26. Chapter 26 #2
Oh. His racing heart slowed. Cyrus shook his head. “No,” he said, although that wasn’t exactly true. Jaem had reported mass mourning for the fallen Mercian justice well beyond the Mercian outer reaches. Areas Alexander didn’t even serve, Cyrus thought bitterly. Was anyone not mourning his brother?
He picked up his chalice but didn’t take a drink. His mind wandered back to the queen.
When would she find the blood? Maybe she rarely went out on her terrace. She probably hadn’t seen the vial yet. Or maybe she’d seen it and was trying to rationalize the physical reality with what she’d thought had been a dream.
He set the chalice back down.
She’d been so exhausted, maybe it had been more like a dream to her than he’d intended. Maybe she’d forgotten about it, only to then find a vial of blood on her terrace that she didn’t recognize or understand.
His eyes drifted back to Essandra. She ate quietly.
Then the realization struck him. “You won’t be able to use him to bring your sister back now. You won’t be able to use Alexander.”
Her eyes met his, and she swallowed.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She shook her head quickly. “No. Don’t be sorry for me. This is a heavy blow to you. I don’t want you to be sorry for me on top of it all.”
“You needed him.”
She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Who knows if it would have even worked.”
“What are you going to do now?” he asked.
“I’ll keep working on alternatives. The same as I have been.”
“Dark magic.”
She stiffened.
“I’m just asking,” he added.
“I’ll do whatever I need to.”
Another day passed. The Mercian queen still hadn’t touched the blood. Cyrus contemplated sending more birds to see if the vial was still on her terrace. But it would be a lot of energy with a strong likelihood of failure, and for what? What would he do if it was? What would he do if it wasn’t?
Cyrus paced his chamber, feeling like a fool. For him to have thought that this had even the slightest possibility of working—he was such an idiot. He was glad he hadn’t told anyone.
A knock sounded on his door. He crossed the room to open it and found Essandra waiting.
“I just came to check on you,” she said.
“I’m a little late for dinner, I know. I’ll come now.”
“Late? Cyrus, you missed it entirely. Again.”
“Again?” He shook his head. “I was there last night—”
“That was the day before.”
No. Two days couldn’t have passed. Could they?
Her eyes stared back at him.
“Are you worried for me?” he jested.
“I am,” she said, not jesting.
He sobered. “I’m fine.”
“You look awful.”
Yes, he probably did. “Do you want to come in?” he asked her, opening the door wider.
She shook her head. “I can’t.”
Right. He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked her. Not that he was inviting her for anything more than his company. But she didn’t want his company. She was so careful around him now. So guarded.
The words came out before he could stop them. “I feel like you hate me now.”
Her lips parted, and her gemmed eyes swept back and forth between his. “I don’t hate you,” she said softly.
“Well maybe not hate. Maybe dislike. I’ve messed things up, I know. But I don’t want to be just another man for you to tolerate.”
“Cyrus…” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” he told her. He was sorry for everything.
For leaving her. For betraying her trust. For disappointing her.
For not being able to give her what she needed.
For forcing his decisions. It wasn’t his desire to control her.
He only wanted to keep her safe, to protect her, even if she didn’t need it, even if she didn’t want it. He couldn’t not. He couldn’t—
His heart stopped as he felt the pull—the pull that came when his blood touched a person’s skin.
And not just any person.
The Mercian queen.
She’d found the blood. And had used it.
Essandra leaned closer. “Cyrus, I…” She glanced down at the ground.
She was sorry too? No—what would she be sorry for? He desperately wanted to know her next words, the words that sat on the tip of her tongue but wouldn’t come.
And then he didn’t.
He knew why she hesitated—because they were hard words to say. He’d ruined it. He’d ruined anything between them. And he didn’t want to make her say it. He couldn’t bear hearing it.
The blood still pulled at him. The Mercian queen. He could feel her. Despite the fact that he was about to be crushed by whatever Essandra had to say, he didn’t want to leave. But the queen would wait only for so long. If nothing happened, she’d wipe away the blood and he’d lose the opportunity.
He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t get the opportunity again. And he already knew Essandra’s words would devastate him. He didn’t need to make her say them.
Her eyes rose to meet his again, eyes that haunted him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He was sorry for all the things from before, but now even more—“I have to go.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Okay.”
And he closed the door between them.
Cyrus sank back against the wall beside the door and threw his mind toward the queen.
His chest hurt from the conversation with Essandra, and the pit in his stomach threatened to swallow him from the inside, but he tried to cast that aside.
If he let himself think about Essandra, he wouldn’t be able to focus on the queen.
And he needed to focus on the queen.
He found her sitting at her vanity in her chamber and staring at the blood smeared across her hand.
She’d remembered how to use it…
But he couldn’t come to her in person. She needed to meet him in the depths of her mind. Now to get her to do that…
As she glanced up from the vanity and into the mirror, he added himself to the reflection she saw, just behind her. It startled her, and she jumped up, overturning the chair.
She whirled to face him, but he wasn’t behind her, not really.
As she turned back to the mirror, shaking, her eyes met his in the reflection again.
“ How is this possible? ” she whispered.
She glanced behind her again, then back to the mirror.
“ How are you here? ” Her breaths came quick and shallow. “ Is it really you? ”
If only she knew…
“ Does the blood bring you? ” she asked.
Did she really need him to answer that?
“ How? I didn’t consume it; I only… ” She looked down at her palm again. “ Is this how you came to me in the mortium? Your blood on my skin? ”
Consume it? So, she did have experience with seers, although he was positive none of those experiences had been with someone quite like him.
“ I wasn’t really dreaming then ,” she said, more to herself than to him. “ And I’m not dreaming now. Are you in my mind? ”
How else would he be here? Maybe she didn’t have experience with seers.
Cyrus closed his eyes in the reflection, prompting her to do the same, and she did.
Finally, they stood in the depths of her mind, facing each other.
“ How are you here? ” she asked him, and she took a step closer. “ Is it really you? ”
His pulse quickened as she stared at him with her eyes wide and mouth open.
Now was the test of whether he could really pass for Alexander.
He wore a light linen tunic and dark brown leathers, with even darker riding boots that stretched to his knee.
This was the attire he’d seen Alexander wear, and Cyrus copied it exactly from the images in her mind.
“ Can you not speak? ” she asked.
He didn’t dare. It was the one thing certain to give him away.
She reached out a hand toward him, and he fought every urge to pull away.
He let her touch him, pooled his power to let her think she was touching him.
Cyrus didn’t understand this part of his ability, nor did he try very hard to.
It didn’t matter—the why or the how—only that he knew it worked this way.
Her breaths came broken and raw. “ How is this possible? ” Her hand spread wide across his chest, then clenched his tunic in a fist.
And suddenly, for a moment, he couldn’t move. The way she looked at him. The way she touched him. The way she grieved him.
No. Not him . Alexander.
No one would grieve Cyrus this way. He’d never been on the receiving end of love so freely given, love so freely shown.
“ Is this what happens when you leave life? ” she whispered.
So, she did recognize a difference from the Alexander she knew.
Her mind was frayed at the edges. Exhaustion still pervaded her, and he was thankful for it.
If she were thinking clearly, she’d notice more differences.
She’d know he wasn’t Alexander. However, even in her state, she might figure it out.
He didn’t want her to focus on him too intently, and he quickly pulled forward the vision of a tree-lined path, as he had the last time she’d seen him. He motioned toward it, and, slowly, she started forward.
“ Please, talk to me ,” she said as they walked.
He wished he could. He’d be able to ask her things directly, get more information, put their limited time together to better use. But he couldn’t risk her discovering him.
“ I miss you, Alexander. ” She stopped, swaying, and clutched her chest. “ It hurts ,” she whispered.
Her eyes teared, and her breaths were short and clipped. He wasn’t exactly sure what he should do, so he only stood.
“ I need you ,” she told him.
With Alexander as her lord justice, she would have depended on him.
She would have also trusted him…
Would she trust him still?
Cyrus reached out and took her hand. His heart raced in his chest. She stared at their hands a moment, her fingers clasped in his, then she lifted her eyes to him. A tear trailed down her cheek. “ I feel so lost ,” she said. “ And scared. ”
His heart beat faster, but he forced himself calm. He needed to keep her talking.
“ Mikael went back to Kharav. And, of course, he’s made Soren stay with me. He’s all alone. ”
Every muscle in Cyrus’s body froze.
“ I’m worried for him ,” she continued. “ If Japheth and Rael attack before he makes it through the Canyonlands, it could be disastrous. He’ll try to make it through the western pass. If he does, he’ll be safe. But until then… ”
Cyrus’s heart leapt to his throat. The Shadow King was traveling now. Right now. And Soren . He’d heard that name before—the name of his commander. He was here with the queen. The Shadow King was alone and vulnerable.
But only for a short time.
Cyrus had to go. He had to go now . The largest part of his army was in Japheth, ready to march. If he sailed from Rael without delay, he could reach Japheth and drive his army south in time to intercept the Shadow King.
The queen asked him something else, but he didn’t hear it.
He had to go.
She caught his arm, snapping his attention back to her. “ Alexander. ”
He stiffened and leaned back, pulling away, and let the vision of the tree-lined path go.
“ Alexander ,” she said softly. “ I don’t understand. Have you only returned to take silent walks with me? Why have you come? ”
A small pang of guilt stabbed at him for leaving her like this, but he wasn’t sure why. She meant nothing to him. He stepped back into the shadows.
“ Are you leaving? ”
He had what he’d come for.
“ Wait! ” she called. She said something else, but he didn’t hear it as he pulled himself from her mind.
As he opened his eyes to his own chamber again, his heart raced. This was it. Fire swelled within him. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.
It unsettled him to use the queen this way, to use her grief. But there was no room for guilt now, no time for regret. This was war. And fate had given him a blade.