Page 31

Annalise

T here’s a large chill in the room. It’s cold, not comforting as it usually is. As my consciousness grows, so does the pain that I feel. My head throbs as if I’ve been banging it against a door for the past hour. My eyes flutter open, but it takes me a moment to focus on the ceiling. My vision refuses to clear out, and after a frustrating few minutes, the ceiling finally comes into view.

I do not recognize this room.

I slowly sit up, my head throbbing furiously, forcing me to place my hand against it to staunch the pain. As I look around the room, I finally find the point of the breeze. It’s the window. It’s wide open with a familiar figure standing before it, drinking in the breeze.

My body reacts naturally to seeing Cyrus so close as my brain screams at me how dangerous this being is. My heart rate skyrockets, as well as memories of what happened before I was knocked unconscious plague me. Cyrus’s reaction to my pleas and my anger was alarming. And even now, as I stare at him, I wonder why I am not dead. I don’t dare speak or attempt to pull his attention. But he knows I am awake. I’m sure he can hear the shift in my heartbeat or the scent of my fear.

Cyrus turns away from the window, his emotionless expression studying me. His gaze lingers on my face before he decides to move away from the window. But I cannot move. I am paralyzed.

Cyrus takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his gaze unreadable as he studies me. I cringe as he reaches for my face, but he ignores my fears, his thumb running over a specific place on my forehead near my hairline. Then, his thumb slowly trails down my face, focusing on my cheek.

He inhales softly.

“Do you know how I got these scars?”

I slowly nod, but Cyrus shakes his head.

“Do you know what actually transpired?” he asks.

I don’t respond, and he releases a deep breath, pulling his shirt off to reveal his scarred torso. Cyrus’s expression is soft as he places the fabric on the bed, allowing me to take in the extent of his scarring. I’ve never truly studied it. I’ve always acknowledged it’s there, but this close, I see marred flesh and just how many times it wraps around his skin.

“My servants poisoned me. When I awoke, I was chained up like a sacrifice. The chains were barbed-tipped, digging into my flesh easily as the humans had discovered a toxin strong enough to break through my skin. It’s the same toxin they use with their swords.” Cyrus chuckles bitterly, his eyes growing distant as he recalls a memory he’s clearly pushed to the back of his mind. “Two days. They kept me chained up, hanging from the ceiling for two days, my blood staining the floors.”

Cyrus’s hand slowly slips under mine, pulling it to his face. His skin is warm as he presses my palm against his cheek. The skin is smooth as he moves my palm along the scars, his eyes lined to mine. The scars wrap from his torso to his face, extending to his arms. He then pulls my hand from his face to his chest where the skin isn’t smooth. It’s jagged and deep, revealing a scar I’ve never noticed in the past.

“When I was weak enough, my father’s advisor—the man who had spent more than half of his life by my father’s side, used a sword coated in this toxin to pierce my chest, aiming for my heart. I was lucky enough that my father had arrived in time to prevent my death. But not these scars,” he says.

Cyrus’s hand lowers, but mine remains on his chest, feeling in the indent of the scar placed upon him. I feel weak thinking of the torture Cyrus endured.

“Once news spread of the harm brought to the prince, the war began in earnest. The hunters didn’t understand that beasts come in different forms. There are those of us who are purebred or share the blood from that line. And there are those who have moved further and further away from what we truly are, unable to access it. The humans didn’t know this and focused their raids on villages outside of the kingdom, taking women and children because they were easy targets. And as their demand for weapons grew, so did their lack of morality. That’s probably how your halfbreed came into existence. It wasn’t until years later that they realized they needed powerful beasts if they wanted to have a fighting chance, which is when they began focusing on one of the strongest each time they ambushed,” Cyrus says.

He looks out the window once again.

“My father was captured trying to protect a village. Had he been alone, he might have been able to shift and protect himself. But he knew what was at stake. In the days of my father’s reign, humans and beasts coexisted. Some villages didn’t change that with the war, and those are the villages the hunters focused their attacks on. They didn’t care for the human lives there. Only that the king would be protecting it and willing to sacrifice himself. My father alone held off an army of hunters so that those people could get away. My father spent every second of his reign being a benevolent ruler.”

My eyes widen when a tear slips down Cyrus’s cheek.

“And they killed him for it. They cut off his head, placed it on a spike to taunt me, and disposed of him as if he wasn’t the reason they were all alive in the first place,” he says.

Cyrus lowers his gaze, taking a deep breath. The pain of his father’s death is still fresh. It wasn’t very long ago that he was killed. But I’ve always associated Cyrus with strength and doing whatever is necessary. It’s shocking to see the physical hurt the death of his father has caused.

Cyrus chuckles bitterly, finally looking at me. Hatred clouds his gaze as he watches me, and I feel now more than ever that I understand just where the dedication to his hatred stems from. But he isn’t finished.

“My mother was beauty, grace, strength, and confidence. She was everything I strived to be. Her marriage to my father was entirely her choice. She came from the original bloodline. And as such, it was frowned upon that she married my father. To this day, I know nothing of her past. Nothing of the world she came from. But because she was pure, she was powerful. Much more powerful than my father. Unfortunately, when creating a child, all of her power disappeared. Her pregnancies made her weak. And when she was pregnant with my sibling, humans felt it was time to rid the world of her. I watched them rip my sibling from her womb. And I watched her breathe her dying breath to protect me.”

Silence encompasses the room as Cyrus relives the traumatic event. His hatred is clear. Everything he’s ever loved was taken from him by humans. And as he continues to reveal this information to me, I find myself wondering where this will lead.

“I swore to my father I would uphold his rule. Humans do not act collectively. You cannot blame all for the few, he would say. But the day they took what I had left—after all the suffering—I decided that there was no room for humans in my society,” he says.

He laughs humorlessly, studying me.

“Then I found you—the exception—a naive human standing near the river, trying to lie to me. And as much as I tried to push you out of my mind and treat you like the rest, you just kept captivating me. And then, you acted as if you were different. And you foolishly leapt into a dangerous situation just to prove yourself to me. I thought, if you could see me as more than the creature who took everything from you, I could see you as more than the creatures who took everything from me,” he says.

To my shock, Cyrus smiles. It’s soft, but it’s there as he reaches for my face. He pushes my hair behind my ear, rubbing his thumb along my jaw as his eyes slowly move over my face, memorizing each and every feature, lingering on the places he desires most.

Then, his expression shifts.

“You were a mistake, Annalise. I never should have touched you—the very thing I hate most in this world. I never should have seen you as more than that. I allowed myself to lower my guard and give in to my temptation that went against everything that I felt. And I turned that temptation into a child, inviting our struggle into his life… I made a mistake,” he says as his smile falls and his hand drops.

Cyrus turns away, his back to me. After a moment, he stands, pulling his shirt on. He takes a deep breath and faces me, holding his hand out.

“Come with me,” he says.

I slowly push back the blankets, placing my hand in Cyrus’s. The air feels impossible to breathe from the tension in the room. Cyrus is eerily calm, so much so that I expect him to snap at any moment. I follow him to the door, and he pushes it open to reveal a foreign hall. To my shock, Joan and Prim are on the other side of the door, bowing with their gazes down as we exit.

I keep my gaze on Joan, but she refuses to look at me as we pass.

Cyrus continues to lead me silently until we reach an open area with stairs. My eyes widen, and horror washes over me as I take in the unfamiliar surroundings outside of the large windows. The curtains are drawn back, allowing natural light to shine in. We are in the mountains, where it is snowing, far from Cyrus’s palace.

I look at Cyrus with wide eyes but he is already watching me, waiting for me to challenge him. I look back to the windows at a loss for what to do.

“Your Majesty…” I trail off, not knowing what to say.

He brought me here. He followed through and took me away from the palace, away from Ciel. But after the torture he placed on me that night, I can’t react in the same way. Not if I want to survive. Tears form in my eyes as I look out the windows. The sound of footsteps fills the air, followed by servants' greetings. I slowly turn to see my servants standing in the entry with a new servant in the center of them. I recognize her. She’s the woman I saved during the dinner. She’s dressed in servant’s attire, her eyes down as she trembles before us.

“Step forward, slave.” Cyrus’s voice echoes off the walls, and the woman follows his instructions.

“Don’t look so horrified, Annalise. This is what you so confidently traded your son for,” he says coldly.

I look at Cyrus in shock, shaking my head. But I still can’t find the desperation or bravery to react as I once did.

“Your Majesty… p-please…”

“Please, what? Hand my kingdom over to someone who puts the people responsible for so many of its tribulations first? Or perhaps to someone who places them above the well-being of her son, who is a beast. Is that what you’re asking of me?” His expression is stoic as he studies me.

“I told you. Humans will never be part of my kingdom. You’ve chosen them over us too many times. So stay with your people away from my palace and away from my son,” he says.

Cyrus turns away from me before I can respond, making his way to the exit, I assume. I remain stunned in the middle of the floor, not sure what to do. But slowly, my feet move as I follow him. I quickly make my way through the unfamiliar halls, catching up with him just as he stands at the large double doors.

“Your Majesty.”

He pauses, turning to face me, any compassion gone. He sees me just as he sees the people in his stories. In his eyes, I am just another human who has caused him strife.

“What can I do? What would you have me do? I’ll do anything to fix this,” I say desperately.

He laughs softly making his way to where I stand until he is standing over me, placing his finger under my chin. He lifts my gaze to meet his before silently dipping to place his lips against mine. His kiss is gentle as he wipes away the tears spilling down my cheeks. I silently place my hands against his chest, holding onto the fabric of his shirt as he pulls away.

“I no longer have use for you, Annalise. Your value lies in what you can offer me, and for now, it is nothing. Am I clear?” he says.

I look up at Cyrus in horror, my fingers falling limp at my side. His expressions, his mood—it all suddenly makes sense. He’s detached himself from me. I see no amusement, no joy when he looks at me, nothing. I am what he hates most in the world. There isn’t an ounce of pity or patience. There’s nothing.

“Cyrus…”

His expression shifts slightly, but he doesn’t react. He doesn’t speak. He opens the door, closing it behind him, knowing I won’t follow. My legs can no longer hold me up as he leaves. I collapse, no longer feeling capable of breathing. My chest heaves as my breathing continually hitches and I press my forehead into the floor as tears spill out uncontrollably. And as my pain manifests itself into the sound of a wail, I toss my head back, letting it be heard over the empty estate.