Page 70 of Blood King, Part I (Crowns #4)

Fair. Cyrus had never been to Serra himself. He’d been purchased from the Shadow King and sold directly to a noble in Rael. Like an animal. He’d show them just what kind of animal he could become.

He stood as he looked at the numbers. Two hundred thousand , all held in this ruse of a kingdom—the kingdom he’d tear to the ground. And now he felt even more confident about everything. His army was growing rapidly, but he didn’t even need it.

“I’ve made sketches of the capital and of the palace,” Orion said, pulling parchments from a bag at his side. “I think you’ll find them beneficial.”

Cyrus took them and flipped through. They were probably the best drawings he’d ever seen. He looked back up at Orion.

The assassin’s frown deepened. “What?”

“You do make a rather good spy.”

Orion scowled at him.

Cyrus felt a pull come through a blood bond. Jaem. “Just a moment,” he told them as he opened his mind and pulled Jaem in. He just needed to—

“ Alexander, ” a woman’s voice called.

Cyrus froze. Ice rippled across his skin.

It wasn’t Jaem he’d let in.

He traveled the bondspace to find the Mercian queen staring back at him. She looked a little more disheveled than a queen ought to, in a wrinkled and slightly twisted golden gown. Her hair was hastily tied back behind her, and mud streaked her temple.

What was happening? How was this possible? She didn’t have his blood. She couldn’t call him. She didn’t—

Everything stopped as his eyes darted back to the streak on her temple.

It wasn’t mud.

It was blood—blood of another that allowed Cyrus to travel into minds as if it were his own blood.

The blood of his brother.

Cyrus’s heart seized in his chest.

Alexander’s blood had touched the Mercian queen.

And the Mercian queen was in the Shadowlands.

That meant Alexander was in the Shadowlands.

Cyrus felt unsteady as he opened his eyes in his study again.

“What is it?” Essandra asked, stepping around the table to him.

His pulse beat heavily in his ears. “Alexander. He’s in the Shadowlands.”

Everan and Kord gathered closer around the table.

“Did you see him?” Everan asked.

“His blood touched the queen’s skin.” His eyes were locked on his desk, but they weren’t focused on the maps strewn across it. His voice dropped to a whisper. “This is my chance.”

“What do you mean by that?” Kord asked.

But Cyrus’s mind was turning too quickly to answer. This was the closest his brother had ever been to him. Not only that, but he was in the same place as the Shadow King. If Cyrus had ever doubted fate, this was surely a sign. This was fate calling him…

“I have to go to the Shadowlands,” he said.

Essandra’s chin dropped and now she leaned forward too. “You can’t be serious.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Kord asked.

Possibly, but Cyrus didn’t care.

“We’re sitting here, planning a strike on Serra,” Kord pressed.

Cyrus shook his head. He didn’t care.

Kord gaped at him. “What makes you think you could even get into the Shadowlands?”

“They’re allied with Mercia now. If my brother is welcome, and I wear his face…” Cyrus could pass for Alexander. His heart raced even faster. “Perhaps I can even get close to the Shadow King.”

“Uh”—Kord frowned—“if your brother is bleeding, he might not be as welcome as you think.”

“I have to go.”

Essandra grabbed him. “You need to think this through.”

“I have,” he insisted. “I’ve dreamed it a thousand times over.”

“You’ve dreamed of blood. I meant an actual plan,” she said. “This could go very poorly very quickly.”

“I can’t not go. To have both my brother and the Shadow King in the same place, at the same time…” Fight flamed under his skin. To have the opportunity to kill them both…

“It’s double the risk!” she stressed. “Focus on one, then the other.”

“You shouldn’t be focused on either one of those things right now,” Kord interjected.

“And when will I have a chance at my brother if not in the Shadowlands?” he snapped. “I can’t get to him in Mercia.”

Essandra shook her head. “The council won’t support this.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling them.”

She looked at Everan and Kord in desperation, but they had nothing and were obviously still trying to put their own objections into words.

“Cyrus,” she said, gripping her temples, “you can’t go to the Shadowlands.

” She put both her hands flat on the desk and looked at him squarely.

“You’re king now. People depend on you. You can’t go flinging yourself off on a mission of self-vengeance.

It’s too great a risk. We’re still suffering attacks from nobles. You can’t just leave Rael like this.”

“I will deal with the nobles,” he promised.

“When? And you’ve just agreed to visit Gregor in a few weeks. And Kord’s right about getting into the Shadowlands. How would you even do that?”

“I’ll be back before I have to meet Gregor. And I’ll use the birds. I can be in and out through the Canyonlands in a matter of days.” He’d be forever grateful to Miriel for giving him that idea.

“The birds give you sight but they’re debilitating for you.”

“I’ll manage it. Worst case, it will only take me half a day to recover.”

“In enemy territory? Cyrus”—she shook her head again—“absolutely not.”

“I can’t do nothing! My brother and the Shadow King are finally within my reach—”

“You can’t kill the Shadow King,” Everan said flatly. “Not yet.”

Cyrus snapped his gaze to his friend.

“It would only result in a change of power,” Everan said.

“You know this. You know everything we’re all telling you.

” His dark eyes bore into Cyrus as he shook his head.

“If you’re going to do an attack like this, it needs to be carefully planned.

It needs to be a step toward bringing down the whole of the Shadowlands, something that you know for sure would crumble an alliance or throw them toward war, and not with Rael .

Killing a lord justice isn’t going to do that. It won’t be enough.”

A justice wouldn’t be enough. What would?

“Killing a queen would,” he found himself saying.

Kord threw up his hands. “What the fuck, Cyrus?”

“The Shadow King’s alliance with Mercia would crumble,” Cyrus said.

“They might even retaliate against him if they think he’s to blame.

” Cyrus turned and paced the room, his heart beating faster.

“After, I’ll come back, go to Japheth, break his alliance with Gregor.

The Shadow King will have no one. If Mercia and Aleon move against him then, that would be the fall of the Shadowlands. ”

“That’s a lot of steps that all need to work perfectly,” Kord said. “You can’t possibly think this is a good idea.”

Cyrus didn’t particularly like the idea of killing the Mercian queen.

No, she wasn’t just the Mercian queen any longer, he reminded himself.

She was the Shadow Queen now, and she’d chosen her path.

If she could forgive these atrocities, she was complicit in the crimes against him, against humanity, even if she hadn’t put the manacles on Cyrus herself.

And her death would wreck this kingdom that so greatly needed to fall.

It would wreck his brother, whose job it was to protect her.

The idea had felt hasty as he’d spoken it, but now that he was thinking it through, it seemed the only viable option.

He had to kill her.

“Cyrus, it’s too dangerous,” Essandra said, still feverishly trying to dissuade him. “You can’t seriously intend to go to the Shadowlands right now.”

But he’d never been more serious.

“I have to,” he said.

“Then send the assassins.”

“I would go to the Shadowlands,” Orion said.

Cyrus shook his head. “No. I need to see Alexander’s face. I need to watch him die.” He needed to go prepare, but Essandra slid between him and the door, stopping him from reaching for the knob.

“I can make that happen,” she said breathlessly. “I can bond you. You’d be able to see through the assassins, speak through them.”

“That’s what a coward would do.” He reached around her for the doorknob, but she grabbed his hand.

“It’s what a responsible king would do!”

“I am not a responsible king!” he snapped back.

But she didn’t quake under his storm. She only gripped him tighter. “Cyrus,” she begged. Her breaths came short and desperate. “What if you don’t come back?” She clutched him tightly. “You can’t go.”

His gaze moved back and forth between her pleading emerald eyes. He shook his head. “I won’t stay just because I might not come back.”

“Then do it because I asked you.”

Her words stilled him.

“Stay,” she whispered.

But he couldn’t.

“I’ll help you get your brother,” she said. “I’ll help you get the Shadow King. But I beg you— don’t go .” Her eyes flashed desperately. “ Stay ,” she said again.

They stood, so close, unmoving. Her hands still gripped him. Tightly.

Cyrus turned, leveling his fiery gaze on Orion.

“Prepare your men,” he told him. “You’re going to the Shadowlands to kill the Shadow Queen. And you’ll bring me the head of my brother.”