Chapter Seventeen
I’m looking for people willing to do the necessary work and rise in the ranks of the kingdom; apply within.
Tick tock. Tick tock.
My internal countdown made itself known, screeching at full volume as I considered our options. Or rather, option. Find that key and sneak to the field. If it hurt to open the door, fine. It hurt. I’d do it and I’d deal.
But first we needed to discover what, exactly, that key was. “Introduce me to your grandfather,” I said as wind lifted my hair.
Cyrus arched a brow. “You hope to interrogate the ruler of our world?”
“I do.”
To his credit, he didn’t blanch. “Will you be subtle with your questions?”
Okay, so, I might have been a tad overzealous during my previous interrogations. The very interrogations Mr. Vyle had referenced during our first interaction. A time I’d rapid-fired forbidden questions at CURED’s most illustrious leaders. “I promise I’ll try my very best.”
He sighed. “I’ll set something up.”
As other royals and trainees stepped out onto their balconies, Cyrus linked our fingers and backtracked, pulling me into our room. The door shut of its own accord, and his shoulders rolled in.
He released me and muttered, “We are losing this war.”
No. No! That was Astan’s influence. It must be. “We’re still breathing, Cyrus. We haven’t lost anything.”
He stalked to a wet bar and poured himself a drink. After downing it, he poured another and downed it too. “Would you like one?” he asked with a flat timbre.
“No, thank you.” I’d tried a coworker’s home brew a year ago, and I’d hated how out of control I’d felt.
Cyrus poured a third glass, lifted it, set it down. Lifted it. Set it down. Gripping the edges of the bar, he bowed his head.
Desperate to give comfort, I closed the distance and wrapped my arms around him from behind. With my palms flat on his torso, I rested my cheek between his shoulders, suddenly overcome with tenderness. His ambrosial scent saturated the air, turning every breath into my favorite dream.
Few people got to witness his vulnerability. Only those he trusted. A small circle that consisted of me, myself, and I. My troubles were forgotten as I sought to absorb his. “Look at me, Cyrus.”
For several long moments, he remained as he was, tense and silent.
“Please.”
Slowly he turned, as if he couldn’t resist my plea.
I didn’t release him or ease back but pressed closer, letting my weight settle against his powerful body.
Our gazes held as I tipped up my face. As we melted into each other.
As I conformed my shape to his, enjoying every ache and pang that ignited.
The most delicious heat spread to my limbs.
Every inhalation came with a side of intoxication. This sensation I liked.
“You aren’t in this alone.” I traced my fingers up his arms and over his shoulders to rest them upon his nape.
“Stop trying to carry everything on your own. It’s weighing you down.
We aren’t without hope. We have each other and Domino.
Whether you like him or not, he’s an asset.
We have our books. Ember and her crew. A purpose and a mission. ”
A moment passed before he gave me a small but sweet smile. “I like this side of you. The warrior spirit I noticed your first day at Fort Bala.”
His husky voice acted as embers and smoke, curling through my senses. “Is there another side of me you like?” There might have been smoke in my voice too. “Perhaps a softer side?”
His eyelids sank low. “I very much like your softer side.” He set a hand on my hip, between the gap left by my shirt and pants, and the instant sear of skin against skin unraveled me from the inside out. “Do you remember when I said I wouldn’t kiss you while you’re connected to the librarian?”
My heart raced toward him, no finish line in sight, only the endless pull of his presence. “Mmm. I’m still pouting about it.”
He slowly bent his head, stopping when his lips hovered directly over mine. I breathed his air, and he breathed mine, and it was the hottest moment of my life.
“I’ve changed my mind.” He swooped in, pressing his lips against mine.
I opened, greeting his tongue with my own. A moan slipped out. He was pleasure itself, and I sipped at the well, savoring every second. We continued tasting each other, slowly at first, but soon the tempo increased. With it, the pressure inside me intensified, and I strained toward him.
We’d kissed before, but this was different.
Something deeper and sweeter. A quiet storm of fire and silk.
Intimacy able to steal my breath, with a fierceness that set my skin alight.
And yet, beneath the longing, there was something else.
A tremor of desperation. A whisper of fear .
. . Perhaps a bite of recklessness and ruination.
He spun us both around, pinning me against the bar. A single kick of his foot widened my legs, allowing him to push a leg between mine. Thoughts whirled, soon fragmenting, dissolving, and evaporating. Threading his fingers in my hair, he tipped me off balance, forcing me to rely on him.
I pulled at his shirt with grasping hands. Barely pausing the kiss, he ripped the material over his head. His tattooed pectorals drew my palms like magnets. I caressed his ribs. His lower stomach.
He hefted me onto the bar, then stepped between my legs again.
Still the kiss continued, deepening. I needed more of him.
Wanted everything he had to give. But. A tugging sensation.
Slight. Noticeable. It erupted in my deepest depths, and for a moment, I was certain I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That I should be . . . with Domino.
Perplexed and appalled, I wrenched from the kiss. I did not just think that.
Expression hardening, Cyrus backed up several steps and blustered his next breath. “You feel him.” A hard statement, not a question.
Guilt and shame flared. “I think he needs to tell me something.”
Domino appeared beside Cyrus a heartbeat later, ending the conversation. He glanced between us and pressed his lips into a firm line. “Ask him to show you the tome.”
My brows drew together. “You have a tome here?” I asked Cyrus. What kind? Soal’s books never left the library.
Cyrus’s brows drew together too. “No, I—” He blinked, shook his head. “I do. I remember now.”
He stalked off and returned a few minutes later, wearing a shirt and holding a thick, ancient-looking book. A small, oily shadow slithered around it, and I recoiled, instantly anxious. But calm washed over me, just as it had done earlier, chasing away the anxiety.
“My grandfather has a library similar to Soal’s, and he gave me this,” Cyrus said, leading us into the living room.
He settled on the couch, and I claimed the chair across from him, allowing Domino to stand at my side.
“I think . . . I think this is one of the reasons I lost my memories. I blacked out every time I opened it.”
“That is a history told by a Soalian scribe who lived long ago, but as you can see, Astan attempts to distort the story,” the librarian said.
“Read it,” he instructed me, and I vehemently shook my head in denial.
Black out? No, thank you. “You are connected to me, the contents unable to ensnare you as they did Cyrus.”
Fine. I reluctantly requested the book, which Cyrus slid across the coffee table between us. The moment I brushed my fingers over the cover, the shadow broke apart, evaporating, as if afraid to face me. Good, that was good. Perhaps I had more power than I’d realized.
The absence of the dark haze revealed striking leather decorated with mesmerizing swirls of gold. I set the heavy tome on my lap, took a calming breath, and cracked the spine.
“You can read it?” Cyrus asked, curious.
“Yes. The title page calls this The Rise of Harmonies.”
When I gently flipped the thick, yellowed page, I came to a hand-painted picture of a gorgeous, familiar man with a mop of curls and white wings tipped in gold. He wore jewel-studded armor.
“That is Astan,” Domino said. “Among the ancients, he’s known as Eos. Enemy of Soal.”
I’d heard the term before, though not its meaning. I’d been told Eos was the technical name for the Madness.
I examined every detail. Something was diff— “He’s without horns!”
“Correct. Those grew after his affair with Briar Rose began.”
As he spoke, bowed horns grew over Astan’s image on the page. “Why only then?”
“When a heart is changed, the body follows,” Domino replied.
Beside me, Cyrus made a frustrated noise, and I gave him a reassuring smile.
“I’m only seeing illustrations so far.” The next page offered another hand-painted picture.
This one of the exquisite woman I’d seen in Ember’s class.
Flower petals clung to her curves. From her fingertips grew curling vines blooming with lush, green leaves and ruby-red fruit.
“Briar Rose, now Astan’s wife.” Domino flicked his gaze to Cyrus, who watched me with a hard stare. “She’s a grower, able to produce seeds. Flowers. Trees. Fruit.”
That statement yanked my attention back to the book. “I’m a grower too,” I rasped, dots connecting. I flinched. “She’s chosen me, hasn’t she?”
Domino didn’t respond to my question. “When she aligned with Astan, her seeds became tainted, the same as her heart.”
The next series of pages showcased paintings of Bala, Astan’s pet dragon, who was far more ferocious than expected, with glittering emerald scales and eyes as bright as rubies. Those teeth . . . that spiked tail . . .
Then came Astan’s most trusted council and guards. Finally, I reached text.
There were no symbols, no code. Nervous, I read the first line.
Once upon a time, there existed a kingdom ruled by the most beautiful and powerful of creatures, where power danced in the air like stardust. Allow me to take you there . . .
Black dots wove through my vision, and I caught myself tilting forward.