37. Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
It took Teron four days to heal him. Cyrus drifted in and out of consciousness.
Every time he woke, Kord and Everan were there.
Sometimes others were there—Jaem, Sergen, Ram, and more.
But always Kord and Everan. They paced his room, racked with guilt that they hadn’t been with him in the fight against Soroya.
Cyrus was glad they hadn’t been. They’d have been killed like Orion.
Orion.
Teron could heal wounds, but he couldn’t heal the pain of loss. Cyrus couldn’t even think about Orion without his eyes burning.
Another letter arrived from Miriel, but he couldn’t bring himself to read it. She’d tell him all the things she was working on that made her happy, which always made Cyrus happy. Then she’d tell him how she missed him, how she loved him, how she couldn’t wait to see him again.
But Cyrus didn’t have a right to be happy. He wasn’t worthy of being missed. He wasn’t worthy of being loved.
He should have let Orion go to Mercia when he’d asked. He should have let him leave sooner. If he would have just let him go…
Orion didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve anything that fate had given him.
But he did deserve vengeance.
“I’m going to destroy them,” Cyrus said. His throat was raw, his voice hoarse.
“What?” Kord asked, and both he and Everan moved to the bed.
“The Jackals. The guild. The Shadow King. I’m going to destroy them all.”
Kord stared at him, wild-eyed. “This is literally the first thing you say after coming back from the brink of death?”
The bed shifted as Essandra sat down beside him. “Cyrus,” she said softly, “the Shadow King isn’t responsible for this.”
“He is. This is the world he builds. The Shadowlands sell men to the Jackals— children —to be made into assassins. He’s responsible for all of this!” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’m going to kill them all,” he promised.
Her brow dipped and her mouth parted.
“When does it end?” Kord asked.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t.”
Kord looked at Everan.
Essandra squeezed Cyrus’s arm. “Rest now. We’ll talk about all this later.” She nodded at Kord and Everan. They cast a wary glance at Cyrus before stepping out.
“Rest,” she told him again. She picked up a book on the side table and moved to the corner chair.
No part of him could rest. Rest only served to trap him in the confines of his mind, leaving him to wallow in the trenches of failure and regret. The only thing that kept him from collapsing in on himself was his vow of vengeance.
He’d killed Soroya—the person truly responsible for Orion’s death. And he knew taking on the guild was impossible. But whether something was possible or not didn’t matter. Focusing on what was possible didn’t bring any relief from the guilt and the rage. It didn’t mend what was broken.
Vengeance would. So vengeance he’d have.
Vengeance against the guild.
Vengeance against the Shadow King.
And for that, he had to plan.
“I’m going to tell her who I am,” he said.
Essandra lowered her book. “What?”
“Norah,” he said. “I’m going to tell her who I am.”
She set the book down. “Why would you do that?”
“If I’m to keep any trust at all, I need to be the one to tell her. The closer I stay to her, the closer I stay to the Shadow King.”
“She’s already pushed you away.”
“No.” He shook his head. “She pushed Alexander away. I need to come as myself now, as Cyrus. I’ll meet her as king of Rael.”
She rose from the chair, her mouth slightly open with unspoken questions and her brow stitched in worry. “You’re going to be honest with her?”
“How else is there to be?”
Essandra scoffed. “Once she finds out your intention against her husband, there will be no saving any trust with her. And the Shadow King won’t trust you either.”
Cyrus pushed himself up to sit. “Norah doesn’t know the man she married. She doesn’t know what he’s capable of. But she cares about people—I need to show her who he is.”
Essandra paused. Her gaze fell to the floor for a moment. “A woman overlooks a great deal when she loves a man.”
“The Shadow King is going to lose everything,” he said. “Norah will too, if she stays loyal to him.”
Her brow dipped further, and her voice dropped lower. “Why do you care?”
Cyrus paused. He reached out his arm for her. She stepped to him and slipped her hand into his, and he pulled her to him. “You don’t have to worry about her,” he promised. “Only you have my heart.”
She sighed and gave a small shake of her head. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m not actually worried about her. I trust you. I just don’t like it. What happens when the Shadow King finds out it’s been you haunting his queen? That it was you who first tried to kill her?”
“He’s going to find out eventually anyway.
So will Norah. If I’m to keep any connection with her at all, I need to be the one to tell her.
” His eyes moved to the stacks of books and parchments piled on the sideboard.
More sat on the floor, and even more by the chair she’d been sitting in.
“Have you been working in here? That can’t be convenient. ”
“It’s no trouble.”
His eyes traveled his room, and for the first time, he noticed jars of herbs, more parchments, more books, practically her whole workroom.
“Well, I couldn’t leave you by yourself.” She glanced down again. “And I…”
“Essandra,” he said softly.
“I guess I don’t want to be alone.” She shook her head. “I just… I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe she’s actually gone.”
Soroya.
“All this time, I’ve been running; all these years, I’ve been hiding.” She pushed out a breath. “I keep expecting her to suddenly appear, saying something like, did you really think you could kill me? ”
“I did,” he told her. “ We did.”
“I’ve been trying to make sure. I’ve been searching for any remnant of her power that still lives.”
“Have you found anything?”
She shook her head again.
He clasped her hands. “Hey,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
Her eyes met his.
“She’s dead,” he assured her. “You’re free.”
She still shuffled uneasily, glancing back at her books.
“Why can’t you believe it?” he asked.
“I just don’t know how you did it. No one in the coven has power like the power you used. You literally crushed her from the inside. The closest I can guess is that you somehow manipulated the geomancer power.”
He shrugged. “I used the power of the Aether.”
“That’s not how it works.” She rubbed her temples. “The Aether is a channel, an amplifier; it doesn’t grant new power of its own. What you did shouldn’t have been possible.”
“Essandra,” he said softly, and he pulled her close again. “She’s dead. Even if you can’t explain it, she’s dead. She’s not coming back.”
Her green eyes shifted nervously.
“She’s not coming back,” he said again. “Do you hear me?”
Slowly, she nodded.
“So now we move forward,” he told her. He brushed a lock of hair behind her shoulder. “Will you come with me to meet Norah?”
She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Then she nodded again.
Traveling to the stone circle was easier after so many times, or perhaps it was from his growing power. Cyrus could now take a group of men at a time. He still didn’t risk trying it without the bond. It might work with birds, but he wasn’t willing to gamble with lives.
They set up camp half a day’s ride outside the Mercian outer reaches. Sergen and Jaem secured horses, while Ram, Everan, and Kord ensured a safe perimeter.
Essandra watched as Cyrus penned the last of his words on the parchment before folding it and stamping his royal red seal of a sword. He held it out to Sergen. “Directly to the queen’s hand,” he said.
Sergen gave a short bow of his head. “Directly to her hand,” he repeated.
Cyrus held out a vial of his blood. “And let me know once you do.”
Sergen nodded again. “I will.” He mounted, tucking the letter safely into his jacket, and urged his horse north, toward Mercia.
Cyrus watched until he was out of sight. Then he turned to Essandra. “Now we wait,” he said.
Waiting was the hardest part. It had been a day and a half since Sergen had called him through the blood and told him he’d delivered the letter. He’d been treated kindly, but they hadn’t let him leave. Was Norah going to send him back with a letter?
Cyrus waited longer.
“What if she asks for peace?” Kord said as they sat around the campfire. The cold smoked their breath in the air. Essandra had used the power of her fire witch to warm them, but the heat from the flame still felt good against the skin.
“Mercia can have peace,” Cyrus replied.
“You know what I mean,” Kord said. “What if she wants that peace to include the Shadowlands?”
Cyrus frowned. “That’s not something I can give.”
“So, you’re going to ask her to side with you instead of her husband?”
“I think that when I show her who he is, I won’t have to.”
Kord ran a hand through his hair. “Cyrus, this is a different man from the one who took you. You’d be showing her things that have already changed.”
“Nothing’s changed!” Cyrus snapped. “Do you know what he did with the captured mercenaries after they retook the North?” He glanced at Essandra, then Everan, then back to Kord. “He sold them to Elam,” he told them. “ He is his father’s son. ”
“He won back her kingdom for her,” Kord countered.
“He won it back for himself. He needs Mercia beside him, because with Mercia comes Aleon.”
Kord sighed. But this was an argument Cyrus wouldn’t yield on.
By the second day, Sergen still hadn’t been released. He was still held in the castle.
Cyrus tapped another sealed letter he’d penned against the palm of his hand as he sat and mulled. What was taking her so long? Perhaps she was uncertain.
Essandra ducked into the tent and paused when she saw him. “You’re going to send another letter? We haven’t even received a reply yet.”
Cyrus straightened. “I’m going to offer to meet her in the outer reaches.”