Chapter 46
Forty-Six
- MARCELLA -
In my room after breakfast, I sink onto the windowsill and lean against the glass. Emotion and confusion war within my heart just as ferociously as they had last night.
I can’t think straight.
Every slip of memory overtakes my mind. And now that I’m out of the chatter, out of distractions to sit in my own thoughts, I’m swept away into the tides of remembrance.
Three years ago
I’ve been avoiding private meetings with Cyrus since I told him about Crawford. Though, I can’t seem to stop reminiscing about our rendezvous. Remembering how good it felt to have him shower me in adoration, to kiss and touch me. But perhaps it’s best where we left it.
A one-off. Nice and casual.
He’s handsome, and sure, there’s a draw to him for his power.
His position. But the longer I think about it, the longer I don’t want to lean into that thought process.
I’m not here to bend to a King’s will. Neither am I here to seduce my way to power and position.
I want it for myself. For all the years, blood, and sweat I’ve invested in my skills and experience.
I don’t dare throw it away for some…fling, with a man.
Part of me is angry he even decided to bring up the thought of promoting me to his General. After I opened my legs to him. After I touched his lips…
It makes things far too complicated.
And I can’t do complicated. I have to keep it professional. Clean.
As I stroll through the gardens, admiring the small dragon butterflies floating through the air as sunlight spills through the leaves above, I smile against the warmth.
I find a stone bench set against a backdrop of rose bushes.
Their red petals like blood blooming against a sea of green.
Taking a seat, I close my eyes. Ready to spend my half hour of lunch out here, breathing in the mountain air.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” comes a gentle, masculine voice on the breeze.
I flash my eyes open, leaning up off the bench as King Cyrus strolls across the courtyard.
Though, his eyes are not on me. They’re on a marble water fountain with a legless dragon curling in on itself like a snake.
Its jaws parted, serrated teeth like lines of tiny daggers in its mouth, and from which comes a spout of water.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re following me, now?”
He crosses his arms, tossing me a quick glance over his shoulder before his attention is back on the dragon. “Shh, I’m trying to have a conversation with the water dragon.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or scoff. But when he doesn’t move after a few moments, I get up from the bench and walk to him. “Who knew the King could be so…”
He turns, raising an eyebrow. But as his eyes connect with mine, brilliant like snow in the sunlight, I lose my train of thought.
“You were saying?” he murmurs.
Swallowing, I remain firm. “Unhinged, speaking to a fountain. Should I be concerned and notify the doctor?”
A chuckle lightens his features as he turns back to the fountain. “That’s your opinion of me? Unhinged?”
“Should my opinion be of something else?”
The corners of his lips turn up. “No matter what your opinion is of me, it’s yours. Not mine to command. Whether I’m King or not.” He turns slightly, side-eyeing me. “Though, I have to admit I’ve wondered if your opinion of me has changed since I last spoke with you.”
Taking a deep breath, I stare up at him. He turns his body to face me instead of the fountain. Braced, like he’s ready for a blow.
I let the truth spill. “No, my opinion of you hasn’t changed.
But mine of myself has been challenged. Because if others find out what we’ve done, it’ll sink my reputation.
I’ve worked years and years, down till I bled and broke bones to be here.
And I simply cannot waste that on a man, as much as I might be tempted to.
” Flicking my gaze down to his boots, then up the length of his body, I finish, “King or not.”
He nods slowly. “I see. I understand and respect that.”
Said so simply, it takes me off guard by how quick he is to accept it. So I add, recklessly, “And I don’t wish to cloud your judgement of me and my skills by pleasing your desires. I want the position of General because I’ve earned it. Not because I’ve sucked your cock, or let you ruin me.”
“Ruin?” he repeats with a pained look. Shaking his head, he says, “Marcella, it was not my intention to do so. For that, if I’ve misled you, truthfully I’m so sorry.”
“Then say it was a mistake, and that the both of us should forget it.”
“Do you try to hurt me?” he whispers, searching my eyes. “Is this a test of my character? Of my respect for you? It wasn’t a mistake for me, and saying so would be a lie. But Marcella, if you tell me to stay away, then I shall. No matter my longing for you, it’ll never outweigh my honor for you.”
Relaxing the tension in my jaw, his words wind into me. Twisting and molding into my breath at the sheer gentleness of it. The truth is there in his eyes.
Unsure of what else to say, I only dip my head in respect. “Thank you.”
I leave to report back to my shift.
The memory fades to black, and I’m left staring out the window at the mountains. Skimming my fingers along the scar on my thigh. I slow, lost on the jagged edge of the lightened skin. Pulled into another echo of a memory. Of ripping skin, of screams, and blood—
A knock sounds at my bedroom door. Surely it can’t be time for dinner yet. We have at least another hour. I slide up off the ground, adjusting my skirts before I go to open it.
Devin.
I narrow my eyes, stiffening my hold on the door. “Yes?”
He glances behind me, then says, “You alone?”
I stare at him long enough that it makes us both uncomfortable. “Why? Did you wish to come in?”
He hisses, “Never in your lifetime.”
I swing the door to close it on him when he kicks a boot out to stop it. “You’re being requested.”
A smug smile tugs at one side of my mouth as I open the door and brush past him without waiting.
No matter his reservations or hatred for me, it’ll never compete with the respect that Cyrus has for me.
And, in an odd way, it makes me feel powerful.
That…and anxious. Nervous that Cyrus has such strong convictions for me.
Part of me is hesitant to agree to a meeting with him.
Each step away from my room is another knock against the door in my mind I don’t want to open.
The one that had the lock busted open once I kissed Cyrus last night.
I’m not sure if it’s one I’m prepared to walk through—or even want to walk through.
Even though the light spilling in from the other side calls for me to explore it.
Devin swings his stubbled chin down toward the eastern quarter. “The library.”
Without waiting for him, I head in the general direction.
Turning down the wrong hallway before Devin corrects me and I begrudgingly follow him.
The library door is closed when we arrive, and he opens the door for me and ushers me inside.
As I take a few steps in and scan the room, my skin grows cold.
Because Cyrus is nowhere in sight.
No. Waiting for me in the center of the room with a lifted chin is Lady Bethany.
As I turn to leave, Devin closes the door to the library and locks it. I try the handle for good measure as Lady Bethany says, “Come and take a seat.”
I jiggle the handle faster, and Lady Bethany’s heels click closer over the marbled tile. “You have no chance to leave until I’m ready to let you leave, I’m afraid.”
I drop my hand and glare at her over my shoulder. “Why am I here? And what do you want?”
Her cheery smile grows wider, bubbling a current of anger underneath my skin at the way she regards me. “First, take a seat.”
Seeing no way out of it, I edge a path around her to a tufted armchair, keeping a healthy distance between us. Though, it isn’t long until she stands before me. “You have become quite fond of Lyra and Aelia, haven’t you?”
Blinking at such an innocent question, I answer honestly, “Yes, I suppose.”
“Would you consider them your friends?”
“I…” What is she trying to get at? I can’t figure out if admitting or denying it will put me in a worse situation.
Besides, are we friends? Or is it merely the circumstances we find ourselves in making us allies?
The fact of the matter is my friendships over the course of my life have been few and far between.
But seeing no other reason to lie, I say slowly, “Yes…?”
She grabs my chin and yanks my face up to hers and I smack her hand off me. “Do not…touch me,” I warn in a whisper.
A hint of a grin is on her weathered lips as she straightens. “You do realize that your position in this castle will not protect you from the consequences of your ill attitude?”
“My position?” I snicker. She has to know I’m working undercover. And based off her and Devin’s shared distaste for me, I have to imagine I’m their common enemy.
“You will stay far away from King Cyrus, Lyra, and Aelia from here on out, is that understood? You will no longer converse or spend time with them. And your explanation for doing such shall not leave this room. If you so much as tell another soul, King Cyrus included, you’ll be exterminated immediately. Is that clear?”
My eyebrows arch at the severity of the demand. I stand up out of the chair, and at my full height, I have at least half a head over her. “If you know my true position here, then surely you’re not threatening me.”
To her credit, she doesn’t cower. The lack of fear has me concerned there are other parts of Lady Bethany I don’t know about—parts that feel confident enough to threaten someone of my experience.
She tilts her head to look up at me. “Oh, you ill-advised woman. Even if you had the General’s position of Cyrus’ right hand, you still wouldn’t scare me.
Because, you see…” she leans in to whisper as if it’s not just us two in this massive library, “Cyrus isn’t the most powerful one here.
I am. I can easily make your death look accidental.
And I have far more allies than you do, that no one would contest it. ”
A cold current trickles down my spine, and as she steps back I finally see it in her.
The conviction. The boldness of someone far more sinister than what her appearance seems to convey.
Despite the frilly light pink dress adorning her small frame, I imagine the blood staining her skin.
Her fabrics. Yet the way she watches me feels as if even if she were soaked in it, she wouldn’t be bothered. Too locked in on her prey—on me.
“Now,” she says with a tilt of her head, “you may leave.”
Watching the predator prowling within her gaze, I slowly step away, careful not to turn my back to her. As I grab the doorknob, she announces, “General, she is free to go. Escort her back to her room.”
Once Devin returns me to my room, I have maybe thirty minutes to deconstruct everything that happened before it’s time to leave for dinner.
I can avoid Aelia, I’m sure. But Lyra? After we created a blood pact and feeling like she’s the only woman I can truly trust?
Knowing her stubbornness, she won’t allow me to just fade into the background, never to speak to her again.
There’s been a gnawing guilt in my gut since I kissed Cyrus yesterday.
One that won’t let up and only bites harder when I see Lyra.
The way she speaks of him, how her eyes glimmer.
She’s smitten with him. And now knowing I might have some sort of history with Cyrus?
That he might actually not have the door completely closed on whatever we had?
I’m not sure how I’m going to share that information when I’m still processing it myself.
But completely cutting her off feels worse.
I stare in the mirror, desperate to find a way to tell Lyra without tipping off Lady Bethany or Devin. Knowing their expectations of me, they won’t allow me to slip. They’ll have their eyes on me all night. I can’t speak to her…but I can write.
I scramble for a previous letter from Cyrus and open it. Using my dagger, I slice off the half with his writing. Not having a quill handy, I draw blood from my ankle. Carefully, slowly, I etch a short letter on the paper in my own blood.
Can’t talk.
Your room tonight.