Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Cyrus
Idon’t drink. Wine, whiskey, mead, and ale have never been able to dull my senses. The taste never seems to please me, either. I find it quite pointless to pour myself a drop.
But this night is different.
I’m four knuckles deep into the strongest whiskey we have in the study.
Leaning back into my tufted armchair, I stare out past my perched boots on the matching ottoman, out toward the delicately curved sets of windows looking out at the Serahaven mountains.
Despite the warming weather and gardens exploding in colorful blossoms, snow still dusts the jagged peaks beyond the castle’s reach.
Which only means when the snowmelt comes in the summer, it’ll increase the waterfalls framing the mountain range around us and raise the lake at the base.
I’ll have to have my soldiers work now to build up barriers to protect the castle grounds.
Previously I’ve been able to redirect the water myself in years of severe flooding.
But my council has advised I need to be mindful of how much magic I tap into. Now more than ever.
A knock at the door behind me disrupts my distant thoughts, and I inch up off the chair. “Yes, come in.”
Heavy footsteps sound in a pattern I’m all too familiar with.
Devin–my General. His skill and knowledge nearly precede mine, and at my low times, I wish he’d be the one filling my boots.
If it weren’t for his relentless convincing of what it’ll take to save this kingdom, what I am bound to by duty, this day wouldn’t have come.
And I wouldn’t be four knuckles deep into whiskey.
“My King,” he says as he rounds the armchair to face me. I scowl at the term, even though he’s been using it on me the last week or two. Preparing me. Suggesting I best get used to it prior to the women arriving.
He eyes the glass in my hand, then scans me with precise assessment. “Forgive me for being so casual on a night such as this, but what in the hells are you doing?”
Snorting, I lean back into the chair and lift the glass to him in silent respect. “Having myself a drink. What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You’re expected to be in the throne room within the hour. You’re not even dressed…and since when do you drink?”
I throw the entire drink back, gulping it down until it’s gone. With a hissed sigh, I set the glass down on the chair’s arm. “Not dressed? Devin, do you not know the difference between clothed and naked?”
“Humor…?” He tilts his head to the side. “Are you…drunk?”
Sighing, I swing my legs off the ottoman and stand to my full height, easily a head over my General. I hand him the glass. “No. Though I suppose I wish I could be.”
When he takes the glass his expression softens to pity. And Gods above, does it curl my stomach. I can’t stand anyone pitying me.
“Cyrus…” he mutters. That’s how I know he’s on the path to scolding.
When he drops the formality of our relationship in a sigh.
“…these women are our best chance in the entire kingdom. We’ve hand selected each one for you.
Haven’t we gotten past the point of hesitancy? We’re too far along to call it off.”
Funny. You’d think the so-called King of the Dragon Lands would be able to call something like this off. To call anything off. But that’s the conundrum—even a king has a limit on his powers. Or, at least someone like me. Someone who can’t be trusted to hold complete and utter power.
It is just as much a boundary I’ve established as my council has.
A necessary precaution. Considering my mother and father were murdered long ago by my uncle, King Aaric, who rules the southern half of our realm–Arterias.
I, the northern half called the Dragon Lands.
My uncle and I might share a sliver of the same blood, but the rest is vastly different.
Different enough to pose a potential threat. A risk that cannot go unchecked.
So I lean on Devin and his suggestions. Trusting that with him knowing all my darkest secrets, he can provide me with an unbiased opinion. A logical and calculated plan of how best to secure our kingdom.
I sigh and grumble, “What was it you said the other day? For the kingdom and the Gods?”
He brushes my collar down against my shoulder, ignoring my half-attempt at guided nobility. “Any man would kill to be in your position, you know.”
“I’d step down willingly.”
“But you can’t.” He reminds me with a glare.
“Now pull yourself together, let the staff clean and tidy you up, and get to the throne room. Need I remind you; these women are here for you and your hand? No more casualness, no more hesitancy. We need you to live the life of a king. You’ll be presented each woman and her name, and you’re to pick one to have dinner with tonight.
You will not be disappointed by the selection, I assure you. ”
“How many are there?”
He clears his throat, flicking off a non-existent piece of lint on my coat. “...Thirty.”
“Devin,” I growl. “Did we not agree to ten? Fifteen at most?”
“Yes…” he pats my chest, taking a step back and finally meeting my eyes “…but Lady Bethany suggested it be best to have more given the duration of the competition. And the trials.”
My face falls into something colder than seriousness. “What do you mean the trials?”
Respect to him for holding my gaze without flinching as most do. His voice is level. “There will be several trials to test each woman individually on their compatibility.”
“Compatibility for what, exactly?” I whisper.
He nods. “For everything.”
I shake my head, already sensing by the tension in his jaw they are likely something I would not agree to if I knew what they were. “We did not discuss that–”
“This entire competition is a delicate balance. We are running. Out. Of. Time, Cyrus. You know it as well as I do. The trials will not only speed up the selection process, but it will also shine a light on who would be the best fit.”
I attempt to work out the locked muscles in my jaw before finally saying. “What are they?”
He shakes his head, moving for the door.
“I can’t tell you that, I’m afraid. If I do, it will skew the selection.
We need to safeguard this entire process to be unbiased.
And I know you. I know your heart, and at that, your pitfalls.
We need to avoid your tendency to save a damsel at the cost of the kingdom. ”
I move after him, locked in determination. “Damsel or not, every individual is part of that kingdom.”
“What is more important to you?” his hand is on the door handle as he turns to me.
“Your heart and your feelings? Or all the years you’ve spent working to protect the people and the dragons within this kingdom?
To fight against the tyranny of your uncle?
You have a born-in responsibility and duty that cannot be upheld by anyone else. ”
I stop a few steps away from him, the truth in his statement settling like weight in my bones.
Because he’s right. And that truth has been one I’ve struggled with for ages.
Caging me within myself. I want to do good, but it seems like no matter what choice I make, there will always be a part of it that simply isn’t.
It’s finding the lesser of two evils.
Living with the repercussions of the one I choose.
My shoulders drop slowly, finding that perhaps I have no choice. Perhaps this is the best path, and I have to simply trust in it.
At least I can depend on Devin to tear off my blinders. To remind me of the things I’m at times in denial to look at. Sometimes he’s brutal. But brutally honest that I can trust him.
“We’re running out of time to get you dressed,” he says softly. A tone he rarely ever uses around anyone. Slowly he twists the handle and opens the door to four lady maids on the other side. “Try to enjoy yourself tonight. I promise you, you will find your match within this group.”
As I nod for them to enter, Devin turns to leave.
“Devin?” I call, and when he slides me one look, I dip my head. “Thank you.”
Hunted by the Dragon Shifter by Courtney Whims