Chapter Twenty-Eight
Your war isn’t with flesh and blood but with the spirits within them.
“Real fun,” I echoed hollowly. “We’re prisoners, Victors.”
He frowned, as if disappointed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Miss Roosa. We’re nothing of the sort.”
I didn’t have the strength to match wits with him. I tried to catch my breath as I examined my wound. Not a kill shot, exactly as Roman had claimed, but it hurt. Still, his death hurt more. I hated what he’d done, but I hadn’t wanted him dead.
“I’d offer to help you with the doctoring, but my vivisection says no.
” With a sunny smile, Victors motioned to the bandage peeking out from the neckline of his shirt.
The lightness in his eyes provided a shocking contrast to our miserable dungeon, our abysmal situation, and the barbarity inflicted upon him.
“How were you recaptured?” I asked, opening the first aid kit.
“Oh. That. I turned myself in again.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. “Why would you do such a thing?” Especially after all he’d already suffered.
“For starters, I didn’t want to miss the big finale. Also, I thought it might be nice to take a beat and prepare you. The worst is still to come, my dear.”
I flinched and muttered, “We are living in a horror novel.” I needed as much strength as I could muster, as fast as I could muster it.
Hands shaking, I withdrew the disinfectant.
No painkiller. Better to maintain my wits right now.
As I squirted the cold liquid directly into my wound, I struggled to silence my scream.
The sting! I could only breathe through it, waiting for black dots to stop flashing.
When I could see again, I applied the healing gel, then a butterfly bandage to seal the sides of broken skin together.
Deep breath in. Out. In, out. Okay, the worst was over, at least.
“Have you forgotten The Book of Arden is a romance?” Victors asked. “Give it time.”
“Romances are supposed to end with the bad guys defeated and the couple headed for a bright future. It’s science. Look it up.” My shoulders rolled in. “I can’t see a way we can recover from this.”
“That’s too bad. The you I see has learned from her mistakes and is making better decisions, heading for a better destination.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong about that. I had learned from my mistakes. If I could go back, I would avoid Cyrus on the battlefield, exactly as ordered, trusting my fellow glowers to aid him.
Where would we be today if I’d listened? Here, now, we’d accomplished our goal, yes. Cyrus wasn’t just king; he was emperor. But at what cost?
Bonding to Domino had been the beginning of the end for my relationship with the high prince.
I’d helped save our lives, but I’d also changed both our destinies.
While part of me wanted to resent the librarian, I couldn’t bring myself to regret our dealings.
But now, we were all on a train speeding along the tracks, no longer able to brake.
“I’d argue the use of the word better,” I muttered.
“And that’s your problem,” Victors said. “You are focusing on the moment rather than the end.”
“This is the end.”
“So shortsighted,” he tsked. “Do you really think I’d be here without a foolproof plan to save you?”
“Why do you even care?” I muttered. “I’m one person.”
“Ah, but you’re our person.”
Anger flared. “Cyrus is—was—our person, too, yet here we are,” I griped. “He’s possessed, and the war is raging.”
“I hear blame in your voice. You know nothing of what we’ve done for him,” Victors snapped with an unexpected anger of his own.
“Nothing I’ve done. Did he share with you the messages I brought?
The warnings Ember and others delivered?
Tell you of his meeting with Soal? Explain the whole story he read? ”
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and shook my head. I’d had no idea Victors visited him. No idea Cyrus met with Soal himself.
“No one but Cyrus is responsible for his choices. Not even you, Arden. You accept that, I hope.”
“I do,” I said and sighed. The new emperor of Ourland was as much a free moral agent as I was. “And I don’t.”
Victors tsked again. “Careful, my dear. A little drop of doubt poisons the entire glass of water.”
I pursed my lips. “How very Victors of you. Cryptic responses have always been your specialty.”
“Thank you,” he said and grinned.
“That wasn’t a compliment.” Frustration uncoiled, wrapping around me.
My chin trembled. The shock of it all was fading, leaving me with emotions I wasn’t ready to deal with and certainties I didn’t like or have any idea how to change.
“Soal imprisoned Astan before. He should be able to do it again.” Thereby freeing Cyrus.
“Tsuri imprisoned the gods.”
Hold up. “Tsuri became the Rock after bringing Briar Rose back to life. How did he create the prisons?”
Victors didn’t explain. “Reimprisonment isn’t the way forward. Total annihilation is. The time has come. We’re finally ready.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. Where did this leave Cyrus?
“Good news is, Astan isn’t all powerful. None of them are. Though they abide in their hosts, they require constant anchors and total agreement.”
“Say more. Please,” I added.
“Emotions act as a sealant. Astan specializes in fear, greed, and pride, as you’ve noted. Root those from Cyrus, and the god will lose his stronghold. Cyrus can eject him.”
His words reverberated. Before I’d come into his life, Cyrus had been fear-free. What if I’d shared the fruit of my anxiety with him?
I thought back to the moment trepidation had first reared its ugly head.
The train car ride to Fort Bala. It had overwhelmed me, almost palpable and worse than any other distress I’d ever felt, almost as if I’d tapped into a rushing vein.
Rather than fight it, I’d buried it for study later, allowing it to grow.
I leaned forward, closing my eyes and resting my head in my upraised palms. Had Astan targeted me even then, his sights set on using me to bring down Cyrus?
Flash. I saw the shadow that had risen from the body of Tagin Dolion seconds after his death.
How we’d stared each other down for several beats.
Maybe the plan to win Cyrus over was born in that moment.
Maybe even before it. Either way, I’d played right into his hands, sticking my head in the sands of “later” rather than facing my enemy head-on right from the start, giving him time to establish roots.
“Now, now. None of that,” Victors said, guessing my thoughts. “No need to get down. Even when you make a wrong turn, there’s always a way to get where you need to be.”
I really, really hoped so. “How far in the future have you read?”
Another grin spread, there and gone. “Past the climax, all the way to the ending celebration of victory. It’s glorious, I promise you. The comeback story of all comeback stories. That’s the theme, in case you were wondering.”
Good to know. “Do we all survive?”
“There will be casualties. In war, there always are.”
Figured. “So what are the tropes of this comeback story, hmm?”
His eyes glittered with humor. “Those are up to you.”
Fair enough.
Footsteps rose above the moans and groans echoing all around us, reaching my ears. An ambrosial scent hit next, sparking as much dread as anticipation. Cyrus.
I sat up straighter as he and an army of armed guards entered my vantage point. His intense, star-studded stare promised the worst had yet to come. Before, I might have withered. But this was Astan, not Cyrus, and I wouldn’t cow to my enemy, giving him what he craved.
He’d changed again, now sporting a sleek black suit and tie. He looked good, but I recognized a weapon when I spied one.
I didn’t bother rising when he stopped at the barred door. “Guess you figured out what to do with me.”
“I have,” he confirmed. He dropped his gaze to my side, where the bloodstained hem of my shirt had gotten trapped in the corner of the bandage. Though he stiffened, he commented not. Rather, he turned his attention to Victors. “Enjoying your stay, old friend?”
“Honestly? Yes. I didn’t turn myself in for nothing.” Victors flashed his most guileless grin. “The more you swagger about, the closer we come to the final chapter in The Book of Astan. It’s a tragedy.”
Cyrus brushed invisible lint from his sleeve. “Soal made a mistake, basing his victory upon the integrity of his word. His precious truth. If only one detail in his book is altered, he loses everything.”
I tried to make sense of what I’d just heard. Was he implying the crux of the entire war between CURED and Soal boiled down to Astan making Soal a liar? But that made no sense. Unless there was something at play I wasn’t seeing.
Victors laughed so hard, he coughed. Though he clutched at his wound, he didn’t stop laughing. “You think . . . mistake . . . you . . .”
He was still chortling when a glowering Cyrus dragged his narrowed gaze to me. “Come.” He shoved the command past clenched teeth. “There’s something we must do.”
My heart blipped, but I masked it with a smile as irreverent as Victors’s merriment. “Sure thing. I’d love another opportunity to defy you.”
He worked his jaw, clearly not used to such insubordination from me.
A guard rushed over and opened the cage. I could have resisted when Cyrus closed in and hauled me to my feet, but why risk opening my wound? Also, I was determined. And curious. What did he have in store for me?
“I suggest you behave and walk behind me like a good little girl.” He smoothed the wrinkles from my clothes before striding from the cell.
With a final glance at Victors, who winked, buoying my spirits, I followed Cyrus through multiple corridors, up two staircases, and into a large, opulent chamber.
“The emperor’s chamber,” Cyrus stated without emotion. “Mine now.”