42. Kyros
Chapter forty-two
Kyros
Thunder rolls in the distance as giant raindrops begin to pelt the beveled windows of the castle's throne room; a foreboding cloud of dread matching the feel within these darkened walls.
Every muscle in my body is taut with an unnatural rigidity, even for me.
All the while, Shayd forces a closed-lipped smile at guests as they begin pouring through the doors.
This is it.
“Well, this is quite the spectacle,” Shayd says, disdain coating the last word, as he stands at my side.
Though his arms are tucked behind him in a stance that says ease, I don’t miss how he refuses to give me his back, and by doing so, it gives him ample view of the large room.
I was so blind with loyalty for these people before, I never noticed how much they had to tell with just their body language alone.
Or perhaps that’s only altered now that they have noticed a change in me.
No longer confident in their manipulative ways now that they know I’ve caught on.
He was unable to contain his anger when I let him know what this gathering was for tonight.
Well, the pieces of what I decided to divulge about my plans for the night anyway.
He’s smart enough to know the kind of man he’s talking to and didn’t speak outright of his disapproval.
His eyes said enough that he didn’t have to.
“So it is.” My words are a grumble through clenched teeth.
I’m only entertaining him while I bide my time.
My first order as King of Diemos will be making sure that he is taken to its dungeons, where he will be the first to meet the monster they created.
I try to keep my focus solely on watching the throne room doors—for the people who matter most to walk through.
Waiting for her to come to her rightful place at my side instead of the bastard who stands here now.
Viltarin and Rowan were tasked with preparing the guards.
They know to select only those that would be swayed to our side.
Luckily for us, that includes many of the men Phaedra left here to protect her castle in her absence.
Those who were most loyal to her remained at her side like the pets they are.
Ruaan didn’t need any convincing and was eager to join in, especially with the potential for violence looming.
He pledged on his kingdom's behalf to support my claim on the Diemos throne. Even Kellan asked to be suited for our purpose, but with the wounds he’s still healing from, he would be better use to me continuing to learn any information he can in the library.
That also gives me a reason to ensure Beckett is somewhere safe and out of the line of danger if an attack happens.
“What are you trying to prove by having a banquet in the throne room? This isn’t you, Kyros.
” A flare of anger shines in Shayd’s eyes as he hisses the words through his teeth.
Keeping my lips tight, I slowly move my gaze away from the flow of people and train it on him.
As soon as he is all I can see, I watch as his jaw twitches, his eyes flicking between mine with a wrinkle creasing between his brows.
He’s older than me. Not quite as old as Phaedra, but old enough to be a man I looked up to like an older brother.
At one point in my life I may have even considered him just that.
Now, all I see is the deception he crafted.
Just as I’m about to answer, I feel the flame in my chest flare.
The heat is instant and captivating, and any thought I had about Shayd falls abandoned.
I swallow as I train my eyes back the door, waiting for who I know is about to walk through it.
It’s been like this before, but since we have both claimed the bond, it’s becoming something more.
I can sense her as she's getting closer; feel her flame add to my own, and it makes me understand a little more what I did when I killed Leoric. What Karnnen had said about his brothers’ twin flame feeling the magick of their bond extinguish like cold water dousing a fire.
I can imagine now that it would be something so much more painful than a dousing of cold water.
It would be like ripping my heart from my chest only to make me watch it beat for the last time.
It makes me wonder what else might change with the bond.
I feel like I’ve read something about the twin flame bonds and how on rare occasions they have been blessed by the divine with special abilities.
It’s a question for another time because I see a flash of red hair, and my heart rate ticks up to a rapturous rhythm with the anticipation of being lost in the field of scorpion grass flowers that is sure to follow in her eyes.
If Colette is here, then so too is Astraea.
“Kyros! You need to call this off.” Shayd grinds out, “You don’t understand what you’re doing.” He warns just as harshly. The muscle in my jaw ticks as I ignore the way his gaze drills into the side of my head.
“No, I know exactly what I’m doing.” I say under my breath as the string instruments playing along the back wall seem to get louder.
The music drowns out his words and silences whatever the man at my side may have said in response.
I guess that’s lucky for him, as he is damn close to losing his ability to speak altogether after I rip his tongue from his mouth.
The room otherwise becomes a blur as the bodies blocking my view of the door divide.
My vision becomes completely tunnelled and narrowed on one thing. Her.
My twin flame; just the sight of her consumes me, bringing me to the brink of ruin.
I am a moth, and she is the flame drawing me in. My very own Shula Morana. The only flame I would gladly welcome death by.
My Queen.
Eyes as bright as the Diemos summer blue moon, ringed in light and basically glowing, Astraea’s gaze finds mine. My lips part as my breath catches in my throat. She is stunning. Everything about her—and she’s mine.
Shayd continues cursing something, but I pay him no attention.
No, my feet carry me down the stairs of the dais as she finally enters the room.
With each step closer, my need for her only grows.
Need for my hands to be on her, for my lips to brush over hers, and to taste the little gasps she gives me all while being enveloped with her scent.
Every person in the throne room has eyes on her.
They too are seeing what has a wicked man such as me so ensnared.
They say that love is a weakness, but that can’t be true.
When I look at her—when she looks at me the way she is now—I only feel power.
The power of my love for this woman knows no bounds.
It could end worlds; sever the very thread that the gods use to weave the tapestry of life itself.
I am the darkness in her shadow. The fury in her fire.
And yet, her love is everything I covet.
“You wore the dress.” I say, stopping so close that her head is forced to tip all the way back to meet my eye as I look down at her.
My hand comes up slowly, gently tracing the line of her jaw, and I watch as those thick dark lashes that frame those mesmerizing eyes flutter at the hovering touch of my fingertips.
She wraps her hand around my wrist, pressing my palm to her cheek, and leans into it.
Heat floods my veins at the small sentiment.
“They won’t take anything else from me.” She says reverently, repeating my earlier words. My lips curl up at the corner in response to her declaration.
“My Shula,” I whisper as I lean in, tucking a piece of loose ebony hair behind her ear.
My smile only grows when I watch her skin pebble and I chuckle into the subtle softness just below her ear.
When a throat clears from somewhere not far off, I remember we aren’t alone.
Though I don’t quickly put space between us.
As far as I’m concerned, anyone who has a problem with me greeting my betrothed can see themselves out.
Finally allowing a sliver of space to come between our bodies, I let my eyes trail the length of her in the dress I chose. I don't make it far before a smile creeps over my face as I take notice of the adornment that she's added to the bodice.
“You wore your blades?” My eyes dance over the Tsalarian steel and back to her eyes.
“I felt it appropriate—given the circumstances.” She whispers, almost nervously. Perhaps waiting for disapproval that will never come.
“MMmmm,” I growl in approval. I will always approve of her having the means to protect herself.
As I have told every person who has ever trained with me, you should never rely solely on your magick; you never know when you might be without it.
The same goes for her, and I know firsthand how it feels now to be without my magick.
The clearing of a throat sounds again, this time a little louder, more clearly intending to interrupt.
“Apologies, Lord Kyros, the feast is ready.” I ignore whoever it is that tries to pull my attention from Astraea.
I’m not yet ready to acknowledge the rest of the people in the room, and I step in even closer to my soon-to-be wife.
She is all I want to see. I take her hand, bring it to my mouth, and brush my lips across her knuckles.
A collective gasp fills the room as I drop to one knee.
I breathe her in, paying attention to every part of her: the rounding of her eyes, the pulse growing more frenzied just below the skin on her neck, and her chest that is rigid as she holds air prisoner in her lungs.