Blood King, Part II (Crowns #5)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Cyrus had said he wouldn’t use assassins.

Now he was sending one to kill his brother. And the Shadow Queen.

It didn’t feel right—not to go himself, not to do it with his own hands.

It felt cowardly. Worse, it felt like a betrayal to his past self, a denial of the vengeance he was owed.

But his closest friends Kord and Everan had made points he couldn’t ignore.

Cyrus was king. It wasn’t practical for him to go.

And more—Essandra had asked him to stay.

The assassin stood with a smirk on his face.

“This task will likely see you all dead,” Cyrus told him. Let him smirk at that. Bastard.

They’d all gathered in Essandra’s workroom as she prepared a mixture for the bonding spell. This was a different kind of bond than the normal blood bond. It would allow Cyrus to see through the assassins’ eyes, hear through them, speak through them.

“We accept the risk.” Orion cocked his head. “It’s a mission against the Shadow King. Who do you think sold us to the Jackals?”

Cyrus knew. Essandra had told him. But he needed to be very clear—“This isn’t a mission to kill the king,” he said. “It’s a mission to kill his queen.”

“Whose death will crumble his alliance and kingdom,” Orion added.

Cyrus didn’t lift his icy stare. “It’s also a mission to kill my brother.”

Orion shrugged. “A gift. Because my lady asked.” He glanced at Essandra, who stood beside Everan and Kord, and flashed her a smooth smile.

She pursed her lips, but Cyrus caught the hint of a smile in return.

The heat of jealousy rippled under his skin. This man was a breath away from a sword through his throat.

“You won’t have control of their bodies,” Essandra told Cyrus as she finished her mixture, “but you can talk to one another, and you’ll be able to see, hear, and—if they allow it—speak through them.”

Cyrus shot a daggered gaze at Orion.

“We’ll allow it,” Orion said begrudgingly.

“I don’t know how long it will hold,” she told them. To Orion, she said, “It’s best if you also take a few vials of blood in case the bond breaks, then you can still contact us through the normal bond.”

Orion snorted. “Just what I wanted—to keep carrying around a vial with the blood of another man.”

“I could give you some of your own blood to carry around,” Cyrus said.

The assassin’s smirk faded, and he quieted.

“Get sketches if you can,” Everan said. “Of the capital and of the castle, like you did in Serra.” He rocked off the wall he’d been leaning against with his arms crossed.

The sketches Orion had drawn while scouting the slaving kingdom of Serra were extremely well done, as much as Cyrus loathed to admit it, and they’d been very useful in their war planning. Sketches of the Shadow capital and castle would be invaluable.

Orion shot Everan a caustic gaze. “Anything else you’d like? Should I do some market shopping, maybe?”

Everan ignored the jab.

They made short work of the remaining logistics.

Orion and his men would sail across the Aged Sea and up the inlet on Japheth’s west side, which would put them just above the labyrinth of the Canyonlands.

Then, with the help of Cyrus and his sight through the birds, they’d weave their way through into the Shadowlands and make their way to the capital city.

Teron stood with Essandra as Cyrus and the assassins gathered around her, and she handed them each a cup with a dark liquid.

“Are we going to need him?” Orion asked, eyeing the healer.

“I do need to make some cuts. He’s here to fix you up after.

” Essandra took the assassin’s hand. “I need to join you together through a vein of lifeblood. I’ll do it here,” she said as she drew her finger across his wrist, just above the base of his thumb.

“Then you’ll clasp hands like this,” she added, demonstrating, “and press the cuts together.”

“Cozy,” Orion said.

She didn’t let go of Orion’s hand right away, and Cyrus wondered if they’d still be able to do the mission if he were to cut that hand off. Instead, he drank down the bitter mixture in his cup.

“The two of you first,” Essandra said as she had Orion and Cyrus face each other. She took their empty cups and put them on the table.

They both offered their right hands, palms up. She made quick slices as she whispered foreign words into the air. Orion’s stare stayed locked on Cyrus, but he wasn’t wearing his usual insufferable smirk. Was he nervous? Good.

Essandra continued her chanting. Cyrus didn’t understand the words, but she repeated the same ones over and over. Then she pressed their wrists together. They clasped each other’s arms just as she’d demonstrated.

The rush of the bond was immediate. It wasn’t like the normal blood bond; there wasn’t a mental pull. Instead, it filled Cyrus with a total sense of possession. Of possessing . It was like he’d been given an empty sea, and he filled it with the ocean of his being.

Orion jerked back as he twisted against him. “No, fuck this, get him out.” He ripped his arm from Cyrus. “Get him out, get out!”

Essandra grabbed his arm, trying to calm him. “It will feel intensely invasive at first. Just give it a moment to pass.”

Cyrus let the bond pull him in, exploring what he could do. He could see, he could hear, but he couldn’t feel anything. He possessed the body but couldn’t control it. It didn’t keep him from trying, though.

Orion clawed at his head and chest. “Get him out!”

“Cyrus!” Essandra hissed.

Cyrus relented, pulling back.

Orion stumbled to the side of the room and vomited, and Cyrus let himself enjoy the small wave of satisfaction that came from seeing the assassin doubled over.

But that satisfaction quickly evaporated as Essandra put a hand on Orion’s back. “You can push him out,” she told him. “ You control the bond. Just close yourself to him.”

And the bond Cyrus felt disappeared.

Teron moved to Cyrus, but Cyrus waved for him to pause. “I’ll wait until after we’ve done the others,” he said.

“It has to be a new cut with each bond,” Essandra responded shortly.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I think you just like cutting me.”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe I do. Right now, anyway.”

Was she angry at him? She didn’t give him time to think about it as she turned to the rest of the assassins.

“All right, who’s next?” She looked at Cyrus. “It can’t be everyone. It’ll be too much, and you’ll risk the stability of the entire bond. I suggest only three more, then just use the regular blood bond with the vials for everyone else.”

“Thane, Raze,” Orion said, slightly recovered now. “When we split, that will give eyes in each team.”

“And one more?”

Orion considered for a moment. “Feran.”

The three chosen assassins looked at Cyrus warily, then at Orion, before finally stepping forward.

Essandra created the bond for each of them, and the process went much like the bond with Orion had, with each man having a visceral reaction.

“Why is it making us sick?” Feran asked after, as he leaned against the table.

“Your body is trying to purge the cohabitation, like it’s an intrusion,” Essandra said. “It will be easier next time.”

“It is an intrusion,” Orion snapped. “And there won’t be a next time.” He eyed Cyrus angrily. “Make this one count.”

They spent the next hour getting used to the bond.

It took Cyrus a few tries, but he was surprised to find that it was easier to learn than the blood bond had been.

It felt like a dance—he could lean in and lean out, step in and step out, provided the assassins opened themselves to him.

Essandra had said it wasn’t a physical bond, but it felt physical.

Perhaps that was what made it an easier ability to wield.

It also wasn’t as overwhelming as the blood bond. He didn’t see their memories; he wasn’t besieged with their pasts. He simply saw what they saw and heard what they heard. He could silently speak to them, and with a push, he could speak through them. It was as if they were sharing one body.

Yes. This would work nicely.

“All right,” Orion told his men once they’d gotten comfortable with it, or, rather, as comfortable as they could. “It’s late. Get some sleep. We sail out with the sun.”

The men filtered out.

“I’m turning in as well,” Essandra said. Then to Orion, she added, “I’ll see you off in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t leave otherwise,” he said.

She shook her head with stern lips, but there was a smile underneath. “Good night,” she said, and she slipped out of the room.

Cyrus’s eyes fell back on Orion. He should have asked Essandra if killing one of them would break the integrity of the bond with the others.

Orion chuckled. “I’m starting to get the impression that you don’t like me.”

“Were you taught your skills of observation, or do they come naturally?” Cyrus replied dryly.

Orion snorted. “I’m not trying to take your woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The fact this man thought he could talk to him about Essandra flamed the fire hotter, but Cyrus held his anger. “There’s nothing about you that worries me. And she’s not my woman.” Cyrus had never had anyone who belonged to him. Whom he belonged to…

Orion chuckled again. “Yeah, okay.” He grew more serious.

“You know, she could have changed our marks of ownership to you, or to herself. But she didn’t.

She severed them completely. For that, I’m forever in her debt, and I’ll always consider her a friend.

But you don’t have anything to worry about.

” He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and held it out to Cyrus.

Cyrus eyed it suspiciously but took it and opened it.

Orion smiled. “That’s my woman,” he said.

The sketch was so real, it felt lifelike. A young woman. Despite it being drawn in charcoal, Cyrus could tell her long hair was blond, probably similar to his own. She had a square face, although still very feminine and very beautiful.

“She has green eyes too,” Orion said. “Like gems.”

“You drew this?”

The assassin nodded. “The guild wouldn’t let us keep personal effects. We couldn’t have anything on us when we went to make a kill. Before every job, I would burn it, and after, I’d draw it again.”

Cyrus refolded the paper carefully and handed it back to him. “Where is she?” he asked.

Orion shook his head. “I don’t know. She was a slave in Elam.

I met her when I had a job there. I was younger then.

It went poorly, and she helped me escape.

” He stared at the folded parchment. “I took every job I could in Elam after. The next three years were the happiest of my life.” He tucked the paper back into his pocket, and his smile fell.

“Then she was sent to Japheth,” he said.

“But Japheth doesn’t keep slaves, and from what I’ve learned, she’s no longer there.

I haven’t been able to track where she might have gone.

” He paused, his breath uneven. “Or if she’s even still alive,” he added.

Orion spoke quieter now, so quietly that Cyrus had to strain to hear him. “Assuming she is alive, I like to think she’d come here, to Rael—that she’d hear of your promise and come.” He cast his gaze to the ground. “It’s the reason I stay.”

Cyrus didn’t have words.

“Essandra tried to help me find her,” Orion said.

He leaned back on his heel in surprise. She hadn’t said anything. “She knows?”

The assassin nodded. “But I don’t have anything that belonged to her. There’s nothing Essandra can do.”

Cyrus stood quietly, now feeling very much like a fool. “What’s her name?” he asked.

“Vitalia.” Orion smiled, but it was a sad smile. “It’s been a long time. She probably thinks I’m dead.”

That might be all too true in the next few days. “Well, try not to let that happen,” Cyrus said, “and I promise you, if you’re successful, when you get back, I’ll do what I can to help you find her as well.”

Orion’s surprised eyes locked on Cyrus. “Do you mean it?”

Cyrus nodded.

“That alone would make all of this worth it,” Orion said. “Thank you.”

Cyrus nodded again. It was the least he could do for a man who was about to help him destroy the Shadowlands. A man who still had something to live for.