Page 14

14

The New Era

A storia walked back to her room after an awkward lunch with Cyrus—at his request—where he mistook her moodiness for offense at Lord Garrett’s insult and tried to reassure her. Astoria had snapped at him, telling him she was alright and that she especially didn’t need his cajoling.

Cyrus merely smiled before continuing with what he was about to say, mentioning that Lord Garrett had been practically throwing his daughter in Cyrus’ path at every opportunity, hoping Cyrus would fall in love with the girl and marry her. The man must be very disappointed that Cyrus went behind everyone’s back and chose a bride for himself. He also mentioned that he had banned the man from setting foot in the palace for a year.

Astoria didn’t know how to react to this, so she focused on her food and showed no sign of listening to him. Cyrus didn’t seem to mind, nor did he reprimand her for her indifference.

Astoria still didn’t know the man she had married, what game he was playing, or what her role in it was. All she knew was that her husband had won. Again.

And she hated it.

When she reached the safety of her room, she shut the door behind her and sagged against it. Skylar was nowhere in sight. She assumed he was tailing Spyrah despite his complaints about her. Suddenly feeling weak, she slid down and hugged her knees to her chest.

What had her life turned into?

The thought made a lone tear slip from her eye.

If she was here because of the prophecy, how exactly was she to play her part? What was she supposed to do? Who was there to guide her towards its fulfillment? Was she on her own?

Astoria had never felt so lonely and helpless before. Cyrus was a mastermind. Every game she played with him, she lost. She had lost to him from the start, and much to her dismay, she realized that she didn’t have it in her for another game where he was going to beat her again.

However, no more games didn’t mean she was giving up. It wasn’t an option. To keep herself going, she had to keep fighting. Just not the same way. She would have to figure out something else.

Only, she didn’t know how.

* * *

It felt like her wedding day all over again. Except, she was alone this time.

Astoria stood in front of the black double doors of the throne room, clad in the heaviest dress she had ever worn. It was probably the long black cloak with lavender-grey fur on its edges and the gleaming silver dragon emblem on the back. She couldn’t wait to take it off after the ceremony, flag-changing, and greeting the people from the battlements.

An ache began to form in her temples. Was it frm the hairpins or the elegantly braided bun Emily had pulled over her head to situate the heavy crown that awaited her?

When the doors opened, Astoria took a deep breath and walked in.

Everyone turned towards her, but she kept her gaze forward. Cyrus stood on the dais, waiting for her, in all his glory as the Emperor of Draken. She scolded herself for staring at him like she had on her wedding day. But it was as impossible as not breathing in the oxygen her lungs so badly wanted.

He was clad in black too, a cloak similar to hers clasped around his shoulders. A golden crown that looked too heavy for him rested on his head. Two locks of hair fell over his forehead, touching his dark brows, and adding another layer to the allure of his beauty.

Perhaps… it was time she accepted the fact that her husband was handsome. Alright, he was the most attractive man she had ever seen. And black suited him—very much.

She stopped at the base of the dais, holding his eyes that smiled down at her even as his face remained expressionless. He climbed down the steps to her and stopped on the last one.

“Do you, Princess Astoria of Daliston, swear your allegiance to the empire of Draken? Do you promise to rule with wisdom and compassion, to uphold justice, and to protect the people of this land with all your strength? Will you stand by my side, through triumphs and trials, as my equal and partner in all things?”

“I do,” she said without hesitation, holding his intense gaze.

Cyrus’ lips twitched with the desire to smirk or smile, but he maintained the cold exterior as he turned to Rowan, who held her crown on a silky, black pillow. He took it with care and turned back to her.

“Then, by the power vested in me as Emperor of Draken, I crown you, Astoria of Daliston, as Empress Astoria of Draken.”

Astoria bowed her head and bent slightly. Cyrus placed the bejeweled crown, adorned with diamonds and centered with an onyx, on her head.

“All hail Empress Astoria!” he proclaimed, and chants filled the room.

Astoria rose to her full height, her head surprisingly heavy with the weight of the crown, and locked eyes with Cyrus. He took her hands, led her up the dais, and turned towards the steps leading up to the two silver thrones. A black dragon perched on top of them, each of its front claws clutching the head of each throne, its wings stretched out wide as though ready to take flight.

Cyrus let go of her hand as they reached the thrones and turned to face the chanting crowd before sitting down. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she felt as though the throne was made for her—that she was born to sit on it.

As though reading her mind, Cyrus leaned in and said, “I just knew you were my Empress the moment I laid my eyes on you.” His breath brushed her ear. “Are you ready for the flag-changing ceremony?”

She turned to him and gave him a cold smile. “I was born ready.”

Cyrus had asked her to return all the banners in the throne room to their original colours after the drama with Lord Garrett. Astoria complied without protest. She didn’t know why she had agreed. Was she too weak to fight, or was it because he promised they would raise the new flag together in front of their people after her coronation? He also promised her the honor of changing the colours of the flags throughout the empire immediately after.

But Astoria told him he could have the honor himself. She would only change the flags and banners inside and outside the palace.

Astoria still didn’t understand his games.

They stepped out of the palace together and crossed the courtyard to the stairs leading up to the battlements. Astoria could hear the people’s anticipation from beyond the wall. When the trumpet blasted and she and Cyrus came into view, the crowd erupted into cheers.

She was overwhelmed at the sight of them. This—this was nothing compared to the crowds she had seen in her duels. It seemed like the entire kingdom had gathered outside the palace walls to see them, leaving not a single space unoccupied. The crowd stretched out into the distance, their figures so small they looked like ants from her vantage point.

How in the realms were the people in the back going to see them?

“Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empress!” they all shouted, even the kids who perched on the shoulders of their parents.

They seemed joyous as they looked up at Cyrus with beaming faces. Was this an illusion? How could these people cheer on the man who had overthrown their former king and invaded their kingdom?

Astoria barely hid her bafflement. They all looked up at him like he was their true leader.

She stole a glance at him and saw him wave at his people with a small smile on his face. Small, but genuine. He even looked calm and relaxed.

Maybe… maybe they were chanting on his command. No one in their right mind would cheer for him from their hearts.

Just then, a different chant rose from the crowd, then another. Astoria realized that people were calling out to him individually. She picked up on some of them.

“May the Creator be gracious to Your Imperial Majesties!”

“May your generations be blessed and sit on the throne of the Draken empire for the ages to come!”

Astoria staggered back slightly, but Cyrus’ arm around her kept her in place. What?

“May Your Majesties’ descendants be as gracious and just as His Imperial Majesty!”

“May the Creator bless your golden soul!”

Astoria gaped at the crowd as they continued shouting different blessings to her and Cyrus.

This wasn’t an illusion, was it? These people were insane .

“May the Creator strike down anyone who rises against you! May the empire of Draken reign forever!”

Cyrus cleared his throat and called back to them, his voice amplified by magic. “Thank you, my people! I am humbled by your love. You have overwhelmed mine and the Empress’ hearts with your blessings. May the Creator show us all His favor and continue to bless the empire of Draken!”

“You are His favor to us!” someone shouted from the crowd. Others joined him in agreement and chanted, “Bless the Creator! Long live the Emperor and the Empress!”

Astoria placed a hand on the stone railing to brace herself. Her knees shook.

Cyrus raised a hand in the air and the crowd’s chant died out.

“This day marks the beginning of a new era in my reign as I give you my beautiful wife, Astoria, as Empress of Draken. In her honor, for the light she has shed in my life from the day I laid my eyes on her, we present you with the new flag of the empire. A symbol of hope, joy, and love. This should’ve been my first choice for the flag when I rose to the throne six years ago, but then again, everything has a time as the old saying goes. And I couldn’t be more honored to do this together with my Empress.”

Cyrus turned his eyes to her at his last words, his voice dropping into a gentle tone. Coos and sighs rose from the crowd. Astoria fought the urge to glare at him and forced a smile instead.

“I know what you are doing, and it’s not going to work.”

He matched her grin, but it didn’t look forced. “Trust me, darling. You don’t know what I am doing.” Before she could respond, he added, “Shall we raise our new flag?”

Astoria put on her best smile. “Lead the way.”

Cyrus led them towards the flagpole, where the newly designed flag of the empire waited to be raised. They both grabbed hold of the rope and on Cyrus’ count of three, they pulled on it together. The flag flew up and danced proudly in the air.

A black dragon against the backdrop of lavender-grey.

Gasps of awe rose from the crowd. The chanting proceeded.

“Your turn, Little Dragon,” Cyrus murmured in her ear.

Astoria leaned away from him and faced the foreboding palace, her back to the crowd. She raised her hands in the air and swapped the colour of the flags.

She turned to Cyrus. “Your turn, Big Dragon.”

Cyrus gave her a crooked grin and turned to the crowd. He formed a lavender-grey ball of light between his hands, stroking it until it grew bigger and bigger, and released it heavenward. It exploded like a firework. A thousand sparks hovered above them and shot in different directions. Some of them rained downward and swapped the colour of every flag in the square.

The crowd’s chanting went wild. Astoria was astonished, too.

Then, the chanting took on a different note.

“Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!”

Astoria’s eyes widened in horror, but she masked it before anyone could notice. Cyrus chuckled, slid his arm around her waist, and turned her to him.

“Don’t. Even. Think. About it,” she gritted through her teeth.

Cyrus’ smile was unrepentant. “I have no choice. Our people are asking.”

“Doesn’t mean they should get it; you will spoil them,” she protested.

His eyes turned playful. “I have spoiled my people enough over the last six years. One more time wouldn’t hurt. Why else do you think they blessed me instead of cursing me like they did their former king?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

“One day you will,” he said and dipped her backwards.

Astoria let out a startled gasp and grabbed the clasp of his cloak for support. She stared at him wildly. “What are you—”

“Relax, I’m not going to kiss you—at least, not your lips,” he said, his eyes still playful. “But if we have to sell our kiss to the crowd, we need to make it look real.”

She panicked. “I don’t know how—”

“Wrap one arm around my neck and tilt your head. Leave the rest to me.”

“Can you not simply cast an illusion?” She didn’t trust leaving the rest to him.

Cyrus shot her a devious smile and brought his face down to hers. Astoria’s heart beat like it would burst out of her chest.

“Now.”

She wrapped her arm around his neck helplessly and felt his lips press to the corner of her mouth.

Her heart stopped momentarily, remembering the first time he had kissed her on their wedding day. While that one had been brief, this time, his lips lingered on her skin longer, angling his head to make it look like they were sharing a passionate kiss.

When he pulled away and straightened her, Astoria saw the intensity burning in Cyrus’ eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. She had seen that look several times over the last week but failed to decipher its meaning.

Most of all, she wondered why he had avoided kissing her mouth. He knew it would agitate her. While she was thankful, why hadn’t he taken advantage of the chance?

“I swore to myself after I kissed you at our wedding that the next time I kissed you, it would be with your consent,” he said, as though reading her mind.

Astoria snapped out of her daze. “In your dreams,” she spat, letting her arms fall.

She reached up her hand and was surprised to find her crown still perched on her head, steady as ever. Cyrus’s gaze followed her motion. His eyes gleamed. She stiffened. He must have supported it. Somehow, that realization unsettled her even more, and she quickly dropped her hand.

Cyrus grinned. “Just remember that I could’ve taken advantage of this and didn’t.”

“Oh, what do you want? My gratitude?” she hissed through a pasted-on smile, keeping her eyes on the crowd.

“Your trust.”

Astoria couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her. “Like that’s ever going to happen.”

Cyrus’ sigh fell on her ears. “Not today. But one day, Little Dragon, I will earn your trust.”

Astoria ignored the strange flutter in her stomach at the softness of his words, as well as the urge to reply to him. There was no point. He’d have to see it for himself.

* * *

Astoria couldn’t wait to retreat to her room. Sleep sounded tempting. She was more worn out than she had been on her wedding day. However, every time Cyrus caught her eye, she masked her exhaustion with a look reserved for a Princess-turned-Empress.

She missed Emmett today more than ever. On occasions like this, he had been her sole confidant, the one who chased off unwanted men from her and danced with her as much as she wanted to, so she wouldn’t feel left out. She missed even Silas. Astoria hated that she couldn’t remember her middle brother without remembering that her husband had used the same name for his deceit.

She missed how Silas would catch her eye across the dance floor. He would silently ask her for the next dance so he could excuse himself from the daughter of the Earl who annoyed him by constantly vying for his attention. Sometimes, he would appear at her elbow out of nowhere and grab her arm, saying, “Dance with me before Lady Riana catches me.”

When each dance was over, he’d escort her out of the dance floor and leave without even a thank you .

Astoria smiled sadly from her throne, watching the couples twirling on the dance floor. If she wasn’t careful, her mind would conjure up an illusion of Silas among them with his pleading eyes on her and Emmett glaring at every man who dared to look her way.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“No,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the dancing couples.

“If you want to get down there and dance, say the word.”

“No,” she repeated.

“At least tell me what has got you smiling solemnly so I can see what I can do about it.”

Astoria finally turned to look at Cyrus and found his eyes on her. “My brothers. I miss them.”

He raised a curious eyebrow. “May I ask what memory elicited that smile?”

If he was expecting her to lower her guard by weaving into that topic, he was a fool. She narrowed her eyes. “Nothing that I feel inclined to share with you.”

Cyrus stared at her for a moment, his gaze assessing her before he stood and called it a night. He offered her his arm and led them out of the throne room through the back. Astoria glanced at him and was surprised to find him furious.

What had she done or said that made him angry when everything she had done to push his buttons, irritate, and provoke him hadn’t?

“Are you alright?” she asked him before she could stop it.

Cyrus threw her a glare. “Why do you care? You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell me when you are exhausted and want to retreat to the chambers.”

Astoria swayed back in surprise and dug her heels into the floor to stop herself from moving with him. “What?”

Cyrus paused and pivoted to her, his dark eyes stormy. “I bet you often think about him, too. That Jasper.”

Astoria’s mouth fell open. “Oh, I am sorry !” she exclaimed in disbelief. “What is your problem? Me missing my brothers, whom I haven’t seen in one whole week because you kidnapped me to your empire?”

They glared at each other, neither backing down for a moment. Then, Cyrus closed his eyes and sighed. He turned his head away, took a step back, and ran a hand through his hair, messing it from its perfection. He opened his eyes and met her gaze with a weary expression.

“I think we are both exhausted from a long day,” he murmured. At Astoria’s steady glare, he sighed and added, “I overreacted.”

That was the closest thing to an apology she would get from him. Astoria decided not to be greedy and accepted it. She heaved a loud sigh and nodded, averting her gaze. “Let’s go, then.”

“Wait,” he said, grabbing her wrist as she moved past him.

Astoria turned to him, and the next moment, her feet were swept off the floor. She gasped and almost exclaimed his name but stopped herself. He didn’t deserve another win.

“Put me down!”

“You are exhausted, Astoria, and you expect me to walk you all the way to our chambers when I can carry you?” he said firmly, and she no longer liked that tone of his voice after hearing the gentler ones.

“I would rather have you float me than have you carry me.”

Cyrus’ lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. She protested all the way, but it was no use.

Emily had been waiting in Astoria’s room. Her eyes widened as Cyrus carried Astoria inside. “Is Her Majesty alright?” she asked, concerned.

“Yes, Emily, would you please give me a moment alone with my wife?” Cyrus spoke before Astoria could respond. She snapped her mouth shut and looked at him incredulously as Emily curtsied and scurried out of the room.

He placed her on the bed.

“Stop looking at me like I said something scandalous,” he admonished her gently. “We are married, need I remind you?”

He unclasped his cloak and took off his crown, and placed them both at the foot of her bed.

She eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Cyrus sat down and grabbed her ankles. She squeaked and tried to tug them free from his hold.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you!” He widened his eyes to underscore his words and held her feet firmly on his lap.

“You are touching me!” She stared at him, horrified. What was he doing?

“I call this an apology gesture.” He gave her a small smile, one that made him look slightly vulnerable, and began to take off her shiny black slippers. “You’re not exactly on the list of people who will receive a verbal apology from me. So, until you do, whenever I mess up, this will be how I make it up to you—my apology gestures.”

“And let me guess, you plan on messing up more in the future so it would give you an excuse to touch me.” Her words didn’t have the desired sharpness as his hands began to massage her feet, and her voice became breathy.

A smirk tugged at Cyrus’ lips, and he looked up at her from her feet. “Well, I cannot say I didn’t consider— hey !” He grasped her ankles firmly as she tried to pull them back and let out a huff of laughter. “Don’t jump to conclusions. I didn’t even finish what I was saying. So, as I was saying, I cannot say I didn’t consider it, but I decided against it because I’m an honorable man. Even though we are married and I could take advantage of you, I will not.”

His words didn’t take her off the edge, but she didn’t ask him to stop what he was doing either. Astoria curled her hands on the bedspread and sat with her back stiff, watching his movements with caution. If he did something he wasn’t supposed to do, she would act. Surely, defending herself wouldn’t count as attacking him.

His hands massaging her feet made her whole body burn and tingle strangely as though he was running his hands all over her. Was he using a healing spell for sore feet? That would explain the tingling effect.

Cyrus looked from her feet to her face again. “Lie back and relax. You won’t know you can trust me until you let me prove myself to you.”

So she relaxed, and eventually closed her eyes as she leaned her back against the propped-up pillows, but only after throwing him a warning glare.

“Feeling better?” he asked after a few minutes, his voice so soft and calm it barely sounded like his.

Astoria had to crack her eyes open to ensure he was still him before she hummed her response, unable to form a verbal one.

A few moments later, Astoria felt the warmth bathing her body reach towards her heart. She opened her eyes and found him looking at her, with a strange, almost solemn look in his eyes.

She startled a little. What was going on in his mind? She didn’t dare ask. Something told her she would rather not know the answer.

Their eyes locked. Neither of them looked away. As the moments stretched, the warmth flooded her heart even more.

Cyrus was lifting her feet off his lap and shifting closer to her, not breaking their eye contact. Astoria didn’t stop him, didn’t move away, didn’t even ask what he was doing.

He reached her slowly, almost hesitantly, as if he were testing the waters; like he expected her to push away from him at any moment.

But Astoria stayed in her place. Something anchored her there, and even if she wanted to, she couldn’t move. Strangely enough, she didn’t want to move.

Tension crackled in the air between them. Cyrus sat as close to her as possible, and at some point, Astoria straightened herself from her leaning position too.

Cyrus lifted a hand to the side of her head and touched her hair. “May I?”

She could only nod.

His fingers began to take the pins out of her hair gently, one by one, and set them on the bed where she had already placed her crown. With each pin that came down, each lock of hair fell until it framed her face. Cyrus’ fingers undid her intricate braids with utmost care and concentration, and combed through her tresses.

His eyes moved to hers, and Astoria lost what little air she had in her lungs at the soft, adoring, yet intense look that filled his eyes.

Then he smiled.

Her heart stopped for a moment.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice so quietly reverent Astoria barely heard it. “You are so beautiful.”

Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his fingers tangling in her hair as he did. “Goodnight, Little Dragon,” he murmured and pulled back to look at her. “Dream of me.”

For the first time since they started this ridiculous routine, Astoria could only stare at him, unable to form her usual response.

Even as he stood, gathered his belongings, and walked through their interconnected door to his room, she remained speechless. He glanced back at her over his shoulder before closing the door behind him, and still, she couldn’t muster a single thought.

All she could do was stare at the door that separated them.