44. Kyros
Chapter forty-four
Kyros
My chest aches as I turn my back on Astraea.
Even if I’m leaving her in the arms of one of my most trusted friends.
She’ll be safe. This is something I had to do.
I had to do it. I keep telling myself the same lie, hoping it tastes more like the truth.
The metal hisses as I pull the glittering black Tsalalerian steel blade from the scabbard at my hip, slicing through my turbulent thoughts.
I can’t think about that expression on her face.
I’ve seen it before, despite promising myself that I would never give her a reason to look at me like that ever again.
The longer I envision the hurt brandished on her face, the more furious I become with myself.
I left another wound on her battered heart.
She knew what I had just done and realized that I had done it before.
I sent her to sleep with my magick. The moment it hit her, betrayal swam in those ocean blue eyes.
Guilt claws at my mind, but I just can’t fucking sit here and think about it.
Not with the root of the problem standing right in this room. Not when I can do something about it.
Phaedra. The cause of everything horrible that has happened to both of us, to the entirety of both kingdoms we were meant to rule over.
And now she has my brother. I will never let Astraea suffer at her hand again, and I won’t let anything happen to Mavros either.
Whatever she has done can be fixed, I try to tell myself.
He and Zinya were the reason that we were luring her here to begin with, and while things have just changed, the goal remains the same. We need to adapt. I have to pivot.
I let my shadows fall away like a dropping veil of darkness; the chaos begins to calm.
People can see who they are fighting a little more easily now.
Blood and bodies litter the floor, and a sick sense of satisfaction reigns over me as I realize that there are more of my men still standing than hers.
Scanning the room, I search for my brother.
My blood runs cold when I finally get a glimpse of him, though.
Standing on the dais, the table that Astraea once stood before has been flipped to its side.
The extravagant meal that once decorated the surface is ruined and smeared along the floor.
Phaedra’s sadistic smile widens as our eyes clash, and it brings acid to the back of my throat.
To her side, Mavros stands with his dual blades crossed at Rowan’s throat. My magic quivers at the threat.
“What is this?” I growl more at my brother than Phaedra, but of course it's her who answers me.
“He’s oath bound.” She says simply with a twisted smile, as though she takes a sick kind of pleasure that the very words are ripping my world to shreds. I don't want to believe that this is true, but the look on Mavros’ face confirms it. He has tied himself with Phaedra, but why?
“NO—Mavros, what have you done?” This world is more cruel than I had ever imagined.
One moment giving me everything I never knew I wanted; A lifelong bond with a woman I never fathomed I could long for, and then moments later, ripping it all away with three simple words.
He’s oath bound—rooted to the enemy. My brother wouldn’t have done such a thing without reason. There had to have been—Zinya.
“It really didn’t take much convincing. Men are all the same.
Simple creatures with minds that only move in one direction…
” She sighs. “It was always meant to be you, though, Kyros.” She says, shaking her head and sounding disappointed despite the smile that still creeps over her twisted face.
She runs the tip of her pointer finger along the shaved side of Mavros’ head, where his tattoo trembles at the touch.
His eyes close as he visibly attempts to block out the urge to push her away.
I see it on his face and feel the shadows on my own skin vibrate with unease in response to it too.
“What’s done is done.” He grinds between his teeth, the sound of more bodies falling behind me echoing in the background.
Opening his eyes, he looks past me as he pushes Rowan into the chest of one of Phaedra’s guards.
The guard takes Rowan’s hands, roughly pulling his arms behind his back, and binds them together with a chain before Mavros continues.
“You need to leave, Kyros—take Astraea and live in peace away from all of this.” Mavros urges, attempting to take a step toward me.
However, one of the soldiers in Phaedra’s command holds him back, one hand on the center of his bare chest.
She’s flaunting this hold she has on him like a show.
As though they would be able to actually hold him back if he was not bound to this bitch.
This oath is the only thing that’s keeping him from coming any closer.
He can only be released from this magickal bond if the one he pledged his oath to—Phaedra—allows it.
And she laughs bitterly as though she's reading my very thoughts.
“Oh, he’s not going anywhere, and neither is that pretty little princess.
” I can’t even bring a single word to my mind as I only growl in warning as a response to her words.
A scuffle sounds in the corner of the room, but just as I am about to turn my attention to see whatever has Phaedra smiling so widely over there, Mavros speaks.
“What?” His voice now takes on a defiant tone, his brows drop low on his face as he glowers at her.
“I gave you my oath, and you swore me yours. We are both oath bound. The oath goes two ways!” He argues.
At least the outrage in his tone proves Mavros is still in control of his own mind, even if his actions are limited.
My fist tightens around the hilt of my sword.
This is worse than I could have imagined.
“Oh, I am fully aware of our oaths. You promised me your fealty to death for my promise that they live.” Cruelness sharpens her eyes as she turns them on me.
“They will live out the rest of their lives just as the stupid bird that refuses me does, caged.” Shock and horror rounds Mavros’ eyes as he realizes his mistake.
The oaths bound with magick are not just promises of words.
They are binding to those words with their magick and blood.
Bound to keep those promises unless released freely by both sides.
“I won’t allow that to happen!” I growl through my teeth. I don’t know what's going to happen when I say these words, and I’m not sure I will be able to come back from this once I do, but I won’t allow Mavros to take this burden, and there is no way that I will allow any harm to come of my mate.
Calling my shadows to me, I let the glittering black sand pool into a slow vortex around my hands before I lift them out in front of me and whisper the incantation the others found in the library.
Several people around me jump back as my shadows extend in a plume.
The sand dusting me in the face like the time at the tarn.
The time that I drifted into Astraea’s nightmare.
A pained groan erupts from my throat as my body twists and contorts into a swirling storm cloud of deep onyx right before the entire room.
I feel my blood vaporize, my bones reconstruct, and my soul darken.
But impossibly I feel as if I am watching it all happen as an outsider looking in.
Gasps of horror and screams of terror sound somewhere in the distance, but I can barely hear anything over the rushing buzz of my magick as it transforms me into my shadow-self.
Each elongated bone aches; the muscle covering them ripples and flexes as my body solidifies into the monstrous form of my Umbra Vitae. It worked.
For a moment I thought I could see fear being shone in Phaedra’s eyes, but no, that manic look in her eyes and the tilt of her mouth—of course she wouldn’t fear the monster I have created of myself. No, it’s undiluted lust for the show of power I just revealed.
Just as I had hoped.
I look down at my hand—sharpened, blade-like, and black-tipped claws now adorn my fingers.
I flex my grip on the hilt of my sword, feeling the new grip I have on my weapon.
The magick I have always carried swells as I flip the sword, testing the grip further.
The charge I feel in this form is otherworldly.
An absolute power that seems to gain more from the shadows everywhere in the room, as though I feed on the darkness this world has to give me.
Memory of the Shula Morana and the night I expelled what felt like all of my magick flashes to the forefront of my mind as I realize why I feel this pull of power now.
It’s no wonder closing that portal in Aithne during the Shula Morana took so much magick from me.
Whoever was countering the magick I was using to close it was literally siphoning from my shadows.
Turning my back on Phaedra and my brother, I walk out into the center of the throne room, where several of the guards turn to try to take me down.
It's no use. No sooner do they raise their blades against me than their heads roll from their shoulders. Each one of them paints the room red with blood, even before their bodies catch up to the heads that hit the ground with a sick thwap.
More of her guards rush me. I take them down in waves.
The few who have some semblance of good sense take a measured step back.
Even my own men take a hesitant step away.
I don’t fault them for being afraid. That’s what I wanted, isn’t it?
What this act of merciless brutality was, so I would ensure their fear.
My chest heaves, and dark blood drips from my blade like fingertips like black oil.
Turning away from Phaedra and the life I’ve pledged as a monster at her side, I chance one more look at Astraea before Viltarin gets her out of here.
Only to find he still stands near the door with Astraea restrained in his arms.
Awake.
Her eyes are wide and frantic as Viltarin’s arms pull tightly around her middle.
She kicks and screams as he continuously tries pulling her from the room.
When our eyes collide, she stalls her struggle to get free.
Instead, her fight turns to sorrow as she's dragged further away from me. Viltarin pauses long enough that I see her blue eyes flood with tears. Tears, which I promised to never cause her again. Her expression begs me not to do what we both know I’m about to do.
My jaw flexes with my determination, and I know she sees my decision when those tears fall.
They mark the floor with the proof of my failure.
As much as I want to just tear through this room like the monster I am and kill Phaedra with my bare hands, that plan had to change. Mavros’ life depends on it. I would have never been able to live with myself if I let that happen, and neither would Astraea.
I'm not doing this to her. I’m doing it for her—for both of them.
For the life Astraea deserves to live—away from Phaedra and her monstrous rule. And I’ll do it for my brother and the only family I have left.
Death has painted the room, and my fury is well known now.
This decision happened fast, but as I look at the hurt on Astraea’s face, I know it’s not been fast enough.
I need to get Phaedra to accept this offer.
I need to fix my brother's mistake. It is my responsibility to take care of my people, and this is how I will do it. I give Astraea one last glance and silently beg her to forgive me for what I’m about to do.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out with a heavy sigh, then turn my back on Astraea and face Phaedra.
“Release my brother from his oath and take mine instead.” The words come out deeper than I’m used to hearing, revealing the voice of the monster I’ve had hidden beneath my skin all this time.
The other side of myself that lives within the nightmares I have weaved.
My jaw flexes as everyone around me takes in my new gruesome form.
Even my brother's eyes widen with a sort of terror and worry I’ve never witnessed from him, as the shock of what I’ve become takes over his features.
“No! Kyros! You fool!” A familiar voice calls out, pulling my attention.
“Silence him!” Phaedra bellows, whipping her hand out in the direction the voice had sounded from, and then a grunt of pain follows.
Shayd falls to his knees as one guard punches him in the stomach and two others push him down by the shoulders.
I don't want to hear whatever it is he has to say anyway.
He's been nothing but a pawn for Phaedra.
“This is what you want—you said it yourself. It’s always been me. You’ve been molding me into the weapon you’ve wanted to wield.” I extend my arms out wide. “Here’s your opportunity. What’s it going to be?”