15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Cyrus stood on the port wall, watching as ships sailed out of the harbor.
This was the fourth day in a row he’d come to the port.
A few days prior, Miriel had returned to Pryam.
She’d taken Bash, who had continued to apologize profusely to Cyrus to the very end, all the way until the gangways were raised on the ship.
Cyrus still wasn’t sure he’d forgiven him, but in watching them both together, it was quite clear who controlled the relationship. And it wasn’t Bash.
Now Cyrus was here again, seeing out yet another fleet of ships with the last of the three legions bound for Japheth.
It was the second wave of what he’d committed to Gregor.
He waited for news of how the Shadow King had taken the loss of his alliance.
Cyrus didn’t think this would actually spiral them into war, but an opportunity at the Shadow King was close now.
He could feel it.
And he would be ready.
“I’m surprised the council didn’t come with one last effort to stop you,” Kord said, appearing beside him.
Yes, they’d fought him quite valiantly with very compelling arguments when they’d learned he was sending nearly half the army to Japheth. Not compelling enough to sway him, though.
“Why do you even have a council?” Kord asked.
“Because they have ideas. And advice.”
“But when do you listen?”
“Look at all the infrastructure changes I’ve approved.”
“We were ready to take Serra,” Kord said.
“We’re still ready to take Serra.”
Kord scoffed. “With half an army?”
“I don’t even need an army.” Cyrus felt like he was repeating the same things all over again.
People weren’t listening. He knew he could take Serra simply with the slaves from within.
And keeping his men in Japheth under the guise of an alliance solved two problems for him: it kept pressure on Gregor, and it fed an army that he struggled to sustain.
He’d also have his army on the mainland and be ready to move against the Shadow King.
He was planning a war.
A war that was close.
And he had to be ready.
Back at the palace and feeling energized, Cyrus took the mainway steps two at a time, heading toward his study. However, before he reached it, Orion caught him in the hall.
“There’s something you need to see,” the assassin told him.
And now the energy he’d been feeling was waning. Still, he followed Orion to the arena and through the corridors underneath, to a small holding room where three men lay on the floor.
Unfamiliar men.
Dead men.
“We caught them trying to get to Essandra,” Orion said.
“They’re assassins?”
Orion nodded but wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“To break their bonds?” Cyrus didn’t even need to ask the question. He already knew. He’d known this would happen. Anger flamed inside him.
Orion nodded again but still didn’t look at him. “They were surprised to find me and my men. They thought we’d left, which means the guild probably thinks the same.”
Cyrus wasn’t sure if that increased the risk to Essandra or if it helped.
He was a little concerned at how losing three more assassins in Rael might appear to the Jackals.
“Is the guild able to distinguish between when an assassin’s bond is broken by death and when it’s broken by a witch? ” he asked.
“Yes. They’ll know these men are dead.”
“Good.” That was certainly better than them assuming more interference from Essandra. “Does Essandra know about these three?”
Orion shook his head.
“Good,” he said again. “Get rid of them.” Cyrus turned to leave.
“Do you know how I killed them so easily?” Orion said.
Cyrus paused.
“I let them think I was helping them.” His voice was thick with guilt. “I let them trust me.”
“You did the right thing.”
“The right thing?” Orion snorted as he shook his head again. “All they wanted was their freedom. You think this is right?”
Their stares locked.
“This keeps Essandra safe,” Cyrus said. “That makes it right.”
Within the month, the first of the new schools was finished, and they celebrated with music and food and activities, which were somehow very different from the other stupid festivals with music and food and activities.
Cyrus stood in the central hall of the new three-level spired building with stained-glass windows, watching people make merry.
“Congratulations,” he told Essandra as he handed her a chalice of wine.
She gave a smile. “Thank you.” She took a sip. “I just wish Miriel could have seen this.”
“She will. We’ll have her back soon.”
“I hope so.”
“We will,” he assured her. “I don’t want her alone in Pryam all the time anyway. Rael’s a short journey; she can spend part of her time here. Plus, it’s better for her to be around you and the coven as much as possible, learn as much as possible.”
Essandra smiled. “She’s already worked through all the spells I sent back with her to practice.”
Cyrus chuckled. “She wrote to you?” He’d gotten a letter too, where Miriel had told him the same.
“Are you jealous?” she teased.
“Of course not. She drew a flower on my letter.”
“She drew two on mine.”
Cyrus couldn’t help another chuckle. He was glad to see Miriel and Essandra growing closer. He’d hoped as much. Miriel needed another woman in her life. She needed another witch. Essandra was the best of both.
“I have been thinking quite a lot about Miriel,” he said. “Perhaps she could join your coven.”
Essandra shook her head. “I don’t think that would be a good move for her.
She’s a queen, which complicates things.
She has to straddle both the ordinary and the magical world, and I don’t think her being accountable to a high witch—especially a foreign high witch—is the right thing for her, even if that high witch has the best of intentions for her.
And I don’t think it will help her win favor with the Etrean Union.
It could make things worse. They’d see my potential for control as a threat. ”
“Should she try to form her own coven?” he asked. “Build more powers that she could use?”
“It’s actually not common for the witches of a coven to share power. My coven can because of me. Miriel would have to find a bond witch, and there aren’t very many of us. It’s why we’re so valuable.”
Cyrus cocked his head. “And here I recall you trying to convince me at one point that you didn’t have any power,” he joked.
“A bond witch is only as powerful as those who agree to bond with her. If she has no one who will share their power, she’s power less . And bond witches are usually used to make other witches powerful, not themselves.”
“Is this why you think Soroya will still come after you?” Soroya was the high witch that led the coven Essandra had been bound to before she broke free and got away. Just the thought of her coming after Essandra lit a fire in his veins.
“Soroya will come after me because I escaped her,” she told him. “I’m sure she’s found another bond witch by now, but she’ll still come to punish me.”
Cyrus dropped his voice. “You still have nightmares.” He’d meant it as a question, even though it didn’t sound like one.
It had been a little while since he’d seen a nightmare from her, but with the new bond she’d created between them, Essandra didn’t have to use his blood as much as she used to, which meant he didn’t have access to her mind as often as he used to.
The faintest slip of her face answered for her.
He stepped closer. “I’ve told you this before, and I’ll tell you again. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She shook her head. “Even you can’t stand against Soroya.”
“Both of us together?” he said. “Our power together?”
She shook her head again. “It doesn’t matter. I told you—she drains people of their power. It doesn’t matter how much you have. Even if she somehow didn’t, Soroya is two hundred years old. Her skill, her spellwork—”
“Two hundred years old?” Tension pulled his brows. “Do all witches live that long?”
“They can, yes. Longer, even. Our power slows our aging.”
“So, you can live that long?”
She grew quiet, then she said, “I’ll live until Soroya finds me. It won’t be two hundred years.”
He stepped even closer. “Essandra—”
“Don’t tell me you’ll stop her. You’ll make promises you can’t keep. And I’ve already accepted my fate. I accepted it when I broke my bond and chose to leave, and I accept it over and over again each day that I choose to stay here.”
She smiled, but it was a sad smile. And Cyrus didn’t even know what he could say to all that.
Essandra looked back out across the floor full of people dancing, to Visa and Everan, who’d been at it song after song. “They’re having fun.”
Well, Visa was definitely having fun, but Cyrus was pretty sure Everan was just trying to survive.
He heard the call of his name and turned to see Kord walking toward him. On Kord’s arm was a woman with long blond hair and a blue dress that matched the hue of her eyes.
“I want to introduce you to Leti,” Kord said.
The woman made a low curtsey. “So pleased to meet you, Your Majesty.”
This was the woman Kord had been dancing with at the festival over a month and a half ago—the woman Kord thought he needed to build his legacy and lead a respectable life. The woman who’d replaced Hephain in Kord’s ambition.
“Cyrus, this is Leti,” Kord said again, making another attempt at the introduction.
She swallowed and glanced at Kord, then curtsied again.
Essandra stepped forward, extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”
Leti clasped it, confused, but smiled and nodded respectfully. “And you, Lady Essandra.” She gave another unnecessary curtsey.
Kord gently pulled at her. “Why don’t you get us some wine?” he told her. “I’ll be right there.”
“Of course!” She smiled, gave yet another curtsy to both Cyrus and Essandra, then flitted away.
Kord’s eyes bore into Cyrus. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.” Or nothing he could say.
“You can’t even greet her? That’s fucking bullshit.”
“You can’t tell me this is what you really want.”
Kord shifted back on his heel with a snort, and his face twisted. “As opposed to what? War?” He shook his head. “Do you not want me to be happy?”
Cyrus snapped up his head, and their eyes locked. “That’s all I want for you.”
“Then why don’t you act like it?”
Cyrus wished he had the words, but they wouldn’t come.
Kord shook his head again, then turned and disappeared into the crowd to find Leti.
Essandra swatted his arm. “What was that?”
“He shouldn’t be with that woman.”
“Why not?”
He couldn’t tell her. “He thinks she’s what he wants. But she isn’t.”
Essandra sighed. “Not everyone wants war and blood and death. Most people want a person to share their life with. A family. Love.”
“That’s not what I…” He shook his head. “No.”
Essandra stared at him, a deep sadness etching her brow. “You can’t see it because it’s not what you want.” Then she, too, disappeared into the crowd, leaving Cyrus standing on his own.
In his mind, he felt the pull of the blood bond.
Sid. Sid had stayed in Mercia, taking over Jaem’s search for Bravat, and hopefully he’d found him, although hearing about Bravat was the last thing Cyrus really wanted to do right now.
Still, he pushed out a long sigh and stepped back outside onto the empty mezzanine, letting his mind reach out.
“ Woah ,” Sid said as Cyrus entered his mind. It was the young fighter’s first time using the blood, and Cyrus could hear his unease.
“ Did you find him? ” Cyrus asked.
“ Yeah. ”
“ Good. Good work. ” It was a relief he wouldn’t have to send Jaem back to help. Jaem had just returned from Japheth, but Cyrus had other things planned for him than chasing down a wayward troublemaker.
“ There’s a problem, though ,” Sid said.
“ What kind of problem? ”
“ Bravat’s got himself an army. ”