Page 53 of Blood King, Part I (Crowns #4)

Chapter forty-two

It’s time for me to leave Rael.

Cyrus nearly dropped his chalice on his plate as he tried to wrap his mind around Essandra’s words.

Visa almost did the same. “Do you really have to?” she asked.

“What? Why?” he pressed.

“You know I only ever meant to be here for a short while,” she reminded him. “It’s been months.”

“But we’re relying on the coven to feed everyone,” Cyrus said. “And there’s still so much left here for you. We’ve just begun building the schools—”

“You’ve always known the support of the coven was temporary. And the schools will be fine without me. As will everyone here.”

Cyrus shook his head. “I won’t.”

The room grew quiet.

Kord rose slowly. “I’m… not hungry anymore. And I have… stuff to do.” He eyed the plate, then picked it up. “I am going to take my food, though.” And he quickly left the room.

Everan and Visa rose too. “We’re going to go help Kord do his stuff,” Everan said, and they followed. The rest of his men quickly did the same.

When Cyrus and Essandra were alone, she finally turned her gaze on him.

“Why are you really leaving?” he asked.

“It’s time. I should have left already.”

“That’s not an answer.” He sighed as he shook his head. “What are you afraid of?”

She set her table linen down beside her plate and smoothed it flat. Of course she wouldn’t tell him.

“I know you’re reacting,” he said. “I know you’re scared of something. But you’re safe here. I would never let anything happen to you.”

She gave a soft laugh. “You are so naive to this world.”

“Whatever it is, don’t let it win. Don’t give up on getting your family back because—”

“I’m not giving them up!”

Cyrus sat back in his chair. “You need my power. You need me to take you to the trees.”

“I don’t need your power for the spell, and I’ll figure out another way to get back to the trees.”

“You’re only making it harder on yourself.” Cyrus stood, leaning his weight over the table. “Can you really tell me that you don’t want to stay?”

“Of course I want to stay,” she said. “I just… I can’t.”

“You can at least stay until you get the spell to work. You still have time.”

She shook her head. “I don’t.”

“Whatever you’re running from isn’t here now. Twenty-three years you’ve spent trying to bring back your family. Give yourself a little more time.”

“I don’t have time!”

“And if you leave and set yourself back, you’ll have even less time.”

She shook her head again.

“You’re so close,” he said.

Her green eyes stared back at him.

“Just a little more time,” he repeated. “You’re so close.”

She swallowed as she looked back down at the table linen. She smoothed it again.

“You can do this,” he said softly.

Her eyes moved to her chalice, back to her plate, then finally back to him.

“Essandra. Stay. Just a little while longer.”

She pulled her lip between her teeth. “A little while longer, I suppose,” she whispered.

Cyrus lumbered out of the council room, feeling like it was the only place he ever was. He knew he’d committed to this, but if he had to sit through one more meeting where they talked about land distribution…

He paused when he saw Kord and Hephain striding toward him.

“Where were you two?” Cyrus asked. If he had to sit through dull-as-fuck council meetings, they did too.

“You need to come,” Kord told him. “Something’s wrong with one of the assassins.”

“What is it?” Essandra asked, coming up alongside them.

“You have to see,” Kord insisted.

The corridors weren’t any brighter during the day. The weight of the arena kept them dark, and they were lit only by the torchlight along the main walls. Cyrus and Essandra followed Kord and Hephain to the assassins’ cell, where Bash stood waiting just outside.

Orion, the lead assassin, met them at the bars. “I told you that we couldn’t stay here!” he said angrily.

Cyrus ignored him and looked inside to where one of the men lay curled on the damp stone ground.

“Do you see now? This is what happens!”

But Cyrus didn’t see. A man on the ground meant nothing.

Kord opened the cell with his sword drawn.

If this was a ploy, Cyrus would just kill them all and be done with this.

But none of the assassins moved.

“Get him up,” Kord told Bash.

Bash entered the cell and pulled the man up, who stood unsteadily and needed help to remain up.

Even in the torchlight, Cyrus could see the sweat beading across his brow.

Bash dragged him out into the corridor and pulled up the man’s sleeve to show his forearm.

Then Cyrus saw it.

The assassin’s mark wasn’t the crisp rune symbol it had been before. It was spreading, as if bleeding poison into his skin. Half the man’s forearm had turned black.

“This is what happens when we don’t answer the call,” Orion said. “You have to let us out! This is a warning. If he doesn’t go, he’ll die. The mark bonds us. He only has a matter of days.”

Essandra’s eyes were on the man’s arm. She remained silent, her face giving away nothing.

“You have to let us go,” Orion pressed again. “At least let him go.”

Cyrus wouldn’t be letting any of them go. He gave a nod toward the cell, and Bash shoved the man back into it.

Essandra stood with her arms crossed.

“Are you all right?” Cyrus asked her quietly.

She didn’t answer.

“Come on,” he said and walked her toward the exit.

“Please,” Orion called through the bars. “You have to let him go!”

Cyrus ignored him.

“Essandra!” the assassin called. “Essandra!”

Cyrus ripped his sword from its scabbard and had it to Orion’s throat before he could utter another word. “You don’t speak to her,” he snarled.

The assassin swallowed, holding up his hands and stepping back from the bars. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. There was a desperation to him now. “Let my men go, and I’ll stay.”

Cyrus eyed him curiously. “Are you not afraid to die?”

“We’re not afraid to die. We’re afraid to die for nothing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come here,” Cyrus said.

Cyrus ran his hand roughly through his hair and over his face. His eyes couldn’t focus on the parchments in front of him anymore. His body begged for sleep, but he knew if he let himself fall into his bed, it wouldn’t come.

In the morning, he’d be on a ship for Pryam to pursue the opportunity for an alliance.

Now that the time was here, he couldn’t help but feel a little unsettled—not about the potential alliance, or the discussion of common goals.

No. It was something far more insignificant or, rather, something that should be insignificant—the prospect of marriage.

He shouldn’t be anxious about the concept.

People got married all the time. He’d fought in the arena.

He’d overthrown a king. He could manage a woman.

But it wasn’t just the woman. He feared the changes this woman would bring. Not changes to Rael, not changes to his plans. Just… other changes. Changes he didn’t want. Changes with Essandra.

And he struggled under the weight of expectation. Was this just the discussion of marriage? Would he come back with a wife? Where would she sleep? If she wanted his chamber, where would he sleep?

He felt like an idiot, and he cursed himself.

Surely no other king worried about where he’d sleep or what to do with a wife. He should be focused on much more important things—this meeting with Morak or, even more important, how to build his army.

He cursed himself again and kicked out his stride through the main hall.

Who cared about the woman? If Morak would give him an army, he’d do whatever the king of Pryam wanted.

As he rounded a corner, he saw Hephain. “Where is everyone?” he asked when he reached him.

“Kord just left to tend to some things. He sent Brant and Sergen to check on our men guarding the fields, Bash and Ram are assessing the wagon routes, and I haven’t seen Everan.”

“All right.”

Hephain smiled.

Cyrus eyed him. “You seem in a good mood.” He’d rarely seen Hephain in a bad mood, but today he seemed particularly bright.

Hephain’s smile widened. “It’s just a good day.”

Cyrus nodded slowly. He supposed people could have good days.

He turned.

“Cyrus.”

He stopped.

Hephain shuffled, glancing at the ground, then back up at him.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For taking a chance on me, for giving me this opportunity. I’m living a life I’d never dared to dream of, with a love I never thought I’d have, and I just…

I just wanted to let you know that it’s because of you. ”

Cyrus lost his words for a moment. “I…” He smiled and nodded. Cuffing Hephain on the shoulder, he said, “This makes me happy to hear. I’m happy for you.”

Hephain nodded back.

A call sounded behind him. “Cyrus!”

He turned to see Kord walking quickly toward him.

“Do you know about the assassins?” Kord asked before he’d even reached him.

Cyrus wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. “Is the one dead?”

“Uh, more like… healed.”

Cyrus stilled.

“Their marks are gone.”