Page 28 of Lady of Starfire (Lady of Darkness #5)

Cyrus

“T he spell is not working, Gehenna,” Alaric seethed.

“Impossible,” she replied coldly, her fingers wrapped around the bars of her cell.

“It is not working,” Alaric repeated, stepping closer to her. He lifted a hand. What could he do? His draining power wouldn’t work on her. There was nothing to drain. Unless he was planning to reach through the bars and wrap his hand around her throat, in which case Cyrus couldn’t blame him.

Eyes fixed on his loosely clasped hands, he kept his gaze down. He sat in the same corner he’d been sitting in for hours, knees bent, arms resting atop them. He hadn’t moved since he’d made the bargain with the Sorceress.

He’d heard the footsteps on the stairs, and he’d assumed it was someone delivering food again.

He hadn’t touched the last two trays they’d brought him.

But then he’d heard two sets of footsteps.

Alaric hadn’t bothered to look at him when he’d entered the space, but Briar did.

Briar’s icy blue eyes had connected with his, and Cyrus had immediately looked away at the look that had crossed the prince’s features.

Pity.

Pity he did not deserve. Not after what he’d done to keep the memories of Cassius out of her hands.

“You said it would lead me to the lock,” Alaric was saying, his tone tight with barely leashed control.

“I said the lock would call to you,” the Sorceress retorted, pushing off the bars and beginning to pace.

“You tricked me,” Alaric spat.

“No, Prince of Failure,” she chided. “We made a bargain. I fulfilled my end.”

“Gehenna,” he snarled, slamming an open palm against the bars.

“You brought the Fae of Water instead of the Princess of Wind,” she said, ignoring Alaric’s outburst. “She could have found your lock.”

“I ran out of time.”

“A pattern in your existence as of late,” Gehenna said with a laugh. The same laugh she sometimes had when she’d let him out of his nightmares. “You had another way. You should not need the lock.”

Alaric cursed, slamming a palm against the bars again. “That wretched girl destroyed it when she burned down my Fellowship. I have not needed the lock until now.”

“That girl has ruined many plans,” the Sorceress said darkly. “Not only yours.”

“Cyrus.”

His murmured name startled him. He hadn’t heard it since he’d been down here. How long had it been now?

He glanced up to find Briar standing over him, concern filling his eyes.

“Ashtine is safe?” Cyrus rasped.

Briar nodded slowly.

“Good,” he replied. “That’s …good.”

“They are coming for you, Cyrus.”

Cyrus nodded mutely.

“You will … You are strong enough to endure this,” Briar said.

A small, sardonic smile tilted on his lips. “If only I was that kind of male,” he answered. “But it’s already too late.”

Briar’s gaze darted to Alaric and Gehenna. They were face-to-face at the bars, heated whispered words being hissed between them. Good. If her focus was there, it could not be on him.

Briar sank to a crouch before him. “They will understand, Cyrus. Whatever you have had to do to survive her … They will understand.”

“How long?” Cyrus asked.

“Soon.”

He shook his head. “How long has it been? Since I have been here with her?”

“It has been three days since the encounter in the Southern Islands.”

Three days.

It had taken three days for him to break. Only three days to give in to her. Only three days to betray his family, his Court.

And Briar wanted to tell him he was strong?

If he had it in him to laugh, he would have then.

He was the farthest thing from strong there was.

He didn’t need to be reminded that he damaged everyone around him.

It was something he reminded himself of every waking moment, and his nightmares reminded him while he slept.

More than once he had thought that it would be better if they didn’t come for him, if they left him here. But three days.

That’s how many days Alaric had given them. If they didn’t come today …

Well, what more could Alaric really do to him? Drain his power? He could fucking have it. Physically torture him? He deserved that and more. Keep him locked away with the Sorceress? There was nothing left of him anyway.

He’d told himself he would make it up to them.

He would do better. This would be the last thing he did that would hurt those he cared for so profoundly.

He would never be deserving of anything, but he would try.

Try to not be the complete fuckup his mother had clearly deemed him to be.

What he’d proven to be every day since. He would do better.

Do more than he had done for Merrick, for Thia. He would be better.

The room fell silent when Cyrus walked into the den.

Eliza wouldn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on her wineglass as she fiddled with the stem.

Rayner was standing next to Sorin, trying to look casual and relaxed.

Cyrus knew he was anything but. And Sorin?

The Fire Prince had a grim look on his face, mouth set in a taut line.

His steps faltered. “What?”

Sorin pushed out a harsh breath, swiping a hand through his dark hair. Then he jerked his chin at the table. “Sit, Cyrus.”

There were no cards waiting for them. No food spread. No drinks, save for Eliza’s, but she was currently chugging the last of her wine.

“Just tell me what is going on,” Cyrus said, moving to the chair anyway.

The three of them—his family—glanced between themselves again. Sorin took a seat, but Rayner remained standing next to him. Ever watchful. Cyrus sank unceremoniously into his seat.

“These last few years have been difficult,” Sorin started, holding his stare.

Cyrus blinked at him. Difficult? These last five years had been agony. Five years since Thia had been killed. Five years since he’d lost his twin flame. Five years of mania. He scarcely remembered some months. Entire periods of time were simply blank.

“We have waited to have this conversation,” Sorin continued. “You know we are here for you. Whatever you need.”

Cyrus nodded, trying to figure out where he was going with this.

“We …” Sorin swiped a hand down his face.

“Just say it, Sorin.”

“We want to give you an out, Cyrus.”

“A what?”

“An out. If this is no longer what you want to do—if being my Second is no longer something you wish for—I want you to know you can walk away from it,” Sorin said.

Cyrus stared at him. “You want me to leave?”

“No,” Sorin said quickly. His gaze cut to Eliza, who still hadn’t looked up from her glass. Rayner shifted slightly. Sorin blew out another harsh breath. “But perhaps it would be for the best.”

“Cyrus.”

He blinked several times. Back in the prison. That’s where he was. Briar still crouched before him, so much worry filling his features.

That wasn’t how that conversation had gone.

They had offered him an out, yes, but they had wanted him to know that he would still have a place in their family.

The Fiera Palace would still be his home, but if he no longer wished for the role of Second, they understood.

Eliza wouldn’t look at him because she had tears in her eyes, not wanting him to go.

Rayner had been agitated at the thought of him leaving, at the idea of having to bring another into their fold.

Sorin wanted to give him a choice, even though it pained him to do so.

But maybe they had wanted him to walk away? Maybe he had gotten it all wrong?

“Prince of Water,” the Sorceress called, and Briar’s eyes widened as he quickly rose to his feet. “Did no one teach you not to play with other people’s things?”

A thing. That sounded about right at this point.

Alaric turned, cold amusement glimmering in his dark eyes. “Do not worry, Prince Drayce. Mikale delivered a message from my Wraith. She comes for him tonight.”

“Then I will be freed,” Gehenna gasped, clinging to the bars.

Alaric glanced back at her. “In time.”

“In time?” she repeated in horror. “You said you would free me!”

“You said that spell would help find the lock,” he replied with a shrug.

“You will regret this choice, Alaric.”

“It appears you are already regretting yours,” he retorted. He began striding for the stairs. “Come, Prince. We will come back for the Fire Second later.”

Briar looked down at Cyrus, an apology written on his face.

“Go,” Cyrus said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Cyrus—”

“Go, Briar,” he snapped. “Before you pay yet another price.”

Briar gave him one last look as he murmured, “Soon you will be free of her,” before he turned and followed Alaric up the stairs.

Cyrus could feel the Sorceress’s eyes on him. He inhaled deeply, steeling himself to look at her. Be free of her? He never would be.

He lifted his head, meeting her violet stare. She tilted her head, a finger sliding up and down a bar. “We don’t have much time left together, pretty Fire Fae.”

“I would say let’s make the most of it, but I would really rather you didn’t.”

She smiled, and he flinched back.

“Still so funny,” she said softly. She began pacing slowly behind the bars, fingers dragging along them. “Our time will end, but you will not be free of me.”

He knew that. Not only did he make a bargain with her, she still had his blood.

He’d had to give her more.

Just one part of what he agreed to in order to keep his memories of Cassius free of her ministrations.

If you can’t see that all you do is damage everyone around you, then I will keep reminding you until you believe it.

He ground his teeth against the voice in his mind.

Cassius’s voice repeating those words. He’d saved the other memories.

Smoking mugweed on a balcony at the Black Halls.

Stealing that stupid mirror from Sawyer’s cabin on the ships.

Helping Cassius expel his magic when they first arrived in Avonleya.

The sparring ring the first time Cassius had kissed him.

“Do not forget our bargain, Fire Fae,” Gehenna called, pulling him from his thoughts.

“How could I?” he gritted out, pulling up the sleeve of his grungy tunic. Wrapping around his upper bicep ran a Bargain Mark, blood red against his skin. The Mark was three winding ropes. Three sacrifices to keep his memories pure. One of blood. One of betrayal. One of time.

“Will they want you back? Once they know what you have given me?” she asked curiously.

And the fact that he paused to consider his answer told him enough. The Sorceress had fundamentally broken something in his soul. Something that had always been fractured. Something he’d always barely held together.

“Yes,” he finally answered. The word did not hold any conviction. He said it because he knew it was the right answer, not because he believed it.

She hummed an acknowledgment, her pacing becoming more erratic. “You get to leave while I stay locked away.”

“Sounds like you’ll be free soon enough, Gehenna,” he muttered.

“Not soon enough,” she snapped. “I have been in here for centuries, pretty Fire Fae.”

“You did try to help the Maraans take over this world, so I can’t really blame them,” he offered.

“I was not helping the Maraans,” she snarled, fingers pulling at her lank black strands. “Achaz sent me.”

“To aid the Maraans.”

“To further his own plans, not those of the Maraans,” she spat.

Cyrus didn’t say anything else. He didn’t want to agitate her any further.

Gehenna whirled to him again, gripping the bars and pressing her face to them. “Do not forget what is required of you, Fae of Fire. Do not forget what the consequences will be for breaking your deal with me.”

“I won’t,” he answered. “I can’t.”

“Good.”

And she pulled him into another nightmare.