Chapter Twenty-Three
Foolishness is revealed with a quick temper; it is when you control your emotions that you master the circumstances too.
The door opened with a whoosh. Cyrus stomped inside, glowering. But he took one look at me and evinced only concern. “What’s wrong?” He stalked over, crouched in front of my chair, and cupped my cheeks, searching my eyes.
“I might stab you,” I admitted, miserable. “And also, Lolli and your grandfather told the truth.” The raggedness of my voice scraped my ears. “Felix shot me. He’s a Soalian whose motives are still unknown.”
Rage iced every inch of Cyrus, and he jerked to his full height. “I’ll kill him.”
“You don’t have permission from the emperor.” Or Soal. “You’ll be disqualified and never become king. And did you miss the part about me possibly stabbing you?”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “I have permission. And I’m not worried about what you’ll do.”
Okay, I’d definitely be asking more about that permission. But first, I clasped his hand and peered up at him through my thick fan of lashes. “Felix has decided to end your life instead of mine.”
Cyrus worked his jaw. “He won’t succeed. But he will pay.” The rage deepened as he helped me stand. “We should go back.”
“Yes.” We’d go back and think. Plan. “What did you read in your book? Anything about agreeing to pretend to be stabbed by me?”
“Nothing.” Flat tone, flatter expression. “The text remained coded.”
Because he’d feared what he would read? Seeking confirmation, I darted my gaze to and from Domino, who watched us with obvious pity.
“Tell me Ember is racer ready, at least,” I requested with a tremor.
“She’s better every day and almost operating at full strength.” A muscle beneath his eye jumped. “We discussed what I’d read in my book previously.” Turning his palm into mine, Cyrus moved his grip to my wrist, squeezing tight, as if he suspected I might bolt.
“You mean the part about losing me?” Unease settled between us, an invisible blockade neither of us could breach.
Lids lowered to slits, he offered a clipped incline of his chin.
I wondered . . . Did Ember and Soal attempt to protect him from what I might do? Did they fight to save his life? Maybe at some point I was driven to insanity?
Domino unfolded to his feet.
Cyrus scowled at him. “Don’t even think about telling me to let this go. And I don’t want to hear knowledge of the ages from The Book of Soal, either. We’re leaving.”
“I have no intention of offering you advice. Wisdom isn’t for fools.”
The librarian’s gentle rebuke told me three things. He’d expected this, had prepared for it, and could not be intimidated. He wasn’t afraid of what was to come, his trust in Soal unshakable.
Strung taut, Cyrus opened his mouth, as if he meant to shout or snarl, only to go quiet.
I looked between the two men. The ferocious pull from both made me feel as if I were a knotted rope trapped in a brutal game of tug-of-war.
In the end, I allowed Cyrus to usher me to the transparent wall. I cast a glance over my shoulder. The librarian watched me, his quiet demeanor inviting me back into his orbit of peace.
Words rushed along my tongue, but they died before being spoken. I had a thousand things to say, yet I understood none of them. Better to remain quiet.
The emperor and Winslet were no longer visible through the rift. Unfortunately, a meta now patrolled in the room.
“Are you able to provide us with cover again?” I asked Domino, not letting myself steal a second glance.
“I am.” He strode over and flattened his palms against the wall. “Go.”
My eyes widened as his body turned to white mist, which absorbed into the wall, went through the rift, and filled the palace room. I’d known the fog came from him, but I hadn’t known the fog was him. That he was the one who enveloped me. But how . . . ?
Cyrus urged me through the wall, the rift, and into the room. The fog wrapped around us, a warm embrace in a cold world.
He opened the door, the dog unaware. Though the number of guards had tripled in the hallway, we exited without notice. As we strode along the hallways, Domino remained with us. The closer we came to our suite, the faster Cyrus walked, until he stormed forward. I almost couldn’t keep up.
When we reached the sitting area connected to the royals’ suites, Domino’s fog released us and drew back. A chill infiltrated my very being, magnifying when a meta approached us, its red eyes flickering.
“G-good boy,” I said when it stopped nearby, watching me specifically.
“Go to our room and stay there.” Cyrus released my hand and stalked to Felix’s door. He didn’t bother knocking, just shouldered his way in.
Stay here? Ha! I raced after him, skirting the meta and catching up as Cyrus yanked a sleeping, suit-clad Felix from bed and tossed him across the room. The high prince crashed into the wall, waking as he slid to the floor.
A warrior to his core, Felix scrambled to his feet, two daggers already in hand. “Well, I don’t have to wonder what this is about,” he quipped, not the least bit repentant. “Only how you found out.”
The dog stopped at my side, recording the interaction. I froze.
“You shot Arden,” Cyrus said anyway. Slow and measured, he removed his jacket and draped the material from a knob on the dresser. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the tattoos on his forearms, utterly unbothered by the other man’s weapons and his lack thereof.
“I tried to do you a favor, brother. She’s ruination with a pretty face.
Paid by Grandfather, commanded by Astan.
Reporting your every move. You’re too enamored to see it.
” Bitterness coated the statement. “Trust me, I’ve been there, and I was forced to take care of the problem in a way I will never forget. ”
Puzzle pieces clicked. His wife must have been a CURED plant, and he was the rogue glower who’d killed her.
Probably after he’d discovered the truth.
To cover his actions, he blamed another.
Truth that wasn’t the truth. Maybe before her death his wife had turned him in for being Soalian, and he’d gone through some kind of “treatment.” Maybe not.
But I’d bet his thirst for revenge wasn’t directed at Soal but CURED.
“Arden is mine and of no concern to you,” Cyrus stated.
“But you are a concern to me, brother. I have a goal, you see, and you play a part in it,” Felix said, twirling his daggers. “Anyone who gets in my way will suffer, even you.”
“Hey! There’s no reason for violence,” I interjected. “Sounds like you both want the same thing. And neither of you wish to be disqualified from becoming king, right?”
Cyrus jutted his chin. “I told you. I have permission to take out anyone who threatens my life.”
“As do I,” Felix grated.
A heartbeat later, it was too late to intercede. They launched at each other, the battle savage. Felix slashed at Cyrus, who parried and confiscated a dagger, then followed the disarming with a vicious punch to the face.
The high prince grunted as blood spurted from his nose, but the injury didn’t slow him down. Between slashing at each other, they punched, kicked, and elbowed, grappling over the bed, throughout the space, and into the living room. No part of their bodies was excluded from the abuse.
The dog watched, never intervening.
Wounds abounded and furniture broke. Neither man showed mercy. At this rate, they would both die.
Unsure of what else to do, I went low and swiped my leg out, sweeping Felix off his feet.
As he fell, I threw myself between the combatants, holding Cyrus back with an arm extended.
He could’ve easily knocked me aside and resumed the battle, but he stood in place, glaring down at his opponent, a predator with his sights on tasty prey.
He was panting. So was I. Blood leaked from a gash on his brow, bruises already forming along his jaw.
A bleeding Felix vaulted to his feet as Lolli and Summit rushed into the room. Like us, they still wore their formal wear. They were rumpled, as if they’d just woken up.
She looked between the fighters and smiled, as if she’d just won an award. “You struck at each other. You’re disqualified.”
I fisted my hands, tempted to take a swing. Wasn’t like I was in the running for king.
“I have permission,” the brothers snapped in unison, and Lolli paled.
The high princess sputtered, unable to form words. When she collected herself, she faced Summit, demanding, “Do you have permission to strike at us?”
The usually amused good-time guy bared his teeth and shook his head. “I have the opposite.”
So. Only Felix and Cyrus. Had the emperor expected the pair to come to blows? Did he know more than we’d realized?
“I’m not finished with you,” Cyrus snapped at Felix before clasping my hand and leading me out.
“Same, brother,” Felix called.
The meta followed us as we marched out, but Cyrus shut our bedroom door in its face, keeping it out.
I led the high prince to the living room couch and rushed to collect the first aid kit.
When I returned, I found him reclined where I’d left him, staring up at the ceiling.
He stopped me as I began cleaning the gash on his brow.
“I’ll do this,” he said, his tone deadened. “You should prepare for the day. We spent most of the night in the library.”
Pang. “We should talk about what happened.”
“And we will. Later.”
“Let me hold you, then.” Please. He’d never needed comfort more.
“Later,” he repeated. “I’m not currently at my best.” He kissed my cheek, rose, and strode off, closing himself inside one of two sleeping units designed for couples who preferred to sleep alone in case the other broke with Madness.
I sat there for a long while, feeling more and more hollowed out from the inside. Which didn’t do anyone any good. There were passages from my books to unravel.
Determined, I headed to the other room, stripped in the private bathroom, and stepped into the shower stall. Warm water rained over me, and I moaned. I’d needed this.