22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
The dogs growled low, and Cyrus dropped a hand to settle them.
“You’re here! Good!” The thin but potbellied king wobbled down the plank to the dock.
Cyrus almost wanted to see him fall. Gods, it was too early in the day to have to deal with this man.
“You got my bird!” Gregor shouted before he’d even reached the bottom. “I’d hoped you’d be ready and waiting.”
What bird? Cyrus stared at him. “Ready? For what?”
Gregor gaped at him. “Did you not read my letters?”
No. “Of course I did.”
“We have to go, then!”
Cyrus shook his head. “No, I didn’t read them.”
Gregor stared at him, wide-eyed and practically frothing at the mouth. “Phillip has moved forces to Bahoul! I knew Mikael would betray me. He’s let Phillip position himself close with an army that rivals my own.”
Any army rivaled Japheth’s without the mercenaries. But Cyrus paused. Bahoul—the mountain stronghold that belonged to the Shadowlands—Phillip was there?
“We have to take action before he brings the rest of his army,” Gregor said, “and before Mercia and Kharav join him!”
Cyrus wouldn’t be so quick to act. His primary target was the Shadow King, not Aleon. “Let’s go back to the palace,” he told Gregor, “where we can think things through.”
Despite Gregor’s objections and incessant ranting, Cyrus did manage to make it back to the palace without harming him, although it was becoming increasingly harder to tolerate this man.
And he’d only just arrived.
“Gather the council,” Cyrus told Ram as they strode toward the council room.
Summoning his council was rarely the first thing on his list in response to a situation, but he could use more people to shoulder the burden of listening to this wailing imbecile of a king.
He stood in the council room as Gregor recounted the unfairness of life, having been hand-fed with a silver spoon but not getting the entirety of his inheritance.
“Tell me again how unfair life is,” Cyrus quipped, his patience quickly evaporating.
The gaudy king’s brows dipped in confusion.
Finally, the council filed in. Cyrus had never been so happy to see them.
Essandra was with them as well, with Orion escorting her to the door before leaving.
Cyrus was happy to see him taking his charge seriously.
He had meant it when he’d said he’d kill every assassin that came to Rael.
Of course, Essandra was still livid, but if that was the price for her safety, so be it.
With the council assembled, Gregor ran through his updates once again, to an audience who did a much better job than Cyrus of appeasing his need for attention.
“So, we must act now,” Gregor reiterated when he’d finished, “and strike before they come together.”
“I’m not yet convinced Aleon, Mercia, and the Shadowlands are all allied,” Cyrus said.
Gregor gaped at him. “You refuse the proof?”
Cyrus snorted. “What proof?”
“Mercia and Kharav are quite literally bound by a marriage alliance.” There was a slight shake in his hand. “And Phillip is in Bahoul, the Kharavian stronghold!”
“The Shadow King wouldn’t just give another king his stronghold. This feels taken .”
“There can be no question about Mercia and Aleon, though,” Gregor argued. “They have always been and will always be allies.”
“But we don’t know if the Shadowlands are with them.”
“What did the Shadow King say when you confronted him?” Essandra asked Gregor directly, quieting everyone in the room.
Gregor leveled his beady eyes on her in surprise. “What?”
She said her words slower. “What did the Shadow King say when you confronted him? Did he tell you he gave the stronghold to Aleon? Or did he tell you Aleon moved against him?”
Gregor’s thin lips thinned even more. “I didn’t give him the opportunity to spew lies.”
“So, you didn’t confront him,” she said.
Gregor’s face twisted. “I don’t need a wench telling me what I should or shouldn’t do with my allies.”
The room fell silent.
Cyrus’s eyes snapped to Gregor. For a moment, he thought he hadn’t heard right. “What did you say?” he asked.
“Time is of the essence! We must join our forces and strike before—”
“No.” Cyrus stood. “What did you say?” he asked again. Fire rippled under his skin.
The knot in Gregor’s throat bobbed. “I know Mikael very well, and I know how—”
“Apologize,” Cyrus said, cutting him off.
Gregor paused, and his mouth fell open. His eyes traveled the room. “What?”
Cyrus stepped around the table toward him. “Apologize.”
Gregor’s eyes darted to Essandra and then widened. He looked at the council and then back to Cyrus. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m rarely anything but. You’ll apologize to Lady Essandra. Now.”
Gregor’s breaths came quicker and shorter. He looked back at Essandra, blinking rapidly. “I apologize if I—”
“No if ,” Cyrus cut him off again.
“I apologize—”
“On your knees,” Cyrus added.
Gregor gaped at him. “To a woman ? I am a king !”
“A king who’s about to be a head shorter.” Cyrus pulled his sword from its scabbard. The councilmen all pushed back in their seats. Some rose. But no one spoke.
Gregor took a step back. “She doesn’t even look offended!”
“Because she’s mastered the art of tolerating men for the greater good.” Cyrus cocked his head. “I haven’t.”
“I am your ally!” Gregor shrieked as Cyrus stalked closer.
“On your knees, ally .”
Gregor jerked up his hands, surrendering, gasping. Cyrus paused and gave him a moment. Slowly, Gregor sank to a knee and gave a stiff nod toward Essandra. “I apologize for my words and for the offense they’ve caused.”
“And a proper address,” Cyrus demanded.
“My lady,” Gregor added. Then he scrambled to his feet.
Cyrus stepped to him and leaned close. “If you ever speak to her like that again, I’ll cut your tongue from your mouth and feed it to you through the hole I rip in your throat.” Cyrus stared at him through eyes that envisioned doing just that. “We’re done for now.”
Then Cyrus turned. “Lady Essandra,” he said as he motioned toward the door, offering her to exit before him. He wasn’t sure she would, but she surprised him and swept out of the room.
“What about Phillip?” Gregor called after him.
He didn’t bother to look back. “I’ll let you know what I decide.” Then he followed after Essandra.
Out in the hall, Cyrus’s blood still boiled. And more—he knew her chastisement was coming. She would remind him that she could take care of herself, that he’d imposed, crossed another line.
But her hand on his arm stopped him in his step. His anger suddenly evaporated. He forgot about Gregor.
She hadn’t touched him since he’d returned from Serra.
“Thank you,” she said.
He stared at her hand for a moment. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted her touch—how much he’d needed it. He wanted to step even closer, but that wasn’t how she meant this. So he simply said, “Of course.”
She cast her gaze down, but she didn’t take her hand from him. She hesitated for a moment before she said, “There’s so much I need to say to you, but I’m in a bit of a whirlwind, quite honestly.”
“It was a little shocking in there, I know.”
“Not about that.” She paused. “Orion told me. He told me that you brought me back, instead of taking an opportunity against your brother in Mercia.”
He shifted back on his heel.
“Were you not going to tell me?” she asked.
“I was… I was waiting…” Then he shook his head. Why was he lying? “No. I wasn’t.”
“Cyrus,” she whispered. “You should have killed him when you had the chance.”
“But I couldn’t.”
Her brow dipped. “Why?”
He stared at her. “I had to make sure you got home. I had to make sure you got to Teron. I couldn’t leave you.”
“But you missed your opportunity.”
“It was never an opportunity.”
Her brows drew together. “What?”
“I can’t kill him.”
Her lips parted, then closed again. She shook her head. The line between her brows deepened.
“You need him,” he said. He looked down at her hand still on his arm. “I can’t kill him because you need him.” His eyes met hers again. “And I’ll find a way to get his blood.”
Her eyes welled, and she clutched him tighter.
“I’m still angry with you,” she whispered. “But I… I… Thank you.” Her lip trembled. “For everything. For what happened in Mercia. For Alexander. For Gregor.”
“Gregor,” he scoffed.
She let him go and wiped her face. “That man is insufferable,” she said. “Unfortunately, as much as I appreciated that, I’m not sure it was a wise idea.”
Cyrus shrugged. “What’s he going to do? He has no one else. His alliance with the Shadow King has crumbled.”
“Which I’m sure he regrets now.”
“If he doesn’t, he will, when he finds out I can be so much worse.”