Page 52 of Every Spiral of Fate (This Woven Kingdom #4)
Fifty
“HIS PUPILS ARE BADLY DILATED,” said Deen. “There’s something happening to him—”
“Black magic?” said Kamran. “Do you think he’s using black magic?”
When Iblees had laid bare the terms of the single favor he desired, Cyrus had understood, with sickening clarity, why his brother had been willing to throw him on the pyre—for the devil’s request had been horrifyingly simple:
To take possession of his body.
Bijan, the eldest prince, thought Cyrus had tossed his life away by joining the priesthood.
As far as his brother was concerned, Cyrus was already dead.
Bijan could not understand Cyrus’s desire to relinquish his royal titles, forgo an inheritance of riches, and submit to a life designed to humble him so completely he might one day forget his own name.
“Has the book changed at all?” asked Huda. “I’m starting to fear that we’re taking too long—”
“Not yet,” said Alizeh. “Perhaps it won’t change until we’ve reached the castle.”
“And you don’t think the land will try to kill us before then?”
“I don’t know,” said Alizeh, who was beginning to sound panicked. “But we can’t just leave him— I need to understand what’s happening—”
Like so many other Diviners, Cyrus had been drawn to the temple because his young heart had felt lawless and restless, his soul unfinished.
As a boy he’d wanted little more than to understand the wind; he’d wanted to know the rain.
He’d longed to experience the currents of the earth within him, to feel threads of magic snap wildly in his veins.
“What’s the matter with him?” said Kamran, who was looking more confused by the moment. “Is this another one of his tricks?”
“Maybe he’s dying?” suggested Omid.
“I’m never that lucky,” said Kamran.
“Why would he be dying?” asked Deen. “Did he touch something? Is it possible he encountered something strange? Did anyone see whether—”
It was, in fact, the very tenderness that powered him that fed the tempests that destroyed him.
At times Cyrus felt so overwhelmed and abraded by the force of the world that he could hardly tolerate even the touch of morning dew, and this left him wretched even as it made him furious.
It had occurred to him, at various moments in time, that were his feelings less fathomless he might’ve lived a simpler life.
“Cyrus?” Hazan grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, hard. “Cyrus, I need you to speak to me. What is happening to you right now?”
Had he been a standard child, an ordinary boy, a less convicted youth, he might never have sought his peace outside the palace walls.
He might never have bothered with honor.
He might never have learned to endure. He might’ve been content with gold and distracted by jewels and happy to spend his life servicing his own insipid desires to the exclusion of all else.
Somehow, his own heart had betrayed him.
“ Hazan ,” he whispered. “It’s over.”
“What do you mean?” The Jinn drew back. “What’s over? What do you speak of?”
“I’ve failed.”
“What have you failed?” said Huda. She looked around. “Why has he failed? What’s happening?”
Cyrus knew what he had to do now, though he didn’t know how he would bear it. He could hardly allow himself to consider all he was about to lose—millions dead, his father never to return, his soul disintegrated, and Alizeh—
What would happen to Alizeh?
“Cyrus?”
The moment he felt the touch of her skin, Cyrus knew he should run for his life. He knew it and yet he froze, his heart hammering out desperate, increasingly painful warnings as she slid her fingers along his palm, grasping for purchase.
A soft breath escaped him.
No doubt he was overcome by a bout of insanity, for instead of drawing away—instead of making excuses—his own hand closed around hers automatically, instinctively. And like the tide returning to the sea, he felt at once an exquisite, dizzying relief.
“Alizeh,” he said, his eyes closing on the word.
He couldn’t decide then what he loved most about her.
He couldn’t choose, and he needn’t bother.
She was unyielding tenderness; graceful strength.
He wanted a life with her he was afraid even to fashion into thought.
He wanted time with her he would never have.
He wanted moments he did not deserve. Where she was everything, he was nothing, and never was this more apparent than now.
He opened his eyes.
She was staring up at him with a desperate affection that fed his starved heart even as he knew himself to be undeserving.
He had failed her. He’d failed himself. He’d failed his family, his people—
Hells, he’d failed the world.
“What’s happening?” she said, pressing his hand gently. “Will you not speak to me?”
Cyrus swallowed.
The devil had played him like a master puppeteer.
In the beginning, Iblees had wanted only to inhabit a Clay king’s body, but Cyrus had seen this as so dangerous and terrifying a request that, instead, he’d inadvertently entered into a bargain that gave the devil the opportunity to demand a great deal more.
Now, Iblees might take possession of his body while married to the prophesied savior of his people.
He would be the Jinn King to her Queen, and he’d find a way to steal her power, no doubt to exact ruthless revenge upon the Clay world.
“Cyrus,” said Hazan, seething, “I swear if you don’t explain yourself in the next instant, I will disembowel you—”
The devil would be married to her.
What would he do to her? How might he treat her? If he dared to touch her—
Cyrus was so destroyed by the thought he feared he might tear himself apart with his own fucking hands. Fear and fury flooded him with shattering violence, and yet he could do nothing to stop this from happening. He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t protect her.
He was the reason she’d be exposed to evil.
He was the reason millions would be slaughtered, the reason her dreams would be dashed to pieces, the reason she was now in danger.
Iblees had forbidden Cyrus from speaking aloud the truth of his wager, but the rules of the game no longer mattered.
Cyrus was about to lose everything—and the least he could do was warn her of all he’d unleashed.
The least he could do was confess.
The fall of Tulan
was a tragic tale
A weakening empire
foredoomed to fail
We felled your enemies
routing every rival
We secured your borders
ensuring your survival
We played our part
to help you win
Allow us now
to inhabit your skin