Besides, I was beginning to suspect his manipulations and plans went much further than I imagined. I’d found his notes that contained facts about others—but there was nothing about his own plans.
I needed more, and I was determined to get it. I would take what I needed, starting with insisting that Cyrus tell me all he knows. I’d continue to gather information and when I had enough, I would ascertain my freedom. Even if I needed to hide out in some remote spot of Celesterra. Somewhere in all of Adamahmustbe safe. If necessary, I would flee to another continent like Gemaria or Weathrian, as long as it meant my life would become my own.
I said my goodbyes to Priscilla as I made my way out of the room. Turning back from the door, I looked around the grand living space. Cyrus was sprawled out on one of the sofas, a glass of wine in his hand. He slowly swirled his glass as I walked over and took a seat on the opposite sofa. I sank back into the plush cushions, enveloping myself in its luxurious feel. Cyrus looked me over, his gaze like a brand as it traveled over me.
“What do you want to know, Asteria?” Cyrus sipped his wine leisurely, sprawling across the couch like he was without a care in the world.
“You know what I want to know. What is going on?” I narrowed my eyes, calculating. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s actually going on here.”
“Surely, you must realize there is much I have not told you.” Cyrus sighed dramatically. “There is always something unraveling, at all times. My father and brother constantly fight against me. My mother and I must fight fire with fire. Or—lightning with lightning.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me in a playful manner, but I just rolled my eyes at him.
“Night Kingdom is our biggest problem. Lady Siria is still loyal to her cousin, despite her honeyed words. The royal family of Night have always had closer family ties than the rest of the royal families have managed with our blood and houses.” Cyrus’s eyes met mine, and his countenance grew more troubled as a burdened sigh left his lips. “Siria was close with Calix when they were younger, and there’s no reason to suspect that’s changed. Having my commander leading this group ensures I have eyes on the situation.”
“The situation?” I pressed, raising a brow.
“Yes, there has to be a reason they are asking for support against supposed attacks, when Calix would never attack his cousin.” He shook his head, a storm brewing in his eyes that reflected in his furrowed brow. He may act like he didn’t have a care in the world, but there seemed to be a great many burdens weighing on him behind the cavalier attitude. “They are at no risk there. If they are seeing strikes against them as they claim, they are likely faked so we don’t suspect them. My father was a fool to grant their request, but perhaps it will prove worthwhile if my man finds something.”
“What of the king himself?” I rubbed my forehead, exhausted. This family and their machinations. I didn’t feel prepared to ask about his mother. Not yet—not when just the thought of thequeen made me shudder; not when Cyrus was aligned so closely with her. “Do you have a spy on him?”
Cyrus eyed me, seeming to debate something in his head. He appeared to make a decision as he leaned upwards from his sprawl, leaning towards me.
“I have tried. Repeatedly. But my father is ever paranoid. If myself or my siblings so much as speak to a slave and my father hears of it, he won’t use them. He’s wary of one of us killing him off to take the throne. Not that I blame him.” He mused absentmindedly.
My jaw dropped. Did that mean—
Would Cyrus—
Would he attempt to take his own father out?!
The thought was incredibly disturbing—still, Cyrus was sharing information, so I swallowed my disgust and leaned in conspiratorially. Let him think what he will. Each moment of this conversation was another piece on the game board revealed, allowing me to use them to my advantage.
“If I can find a way to turn one of the slaves he takes,” Cyrus continued on, not sparing a thought for the horrendous thing he just said. “I can finally get eyes on him. There’s one girl you spoke to multiple times. If my father chose her, would you be able to turn her? Or at least, get her to give you information you can pass along?”
The question made goosebumps rise along my arms, as he turned considering eyes toward me.
I stared at Cyrus, unable to comprehend the way this man’s mind worked. And—how did he know about Emmie? She was the only one I ever spoke to aside from Priscilla, but I’d never done so in front of him.
“Who?” I tried to play dumb, thinking that was my best option.
“The girl you met with in the slave quarters.” Cyrus replied dryly, leveling a look at me. “—Servant’s quarters.” He quicklycorrected, but it was obvious he didn’t much care. attempting,poorly—to distract me. He seemed to think that merely not referring to humans as slaves would be enough to get me into his bed, an endgame he considered an inevitability. All it did was show his fundamental misunderstanding of the problem.
I didn’t bother asking how he knew about Emmie, but I made a note to be more careful so his spies wouldn’t report on me. They were supposed to be coming directly to me first. Which made me think twice, as it meant Cyrus either had one or multiple spies that reported directly to him on me and what I did throughout the castle. I twitched, holding back a full body shudder at that thought.
“I’m not sure.” I replied finally, not liking the idea of involving Emmie in this mess. I didn’t want Cyrus to assume she’d be interested in such a scheme either.
Of course, she likelywouldbe interested, but I wanted to hedge my bets.
“How would you ensure that your father picked her?” I asked, voice wobbling. I hated how uncertain I sounded, suddenly afraid for Emmie. She was ambitious, but I didn’t want to see that eagerness to rise higher backfire on her.
“All my father really needs is to have her dangled in front of him.” Cyrus smirked slowly, doubling the fear I worried showed on my face. “Just a few choice words would direct his attention, and he’d be demanding to see her immediately.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to dangle Emmie as bait for the king. I only wanted Cyrus to ultimately help me in my own plans. But I had little choice, in the end. A slave doesn’t have options—we have orders. Still—
“Is there not someone else we could use?” I dared ask, wincing when a sharp glare was leveled on me. Cyrus’s eyes roved over my face as he leaned towards me. I tried to hide the flinch as I waited for my question to backfire.
“I allow you to ask your questions, but do not interfere with my plans, darling.” Cyrus reached out and grabbed my chin, hard. I tried to cringe back, but he held fast to my face. “I have been waiting years for a chance to get a spy that my father doesn’t realize is connected to me. This is my opportunity. Do you understand?”
Cyrus’s fingers dug into my chin until I whimpered, his eyes lit up with bolts of lightning as his displeasure with my slight resistance radiated from him.
