Chapter Fifteen
The same measure you use with others will be measured with you.
Cyrus and I fell asleep tangled together. I used to wonder why so many couples risked everything simply to spend a few hours together. Now I got it. The warmth. The intimacy. Filling my lungs with Cyrus’s incredible scent. The companionship. The sense of safety and belonging. The aching.
“No,” Cyrus muttered, yanking me from a light, dreamy doze. “No!”
When his entire body jerked, I popped open my eyes. “Cyrus?” We were on our sides, with him behind me, curled around my body. I patted the hand resting on my stomach. “Everything okay?”
“No!” He flopped to his back, allowing me to twist around. His head thrashed over a pillow, the brand on his face much paler than his skin, the puckered flesh pulled taut.
A nightmare? “Hey, hey,” I cooed, gentle, so gentle, as I caressed his chest. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“Born . . . rule.” With a roar, he jerked upright and yanked on handfuls of his hair. “Can’t lose . . . won’t . . . mine!”
Can’t lose . . . the crown? “Wake up, Cyrus.”
In lieu of a response, he punched his temples, as if he attempted to dislodge his troublesome thoughts.
“Stop it!” Please. I latched onto his wrists, taking control of his arms. “Sugar, I need you to wake up, okay?”
He wrenched from my hold and sprang from the mattress to stalk forward. Overhead lights switched on automatically. To my dismay, he tried to walk through the door. When that failed, he punched. Wham, wham, wham.
I leaped up and over, putting myself between my sleepwalking boyfriend and the entrance.
There was no need to duck or dodge. Even in sleep, he was a protector, striking the door around me.
“Cyrus!” I shouted as he drew back his elbow, intending to launch another strike.
Blood dripped from torn knuckles. Desperate, I slapped him.
He went still and shook his head. Blinking rapidly, he lowered his arm.
Relief caught me up in a whirlwind. I petted his chest, cooing, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
His eyes found mine and narrowed. “What happened?”
“You had a bad dream and decided the bedroom door was enemy one.”
The color drained from his cheeks, and he gripped my shoulders. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not even a little. Come on.” I urged him back to the bed and applied pressure to ease him into a sitting position at the edge. “I’ll be right back.” I darted off to gather the first aid kit.
He said nothing as I cleaned and bandaged his abrasions. Though the medications must sting, he displayed no trace of unease.
“Do you remember anything?” I asked after finishing my task.
“I have a vague memory of fighting Felix and the other royals. Then you were ripped from my arms.”
Can’t lose . . . My ribs constricted. He’d referenced me, not the crown. “Only a dream,” I rasped, moving to clean the mess I’d created.
“Arden.” He grasped my wrist and tugged me onto his lap, sideways.
Understanding, I wound my arms around his shoulders. “It’s okay, baby.”
“Is it? There’s a residue of panic inside me.” Resting his cheek against my shoulder, he released a shuddering breath. “I don’t do panic.”
“I know,” I said, stroking his silken hair, certain Astan was at work here.
The god spearheaded CURED, and this gonna-lose-her fear struck me as a play straight from their handbook.
Get him all riled up, then offer him as the lone solution.
“Tell me about your brother.” Felix not only had a starring role in Cyrus’s dream, but the brothers had been in Theirland together during Cyrus’s episodes of memory loss.
Maybe speaking of him would jar something loose.
“You love him, but you don’t like him. Why? ”
Cyrus heaved a sigh. “He’s older by a year.
Our mothers hated each other, but our father insisted on spending time with us together.
We became friends. Played ball, laughed a lot, and cheered the other as he rose in rank.
Then a rogue glower killed his wife, and suddenly everything changed.
He changed. He puts on a good show in public, but in private it’s clear he lives only for revenge. ”
My brow furrowed. “Rogue glower isn’t a term I’d heard.”
“A Soalian who no longer follows Soal.”
Hmm. I hadn’t realized such people existed, though I guess I should have.
Domino materialized a few feet away, snatching my attention.
He wore his standard uniform, hood drawn down, and exuded determination and resolve.
“Big things are underway. Mr. Vyle is on his way here. He’ll ask you about your experience on the battlefield, among other things. You have eleven minutes.”
He didn’t wait for my response but disappeared, leaving me with frothing curiosity.
Big things? What big things?
“What’s wrong?” Cyrus demanded, sensing my upset.
“We have eleven minutes until Mr. Vyle arrives.”
He traced his tongue over straight, white teeth. “Domino told you this?”
“Yes.” I pressed a swift kiss to the hollow of his throat before bounding to my feet and urging him to his. Having never spent the night with a man, I fumbled for the proper protocols. When in doubt, go with polite. “Thank you for holding me. I had a wonderful time.”
He allowed the subject change, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Thank you for allowing me to hold you. I had a wonderful time as well.” Turning toward the bathroom, he casually stated, “I love you.”
“I lo—like you.”
Beyond the door, he called, “You love me.”
“Maybe.” An idea hit, and I swiped up the first aid kit before stalking to the other suite’s bathroom, the one I’d used in the past. I rushed through a shower, brushed my teeth, and braided my hair.
While naked in the stall, I opened the kit and withdrew the scissors. Though I trembled, I did it. I executed my idea, dragging the blade tips across my side, where I’d been shot. The sharp sting sucked, but I persevered, bandaged the wound, and dressed in clean fatigues.
When I emerged from the bedroom, I found a freshly showered, changed Cyrus waiting for me in the kitchen. He offered me a super-delicious fruit smoothie.
I was only halfway done with the tasty concoction when Mr. Vyle marched into the apartment as if he owned the place. He wore a suit and tie, not a single hair out of place, as usual. He was alone.
He took us in, standing side by side at the counter, and the slightest pulse of annoyance crossed his features. He’d hoped to find us asleep and at a disadvantage, I’d bet.
Guess I owed Domino. Again.
“Good morning, Mr. Vyle,” I said with a satisfied smile.
His eyelids slitted. “Good morning, Lady Roosa. High Prince Dolion.”
Cyrus took a drink of his smoothie before demanding, “Why are you here?”
“We must discuss what happened yesterday.” A command, not a suggestion.
“I have questions for you, so yes, we will discuss what happened yesterday.” Cyrus ushered me past our uninvited guest and into the living room. We settled on the couch, an obvious team.
Mr. Vyle unbuttoned his jacket and sank into the chair across from us. “I’ll start. I’ve spoken with several soldiers, and many claim they saw someone shoot Arden at close range from behind.”
“What are you implying?” Cyrus asked casually. “That she miraculously healed?”
A nervous laugh bubbled up and would have escaped if a comforting tide hadn’t swept along my bond with Domino, quashing it. A sensation as welcome as it was disquieting.
“I’m implying nothing.” Mr. Vyle waved in my direction. “I’d like to hear Lady Roosa’s side of the story.”
Here goes. “As Cyrus already told you, a bullet grazed me. Not from behind but from the front.” I clicked my tongue. “Before I fell, I spotted High Princess Lolli with a smoking gun aimed straight at me.”
Mr. Vyle thought for a moment. “Show me your wound.”
“That isn’t happening,” Cyrus grated. “My girlfriend isn’t showing you any part of her body, ever. I have seen the wound. Either the word of a royal is sufficient, or it isn’t.”
I placed a hand on his and offered him my sweetest smile. “It’s fine. I’ll show him. I don’t mind.”
He blinked. Compressed his lips. Threw a thousand curses at me without uttering a word. Nodded stiffly.
I lifted the corner of my shirt, revealing the bloodied bandage, which I removed and tossed on the coffee table between us. “Happy? It opened in the shower, and I cleaned it up as best I could.” Find the lie in that, bud.
Mr. Vyle couldn’t mask his irritation. “You require tending. I’ll send a medic—”
“I’ll take care of her.” Cyrus tapped a finger against the arm of the couch and changed the subject as if nothing more needed to be discussed regarding the shooting. “What’s the outcome of last night’s excursion?”
Fury flashed in the executioner’s eyes, there and gone. “Things went exactly as we hoped. Glowers arrived en masse, but they couldn’t bypass our barriers and reclaim the field. They are still trying. Feeders are flooding in from all over the realm to attack, doing our work for us.”
The field where fruit—the Rock—grew. “I noticed the barrier but couldn’t see it.”
Though he didn’t look as if he wished to address me, his need to gloat got the better of him, and he said, “That’s because it emits a frequency that can be disarmed only one way.”
Mr. Vyle said no more, and I barely stopped myself from probing further. I needed to be careful. Already he suspected me of aiding the enemy.
Cyrus drummed his fingers against the arm of the couch. “Explain why I wasn’t told of this plan or the creation of this frequency.”
“Let me be blunt, Your Highness.” Mr. Vyle put his nose in the air. “Your girlfriend has been under investigation as a potential traitor.”
“And now?” he demanded.
“We have cleared her.”
Surprise intermingled with relief. Though I could guess the reason. I hadn’t reacted to the smoke. Gratitude joined my mix of emotions. Another reason I owed Domino.
“Today, we will be—” A buzz blasted over the intercom, quieting Mr. Vyle.