped out of it and bolted away.
“Tell me you’re not seriously thinking the woman who took Cyrus under her wing like a mother is the one poisoning him!” Astoria admonished him sharply. “That is utterly ridiculous. Not even my father would do that to me.”
“Look, I’m not saying it is her. I don’t know who would even want to do such a thing—but it sure is someone from the inside.” He dropped his hands from her. “Right now, we have the right to suspect anyone, but we will be careful in accusing them without proof.”
Astoria looked around to make sure the place was safe for their conversation. “It’s probably one of the staff. But I don’t understand why . For heaven’s sake, Cyrus made these people’s lives better!”
“Not everyone has the same opinion, Astoria.” Rowan raised an eyebrow pointedly.
She froze. “The rebels?” A bell rang in her head. The rebels. The notes.
Were they connected?
A terrible feeling formed inside her. Was the one poisoning Cyrus and sending her notes the same person? Cyrus had told her that magical notes couldn’t be sent and received within the palace walls other than through him. That meant one of the Mages in the palace was a rebel who knew about the prophecy. And they were poisoning Cyrus to help her fulfill it.
She felt sick.
“Listen, I want you to go back to Cyrus and lock the door. Don’t let anyone—not even Clara—in. If I come, I will announce myself; otherwise, don’t open the door,” Rowan said in a grave voice.
“Yes, but first, I have to send word to the Mage healer about the poison—she’s preparing the cure. Once she arrives with it, I will join you for the interrogations.” Astoria gave his arm a gentle squeeze and ran back to her chambers.
She wrote down a quick note and sent it to the healer with the guard who had escorted her yesterday. His name she didn’t know, but Cyrus would. The thought clenched her heart, but she set aside the feeling and watched as the carriage rode through the castle walls to bring the healer.
She returned to Cyrus’ room, locked the door as Rowan had instructed, and fell to his side on the bed. Skylar and Spyrah were already on the other side, Spyrah staring at him with tearful eyes and Skylar with a comforting paw on her.
Astoria laid her head gently on her husband’s chest and stared at his handsome face. Her fingers stroked his cheekbones. “Cyrus,” she whispered. “Cyrus, if you can hear me, please hold on. Please keep fighting. Don’t—don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.”
Tears leaked from the corner of her eye.
“Please, don’t leave me…” she repeated. “Is it funny that I would give anything at the moment to see you flash that infuriating smirk at me and tease me mercilessly?” She choked on a sad laugh. “I guess I’m that desperate.”
The longer she stared at his face, the more her anger burned towards the culprit poisoning her husband. She wanted nothing more than to strangle that person, whoever he or she was. This was their fault. Her husband was in this condition because of them. Poison was running through his veins, slowly draining the life out of him. How long until it claimed his life? How long did he have? Would it be too late to give him the cure? Would the cure work?
Once the thoughts began to flood in, Astoria thought her head might burst. She sat up straight and wiped her tears away.
This had never worked before, but she was determined to try it again. For Cyrus.
She lifted her hands over him and closed her eyes. Something she had never felt before, a feeling—a loud feeling—buzzed under her skin like a great force fighting to be released. Astoria’s heart raced at this strange discovery. She pushed harder, feeling her body heat up, but the power was too restrained.
What was that?
Suddenly, Cyrus stirred.
Astoria opened her eyes and saw her golden threads encircling his body. Cyrus’ eyelids fluttered. Then, they opened. His midnight eyes met hers, and he smiled adoringly like she was the moon itself.
Astoria stared at him in astonishment.
“Astra…”
It had been days since she heard his voice. When Clara told her that he asked for her yesterday, she had been disappointed she wasn’t with him.
“I’m here…” she whispered, a tear slipping from her eye.
“Why are you crying, my love?”
Astoria opened and closed her mouth, struggling for an answer. Was she dreaming?
“No, you’re not,” he said weakly. Did she say that aloud? “It’s your healing magic. It’s giving me strength to gain consciousness and talk.”
Her jaw dropped. “But I don’t—”
“You do, because you have the power of a Half-blood. But to produce it, unlike your other powers, this one is advanced and it needs a powerful push. Emotion. Your emotions pushed the power into production. What are you feeling now, Little Dragon?”
“Ecstasy?” More tears spilled, and a watery grin broke across her face. “But it was desperation that drove me, I think. If I had known this before—does this mean I can heal you?”
“No, sweetheart.” She frowned at his answer. “It would take more than your healing magic to drain the poison out of my body.”
She gaped at him. “How do you know—”
Cyrus looked at Spyrah. “She’s been keeping me updated about everything, including how a certain young woman declared she would tear the world apart to find the culprit poisoning me.” He turned his adoring gaze to Astoria.
But Spyrah didn’t go with her when—
— That would be me, Skylar interrupted her thoughts. Spyrah and I can project our minds to each other. It’s a little tricky, but we figured it out. She wanted to keep Cyrus as distracted from his weariness as possible. I agreed to help, Skylar finished with a roll of his tiny, furry shoulders.
Astoria looked at him, impressed. And you didn’t bother to tell me?
I was planning to tell you later. You were busy protecting him, and we were busy entertaining him.
She turned her eyes back to her husband and found him watching her with a smile. How could he smile at all after learning he was being poisoned?
“What are you smiling about?”
His smile, though weak, widened. “You.”
Astoria stared at him, her heart fluttering. Then, a smile rose on her lips as well.
“So all I need is a strong emotion to produce the healing magic, and you would be able to gain some strength to stay awake and talk with me?”
“The healing magic is very advanced, darling. It will wear you out, unlike the other ones. You won’t be able to hold it for long, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself—not for me, not for anyone. I’m fighting for you, trust me; even in my unconsciousness, I’m holding onto the hope of a bright future with you where we will watch a thousand sunrises and sunsets together.” He smiled. “You said you wanted to know me more. I’m fighting with everything in me to give you that, even if it’s the last thing I do. Now, come here and let me hold you for a moment.”
Astoria lowered herself next to him, unable to form a response, and slid under his arm as he lifted it for her. His arms came around her, and she snuggled up to him, closing her eyes. Her magic still encircled him.
“Let it go, love,” he murmured.
She gave a subtle shake of her head. “No.”
He sighed. “It will wear you out.”
“Then let it,” she said stubbornly. However long she could hold the magic and help him stay conscious, she would. The feel of his arms around her and the warmth radiating from him that was no longer the fever consumed her soul. A strange feeling of belonging touched her.
“Ever the stubborn little dragon.”
She smiled against his shirt. “Just hold me as long as you can.”
“As you wish, my darling.”
“And dream of me when you slip back to sleep.”
“Always.”
Her heart did a double backflip at his answer. She managed to hold the magic for ten minutes straight before she began to grow weak. Cyrus must’ve sensed the shift in her power, so he whispered, “Let it go, love.”
This time, she did as he said. Exhaustion took over her, and her eyelids drooped. She fell asleep in his arms until Skylar woke her up and said someone was knocking on the door.
Astoria pushed herself up on her elbows and glanced at Cyrus’ peaceful, sleeping face.
“Astoria, it’s me,” Rowan’s voice called out from the other side of the door.
Astoria flicked her wrist and unlocked the door. A grim-looking Rowan and an ashen-faced guard entered. The one she had sent for the healer. Astoria climbed off the bed. Something was wrong.
“What is it?” she demanded in a shaken voice.
Rowan nodded at the guard, who stepped forward and bowed to her. “Your Majesty,” he began, his voice shaking worse than hers. “I went to the healer’s workshop and knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer. I asked in the bakery opposite to know if she was inside and they said she hadn’t left since yesterday. I waited over half an hour before I broke in and—” The man took a deep breath to steady his next words. “—I found her body on the floor.”
Astoria grabbed the bedpost to steady herself. “What do you mean you found her body ?” she whispered.
“Her throat was slit, Your Majesty.”
Astoria shifted her horrified, wide eyes to Rowan’s concerned ones that were already on her. This couldn’t be happening. Not her only hope.
“Go and wait outside,” Rowan instructed the guard. Once the door closed behind him, Rowan turned to Astoria. “Don’t let this get you down, Astoria. We will find another way. I give you my word, we will save him.”
But Astoria sank onto the bed, the feeling leaving her legs. “So it is the rebels, isn’t it?”
“We will catch them, alright?” Rowan grabbed a chair and sat in front of her. “At least now we know what they are trying to accomplish.”
“I still don’t understand why they would—” She broke off and glanced at Cyrus over her shoulder. She wanted to talk to him again, and she was desperate enough to push her healing power into action. “I want to be alone, Rowan. This is all too overwhelming,” she said without taking her eyes off her husband.
She heard Rowan rising from the chair. “Sure. Just send for me if you need anything. It’s chaos down there.”
She looked at him. “That servant spread the news, didn’t he?”
“Yes, and when I told them the culprit is someone from the inside, it got worse. They went wild, each protesting that they wouldn’t do such a thing, that they love Cyrus too much to even wish him ill.” Rowan lifted his eyes to the ceiling and winced before he said the next words. “Ironically, they are still suspecting you , demanding that you should be kept away from him.”
Astoria’s temper flared. “Well, you can tell them they’d have to burn down the palace to separate me from my husband. It’s too late for that now.”
Rowan raised his palms. “I told them you are in love with him. But they wouldn’t believe me.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She calmed down. Was she in love with him? Astoria looked at Cyrus, and she realized, maybe she was. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but it might’ve developed along with her heart softening towards him. Now she knew where all that protectiveness and desperation came from.
“No one’s leaving the palace, not until the culprit is caught. Don’t worry about it, Astoria. Just stay with him. I will handle this, alright?”
She nodded and turned back to Rowan. “Thank you, Rowan. Please be careful. I want my friend when all this is over.”
Rowan grinned for what seemed like the first time since Cyrus fell sick. He touched her shoulder reassuringly. “Thank you, Astoria. I assure you, I can’t be removed easily.” He dropped his hand and turned to walk to the door. “Can I bring you the records of the physicians? You can help me find someone who can help him.”
“Yes, please.” They needed to get someone like the Mage healer—Astoria felt terrible for not even knowing her name—as soon as possible. But right now, she wanted to talk with Cyrus.
When Rowan closed the door behind him and she flicked her wrist to lock it, she climbed back to Cyrus’ side and held her hands over him. Desperation overtook her, and her golden threads wrapped around his body. A moment later, Cyrus sighed. His eyes opened.
“Astra…” he called her with a sigh.
“Did Spyrah tell you?” she asked urgently, heart pounding, sparing a glance at Spyrah—and Skylar, who was uncharacteristically silent.
He nodded. He didn’t seem to have the strength like last time. She assumed it was because she was weak.
“What are we going to do?” Her chin trembled, but she clenched her jaw and tried to stay strong for him. “The healer told me that only the herbs from Windlewade could—” she stopped short with a gasp. “Cyrus! Your father! He can help us!”
Cyrus closed his eyes, and there was a slight wince in his voice as he said, “Joaquin has an obsession with herbs. He has an herb garden.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Her hope sprouted wings.
“But we haven’t talked for years. He’s mad at me for not returning to Windlewade and hasn’t responded to my letters since I told him I wasn’t coming back. He hates me.”
Astoria refused to let his words deter her newfound hope. “Between the two of us, if anyone knows anything about sibling hatred, that’s me. And I say, from what you’ve told me about your brother, he couldn’t possibly hate you.”
Cyrus arched an eyebrow at her words weakly.
“Oh, right. I haven’t told you about my history with Silas,” she said in realization. “But never mind. Tell me how I can contact your brother or send him a note. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this before, Cyrus!”
He sighed. “Because I knew he wouldn’t help me.”
“You wouldn’t know that until you tried.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Now, tell me what to do. Even if your brother won’t help, your father will. Unlike mine, yours loves you.”
His eyes softened just before they darkened. “I will make your father pay for what he did to you.”
“First, you need to get healed, and for that, tell me how I can contact your father,” she pressed him. “Please, don’t let your past hold you back from seeking your brother’s help. If not for yourself, do it for me.”
He stared at her for a moment, his gaze softening again. “As you wish, my darling. Anything for you.” He pointed his chin to his left hand. “See the golden ring with the orange stone on my middle finger? Take it and put it on yours.”
Astoria didn’t hesitate to oblige. “And now?”
“Write a note to my brother. It’s better if you ask him directly than through Father. Then hold the letter in your hand and say, Joaquin Arugulas Caelian, three times in your mind. This is important because you don’t know the person you are sending the letter to. The rest is just like how we send notes via magic. Now, drop your healing threads from me. You need your strength.”
“Wait—but how will he get the antidote to us?”
“Good question. Tell him to open the portal right outside our walls since he couldn’t open it inside because of the shield. He probably knows the name of our palace, but you may include it just in case. Then inform Thornton that we are expecting my brother—maybe a bodyguard, too—and escort them to our chambers.”
“ Joaquin Arugulas Caelian. Got it.” Astoria nodded and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “I won’t let you down,” she promised, pulling away.
He smiled, eyes shining like stars. “I don’t doubt it.”
Astoria withdrew her powers and watched as the strength left him and he slowly slipped back into unconsciousness. But this time, he had the ghost of a smile on his face.
Astoria climbed down from the bed and approached the writing desk. Thankfully, the writing essentials were already there. She scribbled a letter to her brother-in-law as per Cyrus’ instructions, folded it in fourths after reading it, and slipped it into an envelope. She sealed it with a plain seal, not wanting to use Cyrus’ seal in case he didn’t bother opening it. A magical letter with a plain seal would probably pique his interest.
Astoria hoped.
She held the letter in her hands and closed her eyes, saying, Joaquin Arugulas Caelian, three times in her mind as she concentrated. The letter vanished in the next moment. She pulled out another parchment, wrote a note to the captain of the guard, and sent it to him via magic. To confirm he found her note, Astoria rang for Emily and asked her to inform him.
She returned to Cyrus’ side and waited, praying to the Creator—something she had started since she began to worry for Cyrus—that Joaquin would arrive soon.
Her thoughts drifted to the healer, and her heartstrings tightened. The woman had been murdered because she tried to save Cyrus’ life. She would be served justice, and Astoria would personally see to taking care of her family.
Astoria remembered Rowan’s words from earlier, that he suspected Clara. She refused to even think of it. Clara was a great soul and had been nothing but kind and welcoming towards her since day one, even when Astoria had been hostile to the man Clara loved as a son.
Clara was also the one who told Astoria what a great, golden man Cyrus was. It didn’t make any sense that Clara would betray Cyrus.
It had to be someone from the inside. But, who? Would they find out before it was too late? What would happen to the culprit then?
One look at Cyrus’ face and Astoria knew she would make the person pay greatly. She didn’t know how, but she would make an example of him or her for the entire continent—no one would ever mess with her and her husband again.
There was a commotion outside the door. Astoria stood and placed herself in front of Cyrus’ bed. That had better be his brother.
“I told you—”
“You will not stop me from seeing my brother, whoever you are!” bellowed an authoritative voice.
“You are in no position to command me, Cyrus’ brother or not. I am his right hand and I run this empire in his stead— I cannot believe this !” A knock sounded at the door and Rowan called out, “Astoria, it’s me!”
Astoria rolled her eyes with a smile. Rowan was a little annoying when he was overprotective, just like Emmett, but she appreciated it greatly. She flicked her wrist, and the door unlocked.
A tall man in black and sea-green royal attire burst inside, pushing past Rowan, whose annoyance only peaked.
He was handsome, slightly older than Cyrus, but they bore no resemblance as brothers. When his searching, light eyes fell on Astoria, he relaxed slightly and stomped towards her less aggressively.
“Where is my brother?”
No pleasantries or decorum. Astoria liked that.
She stepped aside without a word. The moment his eyes fell on Cyrus, Joaquin’s face crumpled and he hurried over to the bed.
“Cyrus?” He cupped Cyrus’ face and stared at his little brother with wide eyes. There was no trace of hatred in them.
“He’s unconscious, Your Highness,” Astoria told him quietly from behind. “But I can use my healing powers to help him gain consciousness. Did you bring the antidote?”
“Wait, what’s going on?” Rowan asked from behind, baffled.
“I wrote to Prince Joaquin via magic and he has the antidote to heal Cyrus.” Astoria looked at him as he stepped beside her. “I didn’t have time to tell you—you were busy with the interrogations.”
Rowan closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. “You should have,” he breathed out. “I was beside myself when I heard—”
“We must give him the antidote now,” Prince Joaquin interrupted.
“I will wake him—”
“Allow me, Empress,” said a new, deep voice from behind.
Astoria turned to see an older man standing behind them, just a few feet away. The bodyguard Cyrus assumed would accompany his brother, she thought. But his attire was more regal than that of a guard’s. Maybe Windlewade had a different fashion from the human realm.
Astoria nodded her permission, and the older man—slightly younger than her father—stepped forward. “General Sean, Your Majesty,” he introduced himself, and his grey eyes moved to Cyrus. He sighed softly and went around the bed to stand at its foot, stretching his arms in front of him.
General Sean. Why did that name strike a chord?
Red magic burst from the man’s fingertips and encircled Cyrus’ body. His eyes fluttered open immediately, and he blinked at his brother, first in disbelief and then solemnly.
“Joaquin.”
Joaquin smiled solemnly. “Big brother to the rescue, huh?”
“I’m afraid so,” Cyrus rasped with a soft chuckle. He looked much more awake than he had when Astoria used her healing on him. Pureblood magic must have a better effect. Cyrus glanced to his left and right. “Where is my—” He cut short as his eyes found Astoria. He sighed with a smile.
“I’m here.” Astoria stepped closer to the bed.
“Once I heal you, I’m going to kill you myself.” Joaquin fished out a small vial from his pocket. “I am serious, Cyrus,” he said as Cyrus chuckled again.
“And then you will have to answer to my beloved wife, and I tell you, Brother, you wouldn’t want that.”
Astoria grinned before she could stop it. In her peripheral view, she saw General Sean looking at her.
Joaquin only sighed. He held up the antidote. “This is the fastest poison drainer we have. Once you drink it, you will go back to a deep sleep, and when you wake up, you will be as good as new.”
Astoria almost couldn’t believe it. She pinched herself lightly on the arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Cyrus was going to be healed.
“And when will I wake up?” Cyrus raised an eyebrow at his brother.
“Depends on the amount of poison you’ve been gulping down lately. Man, I swear it. First, I will kill whoever poisoned you, and then—”
“And then you will kill me. Fine. Give me the antidote.” Cyrus tried to sit up. Astoria moved to help him, but Joaquin was faster.
“General Sean,” Cyrus acknowledged the man at the foot of the bed. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I admit my magic is quite distracting.” The man winked, just before his face softened. “It’s good to see you again, Cyrus—or should I call you Your Imperial Majesty now?”
Astoria finally realized who this man was. He was Cyrus’ father’s friend, the one sent to look for Cyrus’s mother in the human realm, and who fell in love with a non-mage woman.
“Whatever you wish.”
“I think I will stick to Cyrus, then,” the man muttered.
Joaquin passed the vial to Cyrus, but his hands were too unsteady to hold it. Astoria took it from him, uncapped the vial, and brought it to his mouth. Their eyes met, and Cyrus smiled.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Don’t,” she admonished him gently. “I did this out of selfish reasons, I assure you.” But her lips twitched.
He drank the antidote, and she dabbed his mouth with a towel. When she withdrew, he reached for her hand and held onto it.
Her heart flipped. “Dream of me,” she whispered, kissing his forehead.
His eyelids began to droop, and Joaquin helped him lie back down. Before his eyes closed, he squeezed her hand and whispered back, “Always.”