Page 20 of Blood King, Part I (Crowns #4)

Chapter fifteen

Night hung around him. Cyrus cracked open his eyes at a faint flicker of light. His gaze caught and sharpened on the candle flame across the room on a small side table. His side table. In his chamber. Except, he didn’t remember returning to the villa…

Then everything came rushing back.

The arena.

The king.

Pyro.

He sat up with a start. Pain shot through his arm, and he winced.

It was bandaged, and it hurt something fierce.

He gingerly tested the rest of his body and found his left leg fully mended.

Teron’s work. That was good. The old healer obviously didn’t have the strength to heal him all in one sitting, but that was fine. Cyrus was healed enough.

His clothing had been stripped from him. Not a surprise. Teron always gave him a thorough check-over.

Cyrus rose from the bed slowly but still a little too fast, darkening his vision to near blindness. He gripped the edge to steady himself until the sensation passed. Recovered, he picked up the single candle and lit two more with it.

When he turned, he found three glowing sets of eyes looking back at him.

The dogs. Slowly, they stepped from the shadows.

Cyrus froze. He couldn’t feel them anymore, or he didn’t think he could feel them. Chaos still spiraled through his mind, through his body, but nothing he could make sense of.

Down , he commanded through the bond. If there was still a bond.

The dogs stepped toward him, their heads low, their mouths open. He knew animals only in the context of using them, but he didn’t take this for the best sign. Unease weighted his stomach. Would they spare him only when his blood demanded it?

The dogs stared at Cyrus, and Cyrus stared back.

Was there any connection still at all? He reached out his hand. The dog closest to him stretched its neck toward him, its nose testing the air.

Cyrus reached farther.

It was a stupid thing to do—he already couldn’t use his sword arm. If he lost the ability in both arms with still so much fighting left to do…

But it wasn’t a swift bite that came. In a surprising move, the dog bumped its head up under Cyrus’s hand, the same as it had done at the arena.

Cyrus puffed an air of relief and swallowed, giving himself a few breaths as his beating heart slowed. He’d assumed the animal had done that before under the confines of control, but he wasn’t controlling it now.

The dog, not finding satisfactory scratches, pushed his hand harder, and Cyrus gave in.

Its short brindle coat was surprisingly soft, and petting it had a calming effect…

for them both. The dog’s tailless hind shook from side to side, and Cyrus chuckled.

Within moments, all three animals were vying for his attention.

Then he knew—these dogs belonged to him now. He wasn’t sure what he’d do with them. He’d never had a dog before. Now he had three.

Giving each animal one last pat, he moved to the sideboard and lit another candle. The water in the basin darkened as he sloppily washed his face and hands. He desperately needed a bath, but he wouldn’t bother now. It would be another day of blood—he’d clean up later.

As he pulled a towel, he paused. The markings on his arms that the witch had given him were still there. Were they permanent? Did they still protect him? From what?

He spied his leathers in a heap on the floor.

He pulled them on. They were still covered in blood, but he didn’t care enough to find clean ones.

In fact, he didn’t mind at all. Most of the blood was likely the king’s, who he hoped was still strung up at the entry of the arena.

Cyrus was happy to wear his blood for a little while longer.

“He lives,” a voice called from the door.

Cyrus looked over his shoulder to see Everan. His friend grinned at him as Jaem and Bash shuffled in behind.

“How did I get here?” Cyrus asked.

“Bash found you, brought you back.” He tipped his head to the large fighter behind him.

Cyrus gave Bash an appreciative nod, and Bash smiled.

Everan cast the dogs a wary glance. “They followed you back. We tried containing them, but they weren’t too keen on the idea. Kord nearly lost a hand. So, we just left them. They seemed friendly toward you, with your… magic.”

Cyrus snorted. “It’s not magic.”

Everan raised a brow. “What do you call floating around in people’s minds?”

“I don’t float.”

“Fine. Entering minds, then. And the thing back at the arena with the cats?” He nodded at Cyrus’s marked arms. “Now that. When are you going to tell us what’s going on?”

Cyrus looked down at the markings again. “There was a woman.”

“Oh, yeah. We know. The witch.”

Cyrus’s eyes darted up. “Where is she?”

“That I don’t know,” Everan said.

“Haven’t seen her since we left the arena,” Bash added.

She was probably long gone by now. Cyrus didn’t blame her. He’d have left already too, if he could.

“How long have I been out?” he asked.

Everan shrugged. “A few hours.”

Teron entered the room. Cyrus was happy to see him, although he didn’t want any more healing.

With the events of the last day, all that Teron had seen and felt, the suffering of those who’d fought for their freedom, the ones Teron couldn’t save—Cyrus didn’t want to see it.

Perhaps it was cowardly, but he didn’t think he could carry it.

He barely had the strength for himself. Plus, he knew Teron was tired.

There were still plenty of men who needed healing, and the old man obviously hadn’t rested himself.

Teron stepped toward him, rolling up the sleeves of his robe.

“I’m fine,” Cyrus told him, shifting back. “You’ve done enough.”

“But I’m not finished.”

“The rest will heal fine on its—”

“Cyrus, let him finish,” Everan said. “The men need you. They’re awaiting your orders.”

Cyrus paused. “My orders?”

“You’re our lead.”

“Well… not anymore.”

Teron reached for the bandaging on his arm, and Cyrus pulled it back, raising his hand to pause the old man.

“Why would you think that?” Everan asked. “Of course you’re still our lead.”

In fairness, Cyrus wasn’t exactly sure what he was thinking. It wasn’t like he’d given any thought to what would happen after the arena fell. He hadn’t even believed that could happen. “Um…” He really just needed some time to figure things out. “Tell them to get some sleep.”

“Who cares about sleep?” Jaem said.

That was true. Who cared about sleep after tasting freedom? “Well, I don’t have orders for them.”

“Then what are they to do?” Everan asked. “What’s your plan?”

Cyrus gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t have a plan. And they can do whatever they’d like, so long as they burn this place to the ground.”

The space between Everan’s brows creased. “You can’t just let it all go now.”

“Yes, I can.”

Everan side-dipped his head at Bash and Jaem, and they exited the room.

Teron moved toward Cyrus again.

“No,” Cyrus told the old healer. “I’m fine.” Except he wasn’t fine. The pain was excruciating.

“People need a leader,” Everan said.

Cyrus reared his head in surprise. “You mean me?” He snorted as Everan raised a brow. “I’m not meant to lead.” He wasn’t worthy of such a responsibility.

Teron waved Cyrus back toward his bed. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake to finish,” he told him. “Come. Lie down.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“What do you think you’ve been doing for the last four years?” Everan asked.

Teron shook a finger at Cyrus. “I’m the one that wrapped that arm, and I know you’re not fine.”

“Cyrus,” Everan pressed. “Everyone’s looking to you.”

“They shouldn’t be!” Cyrus snapped. “I didn’t ask them to.”

“Cyrus.” Teron reached for him again.

He ripped his arm back, and a searing pain tore through it. “I said I’m fine,” he gritted through his teeth.

The dogs let out a low growl, and the room quieted.

Cyrus drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

He wiped his hand over his face. He hadn’t meant to lash out.

Not at Everan, and certainly not at Teron.

Collecting himself, he said, “Even if I did want to lead them, which I don’t, there are many more qualified than I am. ”

The corner of Everan’s mouth twitched. “Who?” He shook his head. “Cyrus, you’ve turned a nation.”

“But I can’t do anything more for them.” Cyrus ran a hand through his hair. “You talk to me like I’m the promise of a new hope. I can’t be their hope.”

Everan stepped close and put his hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. “Then be their justice. There’s still so much more to do. Help us finish this.”