14. Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
They ate dinner in silence, with only the sound of silverware tapping their plates.
Even the dogs were quiet. Visa had tried to start general conversation around the table, but it had quickly died, and she’d conceded to the quiet again.
Miriel glared at Cyrus between her bites of food.
He’d managed to make it through the day without killing Bash, although Bash wasn’t at the table with them now.
And there was another absence.
Hephain.
It had been over two weeks since the festival, and Hephain hadn’t joined the group for their regular dinners since. Each time he’d had a rational reason, but now, with a string of rational reasons piling up, Cyrus wondered if he planned to stop coming altogether.
Cyrus’s gaze wandered to Kord. He appeared unfazed, although his eyes repeatedly caught on Hephain’s empty chair across from him.
Cyrus wasn’t normally bothered by uneasy air, but these were the people closest to him. Even Miriel.
“We’ll go for a walk this evening,” he said to her. Their day had been disrupted, and he hadn’t yet taken her to see the capital. It would be light for a little longer, and Rael at dusk was quite beautiful. And they could talk.
“I might actually head to bed early,” she replied. “I’m quite—”
“After we walk,” he said firmly.
Miriel pursed her lips.
They finished dinner and stood.
“I need to change my shoes,” she said shortly. “I’ll meet you in the hall.”
“If you don’t, I’ll come get you,” he told her.
Her lips thinned, and she stalked from the room.
Cyrus glanced at Essandra to find her disapproving eyes on him. “What?” he said. “You think I should leave her alone?”
“I think you should start treating her with more respect. She’s a queen. And an adult who can make her own decisions.”
“To be fair, I didn’t know she was an adult until today.”
Everan, Kord, and the others stood awkwardly until Visa ushered them out, leaving Cyrus and Essandra alone.
“You should apologize to her,” Essandra told him as the doors closed.
“She doesn’t understand. I just need to—”
“Impose your company?” She shook her head. “ No. Apologize.”
“But I’m not—”
“Don’t say you’re not sorry! Be sorry! I know it came from a good place, but you were wrong, and you acted wrong.” The strength of her voice grew with each word.
“I don’t think it was wrong!”
“It was! And even if it wasn’t, sometimes the apology isn’t about you being wrong. It’s about caring for the other person enough to show them that repairing the rift between you is more important than being right!”
He paused. Her green eyes were aflame, her lips parted and ready with more words.
“This isn’t just about Miriel, is it?” he asked.
She scoffed. “Of course it’s about Miriel.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
Her breath hitched, and her eyes of fire shifted to eyes of surprise.
He stepped closer. “There’s been a distance between us, and I know it’s my fault.” He took another step nearer, closing the space between them. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you don’t have your own agency. I know you make decisions for yourself.”
She eased ever so slightly.
“These things aren’t always clear to me,” he said. “Sometimes I miss, but I’m trying my best.”
She was quiet for a moment, then she said softly, “I know.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “For you, I’m sorry. And completely separate—I want you to use Alexander. It makes sense for you to, and I would have agreed. You don’t have to use him in place of an apology, because I do apologize. I won’t make decisions for you again. I’m sorry. ”
“I’m sorry too,” she whispered.
She stared up at him, her chest rising and falling. She looked like she wanted him even closer. His eyes moved to her lips, and he let his head drop ever so slightly.
She didn’t move. He waited for her to lift her face, lift her chin, something—anything—the smallest of movements to invite him to kiss her.
So badly he wanted to kiss her.
Of course she wouldn’t invite him. She’d never let him kiss her before. Now they’d been distant for weeks, and they were at odds over Miriel, not to mention he was in the midst of an apology.
Kissing her now would be peak failure of that apology.
It would be one more thing to apologize for .
But he was entirely prepared to apologize more. He dropped his head to her—
The door to the dining room opened, and Miriel stepped inside. “There you are. I was waiting in the hall.”
For a moment, Cyrus’s mind went blank.
“This walk I was threatened with?” she snipped.
Essandra stepped back from him. “Yes, your walk,” she reminded him. “You should go.” Then, she added, in a whisper just for him, “Behave and be nice.”
Cyrus sighed. He waved the dogs to stay with Essandra and followed after Miriel.
The blazing heat of the afternoon had left with the sun, and he was grateful. Some last rays still lit the western sky, but torches started to speckle the city.
His attempts at conversation were met with minimal replies. Not that he was expecting her to be friendly after the events of the day, but he wanted to mend things between them, even though she showed no sign of feeling the same.
He led her up the tower, which boasted the best views of the capital. They stood on the terrace of the highest level. The sun sank even further, giving way to a rolling sea of torchlight.
“The best view of the city,” he said, doing his best to fill the void. “There’s another place I’d like to take you—a bluff overlooking the Aged Sea. It’s my favorite in all of Rael. We can go there tomorrow.” And now he was rambling. Gods.
She gave a stiff nod.
He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. Although he wasn’t sorry for going after Bash, but he managed to still his tongue on that.
Her head jerked up and her eyes widened. “You are?”
Sorry enough. Damn it. He fell back on Essandra’s words. “You’re a queen, and an adult, and can make your own decisions.”
She gaped at him. “Do you really mean that?”
No. “Yes.”
“And you’re not angry at me?”
“No.” That part was true.
A wide smile broke across her face but then faltered. “You can’t be mad at Bash either.”
Oh, he absolutely could.
“I was scared after you left Pryam,” she said. “I thought that as soon as people saw you go, they would know I was all alone. I couldn’t sleep. He stood outside my door constantly to make sure I was safe, and he coordinated all the men guarding me.”
“Yes, that was his job.”
“I was so stressed.” Her fingers picked at the frill on the front of her dress. “I spent some time away from the capital to try to calm my nerves. He never left my side. On the way back, we stayed at Devry Castle, which is barely a castle, by the way. Hardly any accommodation.”
His eyes blurred under a slow blink.
“Anyway,” Miriel continued, “I told him he could share the bed. And he slept in the chair by the door .” Her words became higher pitched, betraying her annoyance.
“Again,” he said, “I’m glad to hear he was doing his job.”
“We went for months , and he never kissed me, although I gave him plenty of opportunities to do so. He even averted his eyes when I got naked.”
At this point, it was starting to sound like Miriel had taken advantage of Bash.
“I finally just told him that I really liked him,” she said.
Because apparently she hadn’t been obvious enough.
“He said he really liked me back. And he did end up letting me touch him, but he was so worried about you being mad at him that he couldn’t…
well…” Her cheeks flushed, and she shrugged.
“ You know. And then I cried, and it was the most terrible evening ever.”
Cyrus shook his head. “You don’t need to share any further.”
“But that’s how it’s been,” she continued. “He said we couldn’t do anything until he had your blessing, and he’s been planning to talk to you since we’ve arrived.”
Maybe Bash had been telling the truth. “He really hasn’t touched you?”
She rolled her eyes. “He refuses.” Then she gave an unapologetic smile. “We do take off all our clothes and sleep beside each other, though.”
“I didn’t need to know that.”
Her smile widened. “He’s so handsome.”
That was not what he wanted to hear. “I… Maybe you should talk to your friends who are girls about these kinds of things.”
“I don’t really have any.”
No, she probably didn’t. “Yes, well… um…” He trailed off as the final rays of the sun disappeared. What to say…
There was always the practical. “What happens if you decide to execute a marriage alliance?” he asked her.
“Are you saving your heart and staying chaste for a potential future political transaction?”
He snorted. Fair.
“So can I take Bash back to Pryam so we can be together?” she asked.
“You don’t need my blessing.”
“Bash does. He respects you more than anyone, and I think he’d rather fall on his sword than disappoint you.”
He wanted to say no. He was still angry. But she looked so hopeful. This would make them both happy, and Cyrus did want them to be happy. He sighed. “You have my blessing, then.”
She smiled, and before he could stop her, she threw her arms around him.
Miriel’s hugs were soft and warm. Not just warm from her body, but warm from her spirit, and Cyrus didn’t realize how much he needed that until he felt it. He let himself hold her in return. Touch was healing—not just any touch, but the touch of someone who cared for him and who he cared about.
When she pulled back, she smiled up at him. “You give good hugs.”
“I don’t think anyone else would agree with that.”
She frowned. “Do you hug anyone else?”
“No.”
She shrugged. “Maybe you should.”
No. He wasn’t going to do that.
Banners flapped wildly against their staffs, and the canopies that stretched across the market streets for shade billowed and pulled at their ties.
These were the Winds—not a great feat of naming creativity—and the sand that came with them could scrape the skin off a man.
Fortunately, they were rare, hitting once, maybe twice a year.
Only once did Cyrus have to fight in the arena during the Winds.
Bloodsport games were usually canceled to protect spectators, but the Winds had come in the middle of his fight.
Although victorious, he and Ram had suffered severe sand burns.
It had taken Teron two days to heal them.
Cyrus clutched the letter in his hand and waited for a small break before quickly crossing the courtyard toward the army office.
He needed to find Everan. The coward king of Japheth had done it—he’d actually diverted trade intended for the Shadow King and sent it to the trading kingdom of Tarsus instead.
And now Cyrus needed to be ready.
Not that he thought one single refused trade shipment would send Japheth and the Shadowlands crashing into war, but it did show their alliance was breaking.
Cyrus stepped into the army office and was surprised to find Hephain. He sat at the desk, his hand gliding a pen across a parchment, and looked up when he heard the door open.
“Good morning,” he greeted Cyrus as he stood. “I’m just finishing recording everyone who’s registered to go to Pryam when Queen Miriel returns.”
Cyrus nodded. Their approach was working well.
Instead of choosing which refugees were to be relocated to Pryam, which could better support them, they’d asked for volunteers.
These volunteers would be given a small piece of land and an opportunity to start a new life.
He had been pleasantly surprised. Ten thousand people had already registered—mostly intact families.
People still holding out hope that their enslaved loved ones would escape and come to Rael generally decided to stay to wait for them.
“Three thousand of them are soldiers who’ve completed their basic training,” Hephain said. “About four hundred of those have completed advanced training.”
That made sense. While they were part of the army, most soldiers had families, and if their family wanted to relocate, they would want to go too, which Cyrus fully supported.
He’d committed to sending Miriel men to bolster her army; he’d just expected to have a harder time of it.
This was good news. He might have to recall those soldiers if he moved to war, but he’d manage that when the time came.
“That’s great,” Cyrus said.
Hephain nodded. “I’ll make sure you get the final tallies.”
“Thank you. Have you seen Everan?”
“You just missed him. I think he might have been looking for you.”
He was probably headed to Cyrus’s study. Cyrus would meet him there. He looked out the window. The Winds had picked back up again. He waited by the door. “Don’t mind me—I’m just waiting for the Winds. Don’t let me keep you.”
Hephain sat back down, dipping his pen in the inkwell.
Cyrus couldn’t help himself. “You weren’t at dinner again yesterday evening,” he said.
Hephain nodded but kept his eyes on the parchments in front of him. “I’ve just been really busy. I’ve had—”
“Is it because of Kord?”
Hephain’s hand stilled. His eyes darted up and locked with Cyrus’s, and he swallowed. “You can’t say anything. No one can know. He doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“I’m not going to say anything.”
“Even to him.”
Cyrus caught on those words.
“Even to him,” Hephain begged.
“Even to him,” Cyrus finally assured him.
Hephain sighed a long breath and closed his eyes. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“We don’t have to.”
Silence hung heavy between them.
“There is something I would ask, though,” Hephain said. “I’d like to go to Pryam with Queen Miriel, when she returns.”
“Hephain—”
“I know I sit on the council and have duties here, and I don’t know what I would say to Kord, but I…” His words waivered. “I…”
It was painful to watch a man break, especially when that man was a friend.
He couldn’t help himself. Cyrus rocked off the doorframe he’d been leaning against. “Hey, I’m actually glad I found you here.
I, uh, wanted to tell you that I think it would be prudent to have a member of our council in Pryam.
Brant is doing an excellent job, but I want him to focus on the army.
Miriel needs advisers too. She needs help assembling her own council.
A man with experience. Is this a position you’d be willing to accept? ”
Hephain’s eyes welled. “I accept,” he said hoarsely.
Cyrus nodded. “Good. I’ll let everyone know that I’m sending you.”
Then he stepped back out into the Winds.