Page 22

Chapter 22

Kaya

W ith another folded linen and a bowl in his hands, Cyrus enters. He uses his tail to shut the door behind him. At least he isn’t looking over here. I attempt regular breathing, but I’m a failure.

Especially when he strips off his tunic and proceeds to wash his face and hands while only wearing his trousers and boots.

Muscles tense and relax in turn as he cleans the road dust away. The curve of his lower back is partially hidden by his wings, but I can see enough to realize he has a finer arse than I had realized. I bite my lip and roll over so my back is to him.

“Want me to stoke the fire?” His voice rumbles through the room, and I shut my eyes to savor the sound of it. “I’m warm enough, but I don’t mind at all if you’re cold.”

“No, I’m all right.”

I hear him remove his boots and I sit up to take the pins out of my hair. I don’t like sleeping with the little things jabbing me in the scalp.

“Ow!” One of the double pins is snarled in a tangle.

Cyrus’s footsteps thump lightly behind me. “Want some help?”

“Sure. Thanks. Yes.”

He comes close, and I try to keep from showing how much his nearness affects me. He sets one hand on the side of my head. His palm is almost hot and I have to fight not to lean into the touch. His other hand deftly detaches the pin, and then he hands it to me. I turn to face him. With those powerful features of his and that glint in his eye, he could charm the clothes off anyone.

“Thank you. Good night!” I say a little awkwardly, my words tripping over one another. I snuggle under the quilt and shut my eyes before I can do anything else odd.

Cyrus’s chuckle is so faint that I wonder if I imagine it. I hear him shuffling about and getting comfortable on the floor.

“Will you tell me about how you ended up in Leafshire Cove?” he asks. “If you’re not too tired and feel like sharing?”

“It’s not that much of a story.”

“I’d still like to hear it, to know how you ended up there.”

I open my eyes to see him on his side, facing me, propped up on one elbow. He is surrounded by pillows and has at least five stuffed under him like a makeshift mattress. His quilt is draped over his narrow hips, leaving his torso bare. The muscled lines leading from his chest to his waist have me drooling. I lick my lips and roll to my back to look at the ceiling instead. The beams above have leaves and stars painted on them in shades of green and gold.

“My parents weren’t the best, to be honest,” I say.

“In what way? Only share what you want. I’m just curious about you. Feel free to tell me to shove off.”

I grin and smooth my quilt over my stomach. “They never hit us, but their words were harsh. Overcritical is what Renen called them. Nothing we did was ever done correctly, in their opinion. I was constantly afraid that the raised voices and angry looks would turn into something even worse, so I kept quiet and tried to do exactly as I was supposed to do. Chores finished early. Never speaking too loudly. That sort of thing.”

“Blessed Stones, Kaya. That’s awful.” His words are kind enough, but rage laces his tone like he wishes he could have it out with my parents.

“It was a long time ago. Once Renen and I were adults, we took off for the Veiled Kingdoms that we had already fallen in love with during trips. It was odd once we settled in Leafshire Cove.”

“How so?”

“I had so much freedom. No one was looming over my shoulder to tell me when I was being lazy or doing something incorrectly. I went from days and nights structured and controlled by my parents to a life where I was fully in charge.”

“Is that why you’re so tough on yourself? You feel like you would slip into some kind of woeful slothdom if you don’t work your arse off every day?”

I glance at him sideways. “What are you saying, Cyrus?”

“You’re amazing. You deserve pleasure and relaxation time. You don’t have to work your fingers to the bone to deserve the lovely things life has to offer.”

“I don’t work my fingers to the bone,” I say, my tone filled with vinegar.

“Oh really? When was your last holiday?”

“Just recently. I went climbing and hiking with Renen and his partner, remember?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about time off to do what you choose to do. Not to please anyone else.”

I clear my throat and turn onto my side to face him. My chest feels heavy, and I want him to understand why I live how I do, but I can’t seem to find the right words.

“Renen doesn’t force me to spend time with him.”

“I know that. He’s a good fellow. But if you could take a trip to see anything anywhere, where would you go? Or would you stay home and read by the fire? What is your ideal day when you’re not baking?”

“I’ve never thought about it. I enjoy my work. I’m good at it.”

“Of course. You are an expert. An artist. But perhaps you don’t allow yourself to be selfish once in a while, to do something just for you.”

Chewing on my lip, I let his words sink in. “But if I don’t get up early every day and bake, my life will fall apart. It’s not like my job is tough. I’m not laying bricks in the summer heat. I don’t have to shovel muck or perform difficult healings like Delixian. I have it easy.”

“You don’t have to earn time off, Kaya. You deserve pleasure and relaxation just because you exist.”

I laugh, but it doesn’t feel funny. “I know that.”

But do I? He’s right that I haven’t ever planned a day off with only myself in mind. Is that because of my parents and the way they raised me?

“I think it’s your turn to talk, Cyrus.”

“That’s fair. Well, you know I have no clue who my biological parents were.”

“I’m sorry about that. Does it bother you?”

“It does, if I’m honest. Aside from wondering about my kind, I just would like to know why they gave me up. Probably knew from the start that I was trouble.” He grins and lets out a sad huff of laughter, but there isn’t any joy in his expression.

It breaks my heart. “No, Cyrus. Now, it’s my turn to lecture you. You’re fun. Mischievous. But not trouble. You are always there for anyone who needs you. You make people laugh and enjoy themselves.”

“I am fun, you’re right about that.”

“But that’s not all,” I say.

Cyrus makes a humming sound. “You yourself have chided me about my behavior.”

“I know you better now. You’ve proven you are responsible and worthy of trust.”

His eyes pinch and he stares.

“What? Do I have gravy on my chin?” I touch my face and worry that I look ridiculous, doling out kindness while covered in dinner.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“About the gravy or the trust thing?”

He chortles and tosses a pillow at me. I catch it and throw it back. Soon, we are fully at war with the pillows and we’re cackling like naughty children.

The last candle still lit finally snuffs itself with a puff and a trail of smoke. We ease into a silence that feels comfortable. The last thing I hear before sleep is Cyrus’s soft snoring.

Then dreams take me…

“You know,” he whispers, “maybe I’ve been thinking about our relationship all wrong.”

I frown, and my skin feels stretched too tightly over my chest. “What do you mean?”

He sets his satchel on the floor. The glowing log on the hearth fire bathes the room in varying shades of red and gold. I worried the room would smell like sweat and crowds, but the scent of lavender is here as it was downstairs. The whiff of laundry soap touches my nose, too. It’s quite pleasant, and if it weren’t for Cyrus’s cryptic words, I’d be happy to sink into that little bed and relax.

Cyrus approaches me, hands spread wide. “If you only wish to be friends with me, that is fine. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.”

“I agree.”

He stumbles and catches himself on a small round table set with a pitcher and two cups. “You do?”

“We had a lot of fun today.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I mean, sweetness. I thought maybe if you wanted to…” He gives me a tentative look as his big hands cup my elbows. Goosebumps run up my arms and onto my scalp. “I can see that you are physically attracted to me.”

“Blessed Stones. I’m sorry, Cyrus. I know we’re just friends. I don’t want to feel this way.”

His gaze slides to the floor and a wrinkle appears between his eyes. “I understand.”

“We are friends.”

Nodding, he faces me again. “We are. Nothing will ever change that.”

“You have always been so supportive. I appreciate you, Cyrus.”

He has that expression again, the pinched look and the downward gaze, and I can’t nail down what exactly he is feeling. “And I appreciate you, Kaya. So if you want to explore kissing or touching or anything at all, I’m your servant, my lady.”

My stomach flips and I can’t blink. He bows formally, his wings spreading slightly and his tail swishing slowly behind him. His horns catch the moonlight streaming through the two windows. Does he mean what I think he means?

When he straightens, his eyes darken. He cups my elbows again and draws me close. His scent ? —

“Kaya. You’re having a dream. It’s all right,” a voice says, waking me.

I open my eyes to see Cyrus looking down at me. He’s sitting on the side of the cot and his weight has me rolling toward him. His thigh is pressed against my arm, warmth soaking into me. His right wing stretches over us like a noble’s fancy canopy bed.

“Oh. Sorry.” My face is one hundred thousand degrees. “Did I say anything?”

His eyebrows lift like my expression is telling him too much, and I’m exposing exactly what I was dreaming about.

“You didn’t.” His smile is kind. “You were tossing and grunting.”

“Like a frustrated pig?”

He chuckles. “Definitely piggish.” With a quick move, he pinches my arm lightly.

I laugh and go to push his hand away, but his fingers linger on mine. It’s only a moment before he puts his hands on his knees, but the sensation of his touch hums through me. I wonder what it would feel like to have his whole body pressed against mine like his thigh is right now. I inhale and scoot over to give him an inch more room.

“I’m all right. Sorry if I woke you.”

“No, it’s fine. I have nightmares a lot,” he says.

“You do?”

He heads back to his spot on the floor. “About being left when I was little.”

My chest aches for him. “Cyrus. I’m so sorry.”

Shrugging, he lies down and pulls his quilt up to his waist. “Robin and Lucretia were kind to me. I’m luckier than most orphans.”

That reminds me about the kissing booth charity portion of the upcoming May Day festival. I hope I can earn a bunch for the younglings and children who need help.

We fall back into silence, but before I nod off, I have to ask… “Are you going to visit the area your ghostly kin directed you to? You have to. Right? I would in your shoes.”

Actually, I probably wouldn’t. There’s always so much work to do at the bakery, plus venturing into the unknown is not my style.

His look tells me he knows that about me. “Yes. I’ll go after May Day.”

Heart sinking, I nod because I don’t trust my voice. I’m too sleepy, and that dream felt so real that I wish he wanted to stay forever by my side. “Of course. Good.”

“I’ll be back, Kaya.”

So he says. But he might find something there that he is missing out on. He might decide to stay.

“Oh, I know,” I say, feigning a relaxed mood about the whole thing.

The night wears on, and Cyrus’s breathing grows even. I savor the feel of having him here with me. It’s a stolen night—one I’ll always treasure. He’s different when he’s alone with me. He’s not the gambler, the flirt, the wild dragon shifter. He’s just Cyrus. And he’s perfect.

Soon, I’m asleep again, too.