Page 20 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)

Nineteen

IS SHE ASLEEP? CYRUS ASKED .

Yes, sire.

Deep in slumber? he asked Zahra. Not merely dozing? Because earlier you said she was waking every few minutes—

No, sire. Zahra, the dragon carrying Alizeh and Deen, was beginning to sound annoyed. As I said the last time you asked: she appears well and truly asleep now. For what it’s worth, she hasn’t stirred in at least thirty minutes.

You need not take that tone , said Cyrus stiffly.

Hells, but his heart ached like an injury in his chest.

He drew the cold night air into his lungs and turned his gaze upon the heavens, which were thick with glittering stars—and flickering fireflies. Cyrus returned his eyes to the inky seas ahead of him, searching for one firefly in particular.

As a precaution during their midnight passage, Hazan’s bioluminescent pet had been directed to fly ahead of them, probing the skies for danger in advance of their approach.

She returned at intervals to confirm their flight path was clear, assuaging their fears.

But the firefly had been gone for some time now, and Cyrus was growing anxious.

You might trust me to do my job , Zahra was saying, sounding only a little chastised. I won’t let the queen come to harm.

I know you’d never intend to , Cyrus countered. It’s only that she is no ordinary rider—

That was made clear enough on your wedding day, sire , said Amir, one of his older dragons. She’s all anyone can speak of these days. The natural world has already declared their allegiance to the Jinn queen.

And will you not tell me why? Cyrus asked. He’d been trying to get information out of his dragons since the ceremony—when they’d delivered him their cryptic warnings about balances changing in the world—but they’d grown only more reticent to speak on the subject.

I know she is more than worthy , he went on, but what reason does the natural world have to pledge their faith to a Jinn sovereign? Why can you not tell me what is being said?

There are some things we simply cannot share at the moment , said Amir. Dragonkind is presently at war with itself, for there are kingdoms that wish—

That’s enough , said Kaveh, upon whose back Cyrus was presently seated. It is not time yet, Amir, for such talks.

Amir gave a disgruntled grumble, flames flaring from his nostrils in indignation; and Kamran, who was seated upon the beast’s back, gave a yelp as he and Hazan were jolted.

“What the devil was that?” called the prince, shouting at Cyrus from across the heavens. “Did your dragon just sneeze?”

Cyrus did not answer him.

Still, he felt Zahra’s amusement at the prince’s reaction, and he grimaced at the direction of her thoughts.

You find him charming? he asked her.

Zahra seemed to prickle. I never said that.

You didn’t need to.

We’re supposed to hate him on principle , said Issa. You might show a little loyalty, Zahra.

My loyalty is not in question , she said sharply. But is the prince really so unworthy? I’ve tried to find something to detest about him, but I confess I admire his ardent defenses of the queen. I think it’s quite noble—

Zahra , said Kaveh in warning.

What? she said. I only want to be sure I’m hating a human for the right reasons—

We hate him because he hates our king , said Amir. We don’t need another reason.

But the prince has no way of knowing our king’s true nature, she countered. He’s only trying to protect the queen from what he perceives as an evil bound to hurt her. Is that not a reflection of his decency? Surely the sins of his grandfather aren’t his to own?

Cyrus took a tight breath.

Does it matter? said Issa. We might hate him simply because we want to.

Zahra’s frustration grew stronger. That doesn’t—

Enough , said Cyrus. I’d like to move on from this subject.

Very well , she said tersely. I only wish to say that I’ve encountered far uglier souls in the last two hundred years of my life, sire, and occasionally I wonder why you feel that this one, in particular, is so deserving of your hatred.

Cyrus nearly closed his eyes. You misunderstand me, Zahra.

I don’t think him unworthy. The queen never would’ve favored him had he been unworthy; it is in fact a credit to his character that she esteems him, and if I believed for even a moment that he might bring her harm I would’ve killed him ages ago.

No, in fact, it’s precisely because I know he might make her happy that I’m able to hate him so completely.

I’m not evolved enough to manage the disgraceful state of my heart.

I’m so jealous I feel the pain in my fucking blood.

I hate him not because he is unworthy—but because I am weak.

He felt Zahra’s surprise at his speech. Then, suddenly, the force of her sadness.

Oh , she said. I see.

Cyrus set his jaw and said nothing, his heart beating too hard in his chest.

You should’ve kept your comments to yourself , said Amir harshly. Are you happy now?

No , she said with feeling. Sire, forgive me. I’d not realized— That is, I know how you care for the queen, but I—

Cyrus shook his head, trying to calm the disorder of his pulse, the unease in his bones. We need not discuss it , he said.

Composing himself, Cyrus gripped the reins tighter, leather straps biting into his palms. He returned his focus to a study of the night sky. It had been nearly twenty minutes without an update from the firefly, and that was twice as long as the last wait for news.

Now he was growing restless.

Is the queen still sleeping? he asked Zahra.

Yes, sire.

Are you sure?

Zahra’s remorse vanished, displaced once more by irritation. Yes, sire.

You might’ve kept the queen with you , suggested Kaveh. Then you would’ve known for yourself that she was all right, and saved us all from having to listen to these tedious exchanges.

I second that , said Amir.

Oh, piss off , said Cyrus. You know it’s better for her if we ride separately . I’ve no idea what we might encounter on this journey. If something happens to me, you mustn’t hesitate to fly her to safety—

Yes, we know , said Issa. Cyrus could practically feel the young dragon rolling his eyes. You’ve only told us a thousand times, sire. We’re going to keep her safe. Stop worrying—

I’ll stop worrying when I’m dead , Cyrus said without thinking.

The statement struck like a whip.

An uncomfortable silence fell in the aftermath, his head quieting as the voices retreated. Cyrus wished he could take it back.

He might’ve taken greater care with his words were he less tired or abraded—had he felt less, wanted less, needed less. As it was, he experienced a flare of guilt as the dragons processed their various feelings, emotions reaching him like sparks.

Do you— Do you know when it’s going to happen, sire? asked Issa. Has Iblees given you any indication?

Not yet , said Cyrus, trying to keep his tone even. We still need to find her magic. It’s the last task remaining.

You’re close, then , said Zahra.

Yes , he said. Very close.

Once more, his dragons lapsed into silence.

Cyrus sighed shakily. He’d known these glittering beasts since childhood. He’d grown up in their care, in the warmth of their wisdom and protection. For Cyrus, who’d never desired much, having his own fleet of dragons was an enormous indulgence.

But then, it was also rare.

Most kingdoms owned dragon dens the way they did treasure houses and country manors—never on the palace grounds.

Dragons, though inherently gentle creatures, could be volatile and dangerous when provoked; as a result, most dragon keepers kept the animals in chains.

A full staff was generally devoted to their constant care, for the beasts did not bow before the arrogance of humans without tremendous incentive.

Dragons had to be courted to be kept in favor—constantly lavished with luxury, massaged and groomed with regularity—or else they’d simply eat a man and abscond.

Cyrus’s dragons, meanwhile, were independent.

Of course he cared for them constantly, always ensuring that their lives were comfortable in his care and under his protection.

But they required little from him these days, for the king’s relationship with his dragons was neither conditional nor transactional.

They stayed with him because they wanted to, because they’d pledged their fealty to him years ago—

When he was still a child.

As a boy, Cyrus had heard stories of injured dragons: the ones deemed useless, cast out of their dens and left to die.

It took up to a year for an injured dragon, once ousted, to finally succumb to death, and all the while they were slowly devoured by scarabs and maggots; lengths of flesh stripped away by vultures and jackals.

They died slowly and in excruciating agony, and upon hearing these horrors, Cyrus’s tender heart had never recovered.

He’d begged his parents to help him bring home the injured; the broken and sickly.

He went to great lengths to find those discarded, hefting them back to the castle in great ships at tremendous expense.

Between the dragons and the Diviners, his family had thought him worse than eccentric.

Still, they were so indulgent and frivolous that they let him have his hobbies, for he was the second son and an odd one at that, and it was good for him to keep busy and out of the way.

Happily, Cyrus had disappeared.

Bit by bit he revived the beasts’ broken bodies, tending to them with the gentle patience of an unhurried child. When it came time to release them back into the world, the dragons had refused to go. Instead, they’d bowed their heads before him.

Cyrus had become their king long before he had a crown.

He’d loved his dragons fiercely, with the uncomplicated affection of a young boy, loving them only more as their conversations gained complexity.

From a tender age he’d managed to grasp the mechanics of silent communication, and ever imperfectly, in fits and starts, he’d begun speaking with creatures of all kinds, having found in their company a solace he could not describe.

In some ways, his dragons were his only true family. He would miss them, perhaps, the most.

Cyrus swallowed against the knot building in his throat. He spoke into the taut silence with exaggerated irritation, hoping to dispel the tension when he said, Where is that damned firefly? She’s been gone well over twenty minutes now and I’m—

The night sky was split open by a blinding knife of light.