Chapter 18 Cyrene #2
When silence finally fell, we were both panting, covered in dust, and very much alive.
“Are you alright?” Kieran asked, his hands cupping my face as he scanned me for injuries.
I nodded, too breathless to speak. His face was inches from mine, smudged with dirt, his blue eyes bright with leftover adrenaline and something else that made my heart stutter.
He shook his head. “That was—”
“Incredible.”
His thumbs brushed my cheekbones, leaving trails in the dust. “You shared your magic with me. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
“Neither have I.” My voice came out soft. “It was…nice.”
A smile tugged at his lips, transforming his face. “Nice is one word for it.”
The air between us felt charged, crackling with the same energy that had flowed between us in the crypt. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I swayed toward him.
In one quick motion, Kieran slid his hands from my face to my waist, and he backed me against the stone wall. His body pressed against mine, pinning me in the most delicious way. The contrast of the cold stone at my back and his heat at my front sent shivers racing across my skin.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since I walked into your workshop this morning,” he said, his breath hot on my lips.
“What took you so long?” I whispered, stroking his chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath my palm.
His answer was to capture my mouth with his. This wasn’t a tentative kiss. This was hunger and need and fire. His lips moved over mine with the same intensity he’d shown fighting the blood sigil, as if kissing me required the same desperate focus.
I melted into him, my arms winding around his neck as I kissed him back. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I opened for him eagerly, a small moan escaping when he deepened the kiss.
His hands skimmed down my sides to my hips, pulling me closer until every inch of us aligned.
I could feel the hard planes of his chest, the strong muscles of his thighs, the undeniable evidence of his desire pressed against my belly.
The knowledge that I affected him this way sent heat pooling in my bones.
Kieran broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jaw, down the column of my throat. When he reached the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, he nipped, and my knees nearly buckled.
“Kieran,” I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair.
He eased back enough to look at me, his blue eyes nearly black with desire.
Quandary chose that moment to land on my shoulder. You two can swoon for each other later. We should check if it worked.
I cleared my throat. “We should see if the blood runes in my workshop were affected.”
Kieran’s hands fell away from my face, but he caught one of mine as we started back through the corridors. “Your magic is extraordinary. I’ve never experienced anything like that fusion before.”
“Is it unusual for magic to blend like that?”
His thumb traced circles on my palm. “Very rare. Most magical energies repel each other.”
“But ours didn’t.”
“No. Ours definitely didn’t.”
We navigated the winding corridors with Quandary chirping as he flew ahead. The frost that had coated the walls was receding, melting into puddles on the stone floor.
“A good sign,” Kieran said. “The magic could be weakening.”
As we neared the main part of the castle, I became aware of our appearance. We were both covered in dirt and debris. My hair was a tangled mess. And Kieran’s shirt sported a tear from his shoulder to his taut abdomen. Not to mention the dried blood on his palm.
“We look like we’ve been brawling with ghosts,” I said.
Kieran glanced down at himself and let out a snort. “I’ve looked worse after advisory meetings.”
“That’s not reassuring about your political process.”
“Politics.” He rolled his eyes. “Almost as dangerous as blood magic.”
We climbed the spiral staircase to my workshop, our shoulders brushing in the narrow space. Each point of contact sent little sparks dancing across my skin, aftershocks of our magical connection.
When we reached my workshop door, I hesitated. “What if it didn’t work?”
“Then we try something else. We’ll keep trying until you’re safe.”
My chest tightened, and I pushed open the door.
My workshop looked exactly as we’d left it, crystals scattered across the workbench, tools in disarray. But something felt different. The air was lighter, cleaner somehow.
Quandary flew to the corner where we’d found the anchor rune. The blood mark is gone.
I hurried over, kneeling to examine the spot. Where the blood rune had been, only a faint scorch mark remained, as if it had been burned away.
“It worked,” I breathed, relief rushing through me.
Kieran checked the other locations where we’d found smaller runes. “They’re all gone.” He turned to me, a rare smile transforming his face. “You did it.”
“We did it.” I grabbed a clean cloth from my workbench and gently took his injured hand. “Let me see this.”
I cleaned the dried blood from his face and palm. The cut was already healing, vampire magic at work, but it still looked painful.
“Does it hurt?” I asked softly.
“Not much.” His eyes never left my face as I tended to his wound. “It was worth it.”
I reached for a small pot of salve I kept for burns and cuts. “This will help it heal faster.”
As I smoothed the cool balm over his palm, his fingers curled around mine. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you.” I closed the pot but didn’t pull my hand away. “You could’ve been seriously hurt.”
“So could you. That was reckless, sharing your magic with me like that.”
“Says the man who cut his own hand to create a magical shield.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?”
Warmth unfurled in my chest at the word pair. Before I could respond, one of the crystals on my workbench began to glow.
“Look.” I pointed with my free hand. “The enchantments are working again.”
One by one, the crystals I’d created earlier lit up with golden light, their magic restored now that the blood runes were destroyed.
Kieran picked up the brightest one, turning it in the light. “Perfect, just like their creator.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Hardly perfect. Just determined.”
“Determined, brilliant, and formidable.” His eyes met mine, sincere and warm. “Don’t diminish yourself, Cyrene.”
The castle bell began to toll, marking the hour.
Kieran’s expression shifted. “The council meeting. I forgot.” He glanced at the window, checking the position of the sun. “It started an hour ago.”
“You should go.” Though I didn’t want to break the moment between us.
He hesitated. “Come with me?”
“Like this?” I gestured at my dust-covered clothes.
“They need the occasional surprise.” His smile turned mischievous. “Besides, I want you there. After what happened today, it’s clear someone in the castle has been working against you. I need to know who and why.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic. “Give me two minutes to make myself somewhat presentable.”
I quickly washed my face and hands in the basin, smoothed my hair, and brushed the worst of the dirt from my gown. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
Quandary settled on my shoulder. Don’t forget me. I want to see their faces when you tell them what happened.
We made our way to the council chamber. As we approached, I could hear raised voices through the heavy oak doors.
“Sounds pleasant,” I said.
Kieran’s expression hardened. He pushed open the doors without knocking.
The council chamber fell silent as we entered. A dozen faces turned toward us, Kieran’s advisors, plus several nobles I recognized from court functions. Lady Aragorn looked particularly smug.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Brightworthy said, rising from his seat. “We were not expecting you to join us.”
“Clearly,” Kieran said dryly. “Since you started without me.”
“Urgent matters required discussion,” Lord Rathley said, his eyes flicking to me with barely concealed disdain. “And we were told you were indisposed.”
“By whom?”
No one answered.
I noticed several of the council members eyeing our disheveled appearance with raised eyebrows and thinly veiled speculation. One whispered something to her neighbor, who smirked in response.
We should’ve taken time to change before coming here. I should’ve realized that we’d be judged before we had a chance to explain. And with the way the nobles and advisors were looking at us, I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell them what happened. One or all of them could easily be involved.
From the sharp look Kieran sent me, he must agree.
Kieran strode to his place at the head of the table, his presence commanding attention despite his torn clothing. “What urgent matters have you been discussing in my absence?”
Lord Rathley cleared his throat. “The matter of your relationship with the joy witch, Your Majesty.”
My stomach clenched. I remained by the door, feeling like an intruder.
“What about my queen?” Kieran said with dangerous calm.
“There are concerns among the nobility,” Lady Isolde said. “About your relationship.”
“We have a few weeks before this is a concern,” Kieran growled. “We were given thirty days.”
“This affects the stability of the kingdom,” Lord Rathley said stiffly. “Rumors are spreading. The people are confused and need assurance.”
Lord Brightworthy spoke up again. “I…” He shook his head and sent me a look of sympathy. “We’ve reached a consensus, Your Majesty. To quell the rumors and demonstrate the legitimacy of Lady Cyrene’s position here.”
I didn’t like the sound of that one bit.
Kieran’s jaw tightened. “And what consensus is that?”
“A ball will be held this weekend,” he said. “To settle this fully in our minds, we propose that you and Queen Cyrene perform the Shadow Rite before the assembled nobility.”
My heart skipped a beat.
“That is unnecessary,” Kieran said flatly. “I’ve already told you that we’re married. You saw us kiss. We’ve acted as the couple we truly are. Why do you need more proof than that?”
“It would settle the matter,” Lord Broadworthy said, sending a sharp look the others’ way.
Lady Aragorn flashed her fangs. “Either you prove your marriage is real, or…” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
The room fell silent. I could feel every eye on me, measuring my reaction.
“This is an ultimatum,” Kieran said quietly.
“Call it what you wish,” Lord Rathley said with a snort. “But the council is united on this matter. You will perform the Shadow Rite at the ball, or the joy witch must leave and return to her own people, nullifying the treaty.”
Kieran’s gaze found mine across the chamber, his expression unreadable.
In that moment, I realized how precarious my position truly was.
And how much depended on our next move.