7. Chapter 7
Chapter seven
The smells of the port brought back thoughts of Pryam, but Cyrus wasn’t headed to Pryam. He’d put off Japheth for as long as he could, and despite having replied to Gregor that he’d visit several weeks after his last letter, it had now been over a month and a half.
That could still be considered several weeks to some. To Cyrus.
But the council pushed him not to wait any longer, and Essandra wouldn’t let him wait any longer.
He was still building an army to move against Serra, and despite it growing quickly, they weren’t ready to act yet.
In the meantime, he needed to continue to move Rael’s future forward.
And although he’d delayed a trip to Japheth, he wasn’t particularly disgruntled about going.
He’d come to see that forming an alliance with Gregor might also serve his own interests.
If he could break Japheth’s alliance with the Shadowlands, it would be one less ally to come to the Shadow King’s aid.
The ship was nearly ready as he boarded, and he joined Everan and Ram on the bow.
It was strange not to have Kord beside him.
Out of all his brothers, Kord had been in his life the longest. They’d fought together, survived together, wept together, grown together.
Kord knew him better than he knew himself.
Now he was gone. He’d said he would travel the world, and Cyrus had given him the means to see everything he wanted and more.
He desperately hoped their paths would cross again, but he also knew he’d have to come to terms with the fact that they likely wouldn’t, and that left an aching hole in his chest. He tried not to think about it, but it had been on his mind since they’d said goodbye two days ago.
Another brother gone from his life—
And this one hurt the worst.
Essandra stood on the docks, her dark hair blowing in the sea breeze.
She’d contemplated coming with him to Japheth but decided not to.
He was glad. He didn’t like the idea of bringing her to a place he hadn’t first visited, a place he didn’t know was safe.
And he didn’t trust Gregor. He didn’t like him.
Gregor was not a friend.
Apparently, she felt the same. Earlier that morning, she’d worked a spell over him. He recognized it—it was the spell she’d used when they had traveled through the Aether to the stone circle.
“This just lets me know if something goes wrong, if something happens to you,” she’d told him.
Cyrus wasn’t worried about what would happen to him in Japheth so much as he was about what would happen in Rael while he was gone.
The times he’d left before, the nobles had tried to retake the capital, but the past three weeks had been quiet.
Cyrus wasn’t foolish enough to truly believe they’d killed the entire resistance with the last encounter, but they’d likely killed the leadership. They’d cut the head from the snake.
But the thing about decapitated snakes—they could still be dangerous.
Cyrus knew Essandra could take care of herself, and she had her guards. Hephain and the palace guard would remain with her, as would the dogs. Still, he didn’t like leaving her.
Footfalls came behind him, and Cyrus turned to see Sergen.
“The horses are loaded,” Sergen said.
“Good.” It had been Kord’s idea to bring the animals, so that Cyrus wouldn’t be pressed into accepting an offered carriage. He’d mentioned it when they’d visited Pryam, and it was a good idea. Kord had a lot of good ideas. Cyrus wished he’d listened to him more.
“Are you all right?” Everan asked.
Cyrus looked up to find his friend staring back at him with a trenched brow. “I’m fine,” he said.
They both turned and started toward the shipmaster’s room. They needed to review navigation plans one last time. The weather wasn’t expected to be favorable. Cyrus was hoping that expectation had changed.
“Have you seen Orion?” he asked Everan.
“I know he boarded, but I don’t know where he’s at now.”
Cyrus hadn’t been sure if the assassin would come, given he was still angry about the Shadowlands.
Cyrus had hoped he would—not because he needed anything from the assassin but because it was the last known place of the woman Orion had been searching for, Vitalia.
Despite the devastating failure in the Shadowlands, Cyrus still felt obligated to help find her.
He didn’t expect the offer to make Orion any less angry at him, but it was still the right thing to do.
“Are all the men ready?” he asked as they took the stairs down from the top level of the bow.
“They are,” Everan said. “I also checked supplies. I’m assuming we can restock in Japheth, but if for some reason we can’t, we have enough to get us there and back.”
Cyrus nodded. “Good. I also want—”
He stopped abruptly.
And he stared at Kord walking up the gangway.
His friend carried a pack over his shoulder and dropped it on the deck when he reached them.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kord said before Cyrus could even find words.
Cyrus shook his head, still in disbelief. “What are you—”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t believe you think I’d let you go to Japheth by yourself, though.” He jabbed a finger to Cyrus’s chest. “But I swear to the fucking gods, if you start a war while we’re there…”
Cyrus shook his head again, this time in reassurance. “I’m going to discuss an alliance—”
Kord’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at Everan and then looked back at Cyrus.
Cyrus smiled. “You have my word, brother.”