Page 48 of Blood King, Part I (Crowns #4)

Chapter thirty-seven

“Where were you?”

Cyrus looked up from the parchments on his desk to see Essandra in the doorway of his study. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see her. He’d expected someone would come after he’d ignored yet another council meeting. “Have you not found me?”

She pursed her lips, curving them upward but not smiling. “Let me rephrase. Why weren’t you at the council meeting?”

“What’s the purpose of having a council if I have to go to everything, and be involved in everything?”

“You certainly don’t go to everything. And you’re not involved in anything.”

“They can speak their grievances to Ruth.” Out of everyone on his council, he was most appreciative to have his magistrate. She wasn’t just another voice in his ear; she actually did things. She saw something that needed done and she did it. Like Essandra.

“You can’t just throw everything on Ruth,” Essandra said. “And this isn’t a grievance. The council needs you to make decisions. And the people want a present king; they need someone to help them.”

Cyrus stood. “What else do people want from me? I’ve given them freedom.”

Essandra sighed and moved across the room to him. “Cyrus, it’s not enough to free them. We’re talking about people who’ve been slaves their entire lives. They’ve been exposed to so little. They haven’t been privileged like you—”

“You think I’m privileged?”

“You know how to read. You know how things work. You understand the dynamics of power. You know how to get what you want. Yes, that’s privilege.

” She shook her head. “These people don’t know how to live in freedom.

You have to feed them, educate them, teach them to participate in society.

They might be free from their chains, but they’re not free from the shackles of unknowing and inability. ”

“What would you have me do?”

“Build this kingdom.”

“I am!” he insisted, his voice growing louder.

“No, you’re not!” she cut back, her tone matching his.

“You’re leaving—why do you even care?”

“Because I don’t want to see you fail!”

Her words quieted him. Still, he was frustrated. He leaned his weight onto the edge of the desk. “I gave them land.”

“That doesn’t even scratch the surface. It’s not enough to sweep up dead bodies, throw up more buildings, give them homes, and grow crops.”

“That sounds like a lot to me.”

“They need to learn trades and commerce, learn to build lives for themselves. We need to provide training and open schools.”

“I don’t have time to teach people to read.” It had been months now, and he was no closer to getting Alexander. Or the Shadow King. Anger burned across his skin. “You promised you would help me bring down the Shadow King.”

“I did not—”

“You promised to give me a world of kings !”

“And then you went and promised refuge to slaves worldwide without the ability to support them!”

Cyrus quieted again and sat back in his chair. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was angry but not at her. She spoke truly. He just felt… stuck.

She drew in a deep breath of her own. “I will help you. We help each other, remember? But there are things you have to do first, and those things take time.”

He knew she was right; he just didn’t like it. He didn’t have time. He wasn’t sure how long fate would give him.

Her voice came softer now. “You don’t think I know how hard it is to wait?”

Guilt pooled in his stomach. Perhaps she knew the most.

“Fine,” he said.

“And you have to work with your council,” she added.

“All they do is judge me. And get in my way.”

“All they do is try to get you to do what’s best for Rael. Have you even looked at the proposed infrastructure changes?”

He almost groaned. So many requests were included in a thick stack of parchments that now sat in the corner of his desk. Parchments that he hadn’t read yet.

“I’ll look at them,” he said.

“Cyrus.”

“I said I’ll look at them.”

The fight between them faded.

“On one condition,” he added.

She sighed. “What’s that?”

“You build your school too.”

Essandra stilled—still as the stone in the statue gardens. “What?”

“Your school for people with abilities.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she opened it again. “I need to wait for my sister—”

“No.” He shook his head. “Build it so that when you finally bring her back, it’s here and it’s ready.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. As I’ve told you—wherever you want—it’s yours. Inside the capital, outside the capital, it doesn’t matter. Wherever you want.”

There was still objection written all over her face. “It would take resources you need for—”

“It doesn’t matter. Build it. If you need money, I’ll let Fatim know.”

“Cyrus—”

“If you need physical labor, we have hands arriving daily. Ram will arrange it for you.”

“Cyrus—”

“Do it. Do it for yourself.”

“I can’t stay here,” she blurted.

He wasn’t sure why that knifed him so. She’d been clear from the very beginning. Maybe he’d thought she’d change her mind, although he wasn’t sure when he’d started wanting her to change her mind.

“I mean, I’m not leaving yet,” she said. “But eventually. You know?”

Right. He’d known this. He’d always known.

“And you don’t even have a regular school,” she added. She glanced at the stack of parchments. “It’s in the infrastructure proposal.”

His words wouldn’t come right now.

She stepped to the desk, biting her lip. “If you do approve the council’s request for a school, I’d like to be involved,” she said. “I’d actually really enjoy it.”

He nodded. “Of course. Maybe it will convince you to stay and build your own.”

She smiled. A sad smile. “Maybe.”

But he knew a lie when he heard one.

“Oh,” she said, “I also wanted to let you know that I’m ready to bring your men trapped in Mercia through the portal. Or at least try.”

“Really?” Cyrus stood. “You could have led with that.”

“I could have.” She gave a small smile. “But I wanted to scold you first.”

He snorted. “Of course you did.” He couldn’t help giving a small smile back.

“Truly, though, this is excellent.” The council would be relieved.

Cyrus certainly was. However, he wasn’t looking forward to having Bravat back in Rael.

Still, it would be a weight off his chest not to worry about more of his men being captured, or Rael being discovered and risking war.

“They’ll have to meet us at the stone circle,” she told him.

He nodded. “I’ll tell Jaem.”

“Good. Just let me know when they’re ready.”

He nodded again. “Can I walk you to dinner?”

She raised her brows. “I didn’t realize it was that time. Sure.”

As she stepped to turn, the edge of her gown caught on the corner of a stack of parchments, sending them to the floor.

“I’m sorry.” She stooped to pick them up.

“No, let me,” he said, and dropped to a knee in front of her. But after he’d gathered them, he paused, looking up at her.

Her eyes flashed with something he couldn’t read.

“What? Are you enjoying this?” he teased. “A king kneeling before you?”

She pulled the corner of her lip between her teeth. “Maybe.” Her eyes briefly fluttered shut before flashing the same look again. With more heat this time. And suddenly, Cyrus knew exactly what that look was.

Desire.

A smile crept across his face. He rose slowly, not stepping away from her, all too aware of how closely they stood now.

Her eyes followed him up, and her lips parted.

He leaned even closer to her to slide the parchments back onto the desk behind her.

Her gaze traveled his face, from his eyes to his lips. It stayed on his lips.

He leaned even closer. She didn’t stop him.

Cyrus dropped his head to hers. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

She gave ever the faintest shake of her head. “No,” she whispered.

This woman…

Want clawed at him, but he forced it down.

“You can unfasten your belt, though,” she said.

He almost laughed, but she was completely serious.

Essandra shifted back slightly onto his desk, ruffling up her skirts and pulling off her undergarments.

Cyrus didn’t need to be told again. His whole body came alive, and his desire took over.

He unfastened his belt and pulled loose the ties, freeing himself.

Essandra reached down and wrapped her hand around him, and his eyes dropped heavily as a wave of need coursed through him. She fought the layers of fabric and guided him to her. As he sank inside her, they both shuddered.

She stayed upright, leaning back slightly with one hand on the desk behind her, the other hand holding back her dress. She rocked her hips against him, and he started to move.

“Slowly,” she told him.

Cyrus moved as slowly as he could. He gripped the edge of the desk, his hands on either side of her. He didn’t touch her, but he leaned closer. He couldn’t help himself. Everything about her called to him—her warmth, her scent, the sound of her breaths. He needed this woman.

She put a hand over his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Like what?

“Faster,” she said.

He quickened, his own need building.

“Faster,” she panted.

He moved even faster. Harder. Deeper. Her breaths came quicker, then she paused.

She tightened around him, letting out a cry of his name.

He was ready with his own release and came with her.

Over the edge. Everything within him lit fire as a deep tremor shook through him.

He chased it to the end. Then they stilled, panting.

It was all he could do not to put his arms around her. Not to give into the need to hold her close to him.

They cooled in the silence, with only the sound of their breaths. Until Essandra pushed him off. She slipped out from between him and the desk, quickly smoothing her dress and fixing her undergarments.

He couldn’t help a chuckle. “It’s amusing how you both want me and detest me at the same time.”

She paused. “I don’t detest you.”

“Then why won’t you let me kiss you?”

“Because I can’t let myself fall in love with you.”

She said it so matter-of-factly, yet it was so unexpected. She swallowed, quickly turning her attention back to herself, but as she fixed her clothing, Cyrus could only stand there, still leaning on the desk, staring at her.

The door to the study opened. “There you are!” Visa exclaimed. “I was just checking to see if you were going to make it to dinner.”

Cyrus didn’t turn, keeping his back to the door, but he hastily fastened his clothing and rebuckled his belt.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Visa said. “I didn’t mean to… interrupt anything—”

“No, you’re fine.” Essandra swept toward her. “We were just on our way.”

They stepped out into the hall, and Cyrus took a moment to gather himself before he finally followed after.

The women chatted in front of him as they walked toward the dining hall. They’d become close over the past months, with Visa sometimes assisting Essandra in her work.

Cyrus heard their words, but he couldn’t follow the conversation.

His mind was still on what Essandra had told him.

She couldn’t fall in love with him. He’d be lying if he denied the disappointment, but this was how things had to be.

It was better this way. Fate had given him an opportunity, and he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted from that opportunity.

They reached the dining hall. It was alive with conversation. Cyrus remembered when he’d thought the table was possibly too big to fill, but over the months, more had joined them.

Hephain sat quietly across from Kord. He didn’t talk much, although he wore a warm smile and was quick to laugh. Sergen usually sat beside him, another quiet one.

As for everyone else—they weren’t so quiet.

But Cyrus didn’t mind. He liked the energy of all of them together.

He liked their laughter. And it took the pressure off everyone looking to him for how to act or how to feel.

It allowed him to sit in his thoughts. Especially when something occupied his thoughts.

His eyes drifted to Essandra, who took the seat to his right.

It was her usual place. Cyrus had previously offered for her to invite her coven, although there was barely room for them all now, but Cyrus didn’t care.

They’d bring another table, more chairs.

However, the coven preferred to keep to themselves, eating on their own, leaving Essandra the only one who took her meals in the palace dining hall.

Cyrus forced himself not to stare at her and instead focused his attention on piling food onto his plate.

If he tried, he could still feel her. No—he didn’t even have to try. Her warmth still lingered on him. Her fire, her need, her scent.

She shifted in her chair, and he wondered if she still felt him too. She certainly had to feel the part of him he’d spilled inside her.

His body hardened again just thinking about it.

He didn’t know how she could act like nothing had just happened between them, her hand around her fork as though it hadn’t just been wrapped around the most intimate part of him. Her voice carried on in conversation as though it hadn’t just cried out his name.

He understood one thing, though.

She wasn’t going to let herself have feelings for him.

He couldn’t either.