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After the ritual we changed, and then Cyrus brought me out into his city. Considering I’d entered Ashfuror in an unconscious state, this was my first time out of the palace. Cyrus exuded an air of giddiness as we burst through the ornate wooden doors and into the streets, taking my hand in his and dragging me along from place to place.

I had to admit, the city was beautiful, if drastically different from my own. Instead of small wooden houses, there were towering buildings of stone and metal. The only wood tended to be embellishment. I can imagine to many from Greatfalls it would have felt ominous and unforgiving, but as we made our way through the maze of streets, I was filled with a vibrancy, a current of speed and intention that was new to me.

We stopped first at Cyrus’ favorite bakery. He insisted that a proper tour of Ashfuror had to include his favorite pastry, a flaky bun filled with cream and some kind of tart fruit. It was delicious, crunchy and smooth and a little sweet. From there we wandered from street to street, in and out of bookstores and florists and forges.

Of which there were many. Considering Stahkla’s influence, it wasn’t surprising that metal-working was a common profession. The large pieces were impressive, of course, but I was most interested in the most delicate of them. Intricate iron picture frames. Flowers with carefully shaped metal petals. Even iron jewelry.

We ended the tour at the Great Square of Ashfuror. As we stepped out into the open space, I gasped. Without the other buildings closing in, the great spires of the city towered over everything, glimmering in the sunlight.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Cyrus asked.

“It is…” My head swiveled back and forth on my neck as I tried to take everything in.

“Look.” Cyrus pointed up to a grand balcony. Made of iron and embellished in gold, it loomed over the square. “That’s the far end of the palace. When we have the public wedding, it will be there. The whole square will be filled with people.”

I took in the area around me. It was a great expanse of cobblestone, with patches of green here and there.

“How?” I asked. “It could fit thousands.”

“There will be that many and more.” Cyrus winked. “People from all over Fyr will be begging to attend.”

The enormity overwhelmed me, as did the city in many ways. The scale of it made me sheepish. I slipped my arm around Cyrus’ waist. It was a show of weakness, perhaps, but I needed something to hold on, some steady thing that I could anchor myself to in the sea of change, and his strength and confidence pulsed through the marriage bond.

He pulled me in closer, kissing the top of my head and whispering in my ear.

“All this is yours.”

***

My mind was buzzing with a jumble of contradicting thoughts. I was married to the Dark Lord of Ashfuror. We shared the marriage bond, and that had only served to deepen my already confusing feelings for him. Of all the possible outcomes of my life, this hadn’t been on the list. Hell, it hadn’t even been in the same room as the list.

Jelenna was not happy with me. That was clear the minute the ceremony had concluded. The fact that our wedding had been so blatantly blessed by Stahkla had visibly disturbed her. I was sure she had concerns about my ability to perform my purpose, to sever Cyrus’ connection with the Crown of Seeing.

She wasn’t wrong to worry. My grandmother, the most important person in my life, had trusted me with the task. But I had so many questions. I couldn’t go through with it, couldn’t hurt the man who was now my husband. Not if I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do.

I was avoiding considering my brother and his transgressions.

It was so much to think about, and yet here I was, drifting off to sleep in a contented haze. Why?

Because of Cyrus and his very talented mouth.

Between the wildfire and our wedding, we’d been absolutely exhausted. But that hadn't stopped him from giving me, as he said, "the full treatment." I didn't think there was an inch of me that he hadn't explored with his tongue. In the process, I’d made some discoveries about new pleasurable areas on my body that I’d never even considered before.

After that, he settled down to suck the very life out of me. All of the contradictory thoughts in my head disintegrated with that mind-blowing orgasm. As sleep took me, I made a mental note to make sure that I returned the favor very soon.

The combination of exhaustion and having Cyrus by my side meant that I slept deeper than I ever had. For the second night in a row, I was dead to the world.

Sometime near the witching hour, my sleep was disturbed. Someone called my name, cutting through the heavy velvet blanket of my slumber.

"Skye..."

I dismissed it at first as the remnants of a dream.

"Skye!"

I sat up straight in bed, scanning the bedroom for the source. But I wasn’t in Cyrus’ bedroom anymore. It retained some similarities, but the angles were all off, and strange sprays of blue and purple formed an ever-changing film over the floor and walls.

"What is this place?" I mumbled under my breath.

"We are sharing a dreamspace, love." I jumped out of bed at the voice, turning to see the one person that couldn't be here in Ashfuror.

"Grandmother!" I ran to her, wanting to wrap my arms around her small frame, but as I tried they passed right through her.

"I'm not really there, Skye.” The kindness in her voice soothed my soul. “One of the artifacts that Vazzart has gifted us over the years allows me to communicate in this way."

"Oh." I stepped back. There was something about her that was unsubstantial, like she could fade away at any moment. "I’ve missed you so much."

"And I you, my love." She smiled, but her eyes were sad. "Do you know why I'm here?"

I nodded unhappily. I had hoped that I had more time. The contradictions between what I’d been told of Cyrus and what I’d experienced next to him loomed large in my mind, and my conflicting emotions complicated the matter.

"Will you do it then?” she asked. “Tonight?"

I glanced over at the desk, where Cyrus had casually set his crown down. He didn't suspect me of any betrayal. He had embraced me as a husband and an equal. Would I really hurt him in this way?

"I have questions."

She squinted at me, her face growing hard. I'd only seen this side of her once or twice before. It struck fear in me, but I brushed it off. I wouldn't be a clueless tool.

"We were ambushed on the road. The villagers attacked us because they recognized our weapons. They claimed their town had been raided by the Archers, with Athard at the vanguard. Did you know about this?"

"I sent him." My stomach clenched at her answer. There was no tone of guilt in her voice.

"Why?"

"He was supposed to build relationships with the surrounding towns and villages,” she said, all business. “It is something that I've neglected over the years. He...did not do it in a compassionate way."

"He didn't do it at all! He assaulted the town and murdered their mayor." My face grew hot with anger.

She didn't answer.

"Will you allow him to become Prime?” I pressed. “He’s obviously unfit to lead."

She sighed. "You are gone, Skye, and you never wanted to be Prime anyway. I have no other grandchildren. I must sharpen the tool in my hand, rather than build another from scratch."

"Make someone else the heir. It wouldn’t be the first time the Prime was adopted into the family. Give it to Jelenna. She’s as loyal as they come."

Grandmother stayed silent for a long moment, then replied. "I will consider it."

It wasn't the definitive answer I'd hoped for, but it was something. Not that that was the end of my questions.

"Cyrus said that Greatfalls is hoarding water, that the Crown of Seeing showed him that. That we have far more than we need, that we are responsible for much of the suffering from the drought."

"It's not true."

"Grandmother—"

"Child, I have never lied to you. We have only ever kept the water needed to allow the city to survive. I would not cause suffering needlessly."

"But he said—"

"The crown is a deceptive tool." She gripped her staff. I was trying her patience.

"What do you mean?"

"The crown is a gift from Stahkla, and the God of Fire and Metal has an agenda. He hates that Greatfalls stays independent from the rest of Fyr, from his hand-chosen Lord. The crown can't lie. It can’t show what isn't there, but Stahkla can decide what the wearer sees to support his own schemings."

"Cyrus is trying to do what's right."

"Is he?"

"Yes! I've seen him put his own life at risk trying to save his subjects. Since I've met him, he's always thought of himself last."

She glared at me, but I didn’t flinch as I continued on. “We share the marriage bond now. I don’t sense any deceit from him, not toward me, and not toward his people.”

“They were quick to get you married.”

“It was part of the treaty that we should be married upon my arrival.”

Grandmother cocked her head at me, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she said, “There was no such provision.”

“What?’

“That was not a requirement of the treaty. The armistice didn’t go into effect until the wedding occurred, yes, but it didn’t enforce a timeline.”

I stared at her. Had they lied to me? Had they purposefully rushed the marriage? What possible reason would they have to do that?

“I…I don’t know. All I know is what I can sense through the soul bond. Despite any faults, Cyrus is trying to lead the best he can.”

She frowned. "Very well, child. If you say it is so, I will take it as truth. But that means little when he is under the thumb of an evil god."

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. This was complicated, made more so by my oaths and my bond to my new husband. I was being pulled between my old life and my new one, and I didn’t know how much further I could stretch before I broke.

"Listen to me, Skye. Do you care for him?"

"I do. More than should be possible after such a short time."

"Have you seen what the crown takes from him?" She gestured to Cyrus' sleeping form on the bed. "The cost is a steep one, and eventually it will kill him. It will not be a pleasant death."

My heart burned at her words. "What do you mean?”

"Death is the price of worshiping the God of Fire and Metal. The more you use his gifts, the more he takes from you."

My throat tightened at the thought of losing Cyrus. We’d just been married. I needed time to be with him. He deserved more than an early death.

"If you separate him from it,” she continued, “he will have the chance to live a normal life."

"But he'll hate me! I’ll be breaking the oaths I swore to him.”

"Oaths blessed by a dark god.” Grandmother spit on the ground next to her. “But won't you be helping him? Saving him, even? And at the same time, you can help your people get out from under the thumb of Ashfuror."

"I-"

"In your oaths, you vowed to stand in the way of any harm to him. The crown will bring about his death. You can stop that."

I stood there, staring at her, and no words would come. There was no right answer. On the one hand, Cyrus had chosen to bear the crown, presumably with full understanding of what that meant. On the other hand, Grandmother had never lied to me, not that I knew of. She had omitted facts on occasion, but if she said the crown would kill him, I believed her. I had to. I’d stopped thinking of Athard as my brother years ago, and she was the only family I had left.

I shook my head.

"He'll forgive you, Skye." Grandmother spoke in a low, soothing tone. "He is your husband. You have the chance at a life with him, unburdened by the price of Stahkla's artifact."

"Fine." The words came out as barely a whisper. There was no way to win here. Either I betrayed my home or I betrayed my husband. But at least this way, Cyrus would live. "I'll do it."

She put her hand to her lips and gently blew me a kiss. "You will always be my family, love. You are my Skye. Your mother and father would be proud."

"I love you, Grandmother."

I jolted awake, breathing hard, in bed once more. The room had been returned to normal, no longer a morphed dreamscape. I was back in Ashfuror.

Cyrus lay next to me in the bed. He was so still, his chest barely rising and falling with the flow of his gentle breath. His face was peaceful and free of worry.

This was going to hurt.

I stood and went to the dresser, keeping my footfalls light. I opened the drawer and removed the dagger, the present from my Grandmother and the gift of Vazzart. It hummed in my hand, vibrating as though my touch had brought it to life.

I picked up the circlet. The volcanic glass was dark and lifeless. Without Cyrus bearing it, feeding it his energy, it was nothing but an empty symbol. I couldn’t let it continue to steal Cyrus’ vitality.

I held the ornament aloft in my left hand. It was lighter than I imagined it would be. As I raised the dagger, the sound of mumbling came from the nearby bed. I froze.

Cyrus was talking in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. I breathed in and out slowly, steadying the racing tempo of my heartbeat.

Taking the dagger in my right hand, I circled around the crown. Once.

The crown sprang to life, shining with a bright orange-yellow light and emitting a low tone. The dagger shook and hummed. Moving it through the air took an effort, as if the knife was being pulled down toward the center of the earth.

Twice.

The tone grew louder, and the crown shook sympathetically with the knife. It was warming underneath my fingers, tolerable but heating up quickly.

Three times.

The whole room came alive with orange light, and flames burst from the surface of the circlet. I almost lost hold, but I gritted my teeth and gripped hard, even as my fingers blistered. I could see them then, the rope-like strands of amber energy running from the artifact to Cyrus, pulling energy from him, taking what belonged to him.

He deserved more than this, to have his life sacrificed to Stahkla's will. The people of Greatfall, my people, my home city, they deserved more as well. They deserved to govern themselves, to not constantly worry about some far away Dark Lord coming to bend them to his desires.

And I deserved more. I had given up my home and I had given up my hand in marriage. I deserved time. Time to find out if Cyrus and I could have something real, something like my mother and father had had.

The dagger was heavy now, so heavy, and the crown burned with a white-hot heat. I wanted to scream, I wanted to drop them both, but I didn't. I had a duty to perform. For Greatfalls. For Cyrus. And for myself.

With great effort, I held the dagger high. My arm strained against the weight. In a single quick motion, I cut through the threads of energy that connected the crown to my husband, sleeping peacefully in his bed. In our bed.

The cords of power snapped with a crack that echoed off the stone walls. I instinctively shielded my face. Then everything went dark.