Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
- CYRUS -
“And we’ve tried to offer a meeting at the border in Dragon’s Back Ridge?” I ask.
Doubt flickers in the council members surrounding the long rectangular table we’re at.
There are six dining rooms in the castle, with the main one being reserved for the women staying here.
This one is much smaller. Maybe about a quarter of the size.
Decorated similarly, with golden floor-standing candelabras and overhead chandeliers to light the space when sunlight isn’t spilling through the cathedral-style windows.
This table can accommodate at least forty chairs.
And while it’s been reiterated to me over the last hundred years the need to keep the council smaller now that so much is at stake and there are so many secrets to keep, the empty chairs are still a haunting memory.
Of a time when the entire table used to be full.
It seems the more time goes on, the less people I can trust. The more lonely life becomes, the bleaker my outlook.
Edwin, who’s been on my council since the day he turned twenty—sixty years ago, now—shakes his head. Wrinkles line his face, with a white beard dusting his jaw. Another reminder of my immortality—that I will never see a day of aging.
Most might find that envious. But not I. All it means is that, the more time goes on, the more I watch the people around me fade away to age, and then go on to be with the Gods.
And I’m stuck here.
Edwin clears his throat and replies, “King Cyrus, we have tried everything to get Aaric to agree to a meeting. We’ve exhausted all other options. We must start seriously considering war.”
“We can’t just give up so easily,” an elderly woman, Sheri, says. “We have to find another way.”
“What do you propose, then?” Frederick turns to her.
She sweeps her soft gray eyes to me. “I know no one has wanted to consider it before, but I think we lose nothing if we go through with it. We should rethink sending a spy to Arterias.”
“Leland Blackwind is one of the most knowledgeable about dragons here in the Dragon Lands. We cannot afford to send him when we are already keeping Lady Bethany,” Devin reminds in a grumble.
But Sheri’s eyes are on me. As are everyone else’s.
She lowers her voice. “He might be our best chance.”
“And if he’s killed?” Devin challenges.
Finally, Sheri looks at him. “But if he’s successful? If he can find the moon dragon egg?”
“Then what, you expect him to steal it?” Devin leans forward in his chair. “He’s a scholar, not a trained thief.”
“He would be best qualified to locate it,” she snaps back. “And you don’t have any better ideas.”
I hold out a hand to her to calm the room before things get out of hand. “Perhaps we save it as an option for later. If everything fails.”
“It’s not going to,” Devin mumbles. “The first trial went well, and the second one is next week. There are plenty of compatible women for King Cyrus—”
“Is that true?” Edwin asks from down the table. “Have you already sensed any matches?”
I meet his gaze. Heat prickles my skin at what should be a simple question. The beast quivers in the back of my mind before I slam down a wall between us. “Yes, I believe so. Though, it’s too early to tell for certain.”
“We’ve had more women pass the first trial than we originally anticipated,” Devin tacks on, and I try not to glare at him as he continues, “It’s very promising. After the third trial, we should know with absolute certainty which ones will be able to wear and wield the Blood Ring.”
“Yet we aren’t sure if just the Blood Ring on its own will be enough to open the throne room,” Sheri says, her arms now crossed over her chest. “Especially if the wearer hasn’t had years of training, nor enough magic to power the lock without both the Blood and Bone rings.”
“We worry about it one step at a time,” Devin bites back.
“Unlocking the throne room and freeing Vue will give us the upper hand much more than trekking across the Dragon Lands, into enemy territory, infiltrating Aaric’s castle as a spy, and praying to the Gods we can somehow find the moon dragon egg, steal it, and get it to hatch. ”
“Devin,” I snap in warning. He’s always struggled handling his temper. These days, it seems even more so. Anyone in the room can recognize the redness blooming in his cheeks, even outside the elevated pitch in his voice. He turns to me, thick eyebrows bunched, but quiets.
After fixing him with a look, I glance back at Sheri. “If this plan doesn’t work—”
“You mean if you kill another woman you select as his wife to test your theory on?” Sheri asks.
I’ve worked over the last century to keep myself from flinching every time it’s mentioned. Everyone knows now not to say her name.
I hold Sheri’s gaze. She’s always been a firm woman. Not even my power or position is enough to scare her from her own thoughts and feelings. There’s much to be said about someone of that nature. Part of me admires it. Even if sometimes it’s difficult.
“What I mean is, if any part of this plan fails, then we resort to yours. But I ask that you keep the utmost faith that it will work.” I rake my attention across every individual in the council.
“And I ask that if you’re one to pray to the Gods, you do so.
We’ll need all the help we can get. That said, this meeting is adjourned. ” I push my chair back and stand.
Everyone shuffles out of their chairs, bowing before me, before they all disperse. Only Devin and I are left in the room when I turn to him. “While I agree with you, she has a point as well.”
“We don’t even need to consider it. This will work.” Devin grabs my arm and squeezes. “You have to trust in the process.”
I sigh, shaking my head and looking out the windows at a waterfall cascading down the Serahaven mountains.
Devin drops his grasp from my arm. Quietly adding, “I know you don’t like the trials, but if we don’t test them then more will die trying to wield the Blood Ring. That’ll be much more painful than anything else.”
“I know, I know,” I mumble, not wanting to think about it. “It feels wrong to shift all the responsibility to someone else, though. It should be me. I should be the one having to bear the pressure, pain, and risk of it all.”
“You’re in charge of enough,” he whispers. “You need to learn to share the burden. Maybe then you’ll truly find happiness.”
I turn to look at him. I’ve had glimmers of happiness throughout my life. Though they’ve been quickly overshadowed by inevitability. The next looming duty. Of death that tends to surround me.
Devin bows, then makes for the door leading out of the dining room. As he reaches for the handle, he pauses, and glances at me over his shoulder. “As a reminder, you haven’t yet chosen a woman for tonight’s private dinner.”
“Lyra Goldbrook,” the answer spills out of my mouth almost unbidden.
The beast within me curls into a smile at the mention of having a private dinner. “Get. Back,” I growl at the echoes of my mind.
“Very well then,” Devin dips his head. “I’ll be sure to send her.”
As he opens the door, on the other side are two guards in wait. Between them is none other than Marcella Briarstone. Dressed in a silk burgundy gown that brings out the rich tones in her skin.
Devin tosses me a glance, and I dip my head.
The guards lead her into the room. Graceful violence in the way her hips move, each step ending in a click of her heels on the marble.
Long black gloves wrap her hands and arms, matching the tall heels on her feet.
The silk dress slides with her body, and a hint of her thigh peeks out from the side-slit cut up her gown.
Somehow, even in a dress, she’s got an edge to her. More than the two guards fully dressed in armor beside her. It’s almost comical that she’s so deadly no matter what she wears, and she knows it. Even if her memories are gone.
I flick two fingers at the guards to wait outside. Once the door shuts and we’re left alone, she stops a pace away.
She glances over to the windows. “I need to ask a favor of you. And I can’t explain why I need it.”
“Alright…what is it?”
“I need…” She blows out a breath, blinking rapidly before meeting my eyes. “I need dragonblood. At least three vials.”
I instinctively open my mouth to ask her, then shut it. Taking a step closer to her, I squint. Searching her face as if it’ll give me an answer her lips won’t. “Is someone hurt?”
“No.”
“You swear it?”
She snorts. “Did you forget that many were hurt in the trials—”
“I can’t help myself but ask,” I respond rather gruffly.
“No. No one has been hurt outside of the trials, as far as I’m aware.”
The trials. She must need it for them. But if she wants three vials, and there are only two trials left, I can only imagine one might be for someone else. Lyra, perhaps? Interesting if they have become somewhat friends.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I mumble, barely containing my endless source of questions.
She nods firmly and walks to the exit.
As she twists the handle, I call out, “Marcella?”
She looks at me expectantly over her shoulder.
I clear my throat, trying to think around the beast twisting in my chest as her eyes connect with mine. My voice low, I say, “Do you trust Lyra Goldbrook?”
Silence and stillness settles over her features. Finally, quietly, “Why do you want to know?”
The beast claws forward, pouring flashes of her blood on that handkerchief to the forefront of my mind.
Gritting my teeth, I shake my head and turn my back before the beast can do something else foolish.
Like show its fangs again. The fingers on my left hand begin to twitch, and I aggressively squeeze my wrist to stop the movement.
“Cyrus…?” Marcella calls from behind me.
I manage to grunt out, “No reason. I’ll get you the three vials whenever I can. You’re dismissed.”
“But are you alright—”
“Leave!” I snap.
Stunned silence falls over the room, before her heels click away and the door shuts.