Cyrus reached over, fingers running through my dark hair until he took a piece of it and twirled it around his finger. His eyes shot to me as he did so, and I did my best to hide my thoughts behind a placid smile. I knew Cyrus wouldn’t appreciate his sister or anyone else discovering the truth of our relationship.
“She is.” Twyla grudgingly admitted, sounding disgruntled by that fact. “But by Shalim, Cyrus, she’s still human.” She looked at me accusingly, like I was the Siren here, luring her brother off course. I nearly laughed at the thought.
“And?” Cyrus replied, his tone silky and dangerous. His body stilled completely beside me, alarm bells now screaming in my ears. He eyed his sister with the stillness only the Fae were capable of, a clear warning to tread carefully. I sucked in a breath as he slowly let go of my hair, turning in his seat to face Twyla.
Twyla gulped at his demand. Her fate hanging in the balance as Cyrus baited her, wanting to see if she would continue to challenge him. The danger in his tone dared her to test him and see what happened. She looked torn for a moment, before that submissiveness I’d seen before seemed to pull back over her like a veil.Protection, I realized. To survive her siblings, she’d learned to don a veil of meekness.
A part of me felt furious on her behalf. In Fae society, the females were second to the males. Kings and lords ruled lands, while queens and ladies served them. A female royal had never been chosen by the gods to be the heir to a kingdom, and the Fae males took that as confirmation that females were somehowlessthan them—that they were not designed to rule, but to serve.
I took a subtle deep breath, calming the wave of rage rising within me—for Twyla, for the females of this world, human or Fae. I remembered my father’s words before I was placed, that I needed to control my temper and keep my head. My fingers curled into my dress, my knuckles going white from the pressure as I tried to calm myself.
By the Otherworld, Twyla was here arguing that I was a measly human, something to be tossed away—and yet, I couldn’t help the sympathy that stirred within me, nonetheless. The women of this world were all dealing with a variety of the same thing. We may be in different classes or races, but even those at the top ofthe hierarchy were pushed down it by the men in their lives. I barely heard the rest of their conversation, caught up in battling my own feelings, trying to remain still, and keeping a placid smile in place.
Smile and nod.My mother once told me that when a man or those of higher station spoke, to just smile and nod. That lesson had been drilled into me since my earliest memories, my mother insisting it would keep me safe.
I used my mother’s lessons here, keeping Cyrus’s weaponized attention off of me.Thanks, mom,I thought wistfully.
“Well, I wish you luck, Asteria.” Twyla said, turning towards me as she and Cyrus finally stood. I followed suit as the rules and protocols demanded, giving the royals the due they thought owed to them. “You’ll need it.” She winked, a smirk lining her face that set my teeth on edge.
“Princess Twyla.” I replied blandly, curtseying deeply as I maintained my own meek facade until her steps reached the door. I watched as Cyrus whispered something in her ear, her face paleing rapidly, but I couldn’t for the life of me hear it from my position by the sofa.
As soon as Twyla turned and exited the room, I sighed and fell back into my seat. Cyrus’s chuckle made me lift my head. When I blinked wearily, I opened my eyes to find him kneeling in front of me. Cyrus cupped my cheek, reminding me of the last time we did this. I tried to keep my shock in check, tried to forget how for a moment, his lips had felt gentle and sweet against mine.
“Don’t worry about Twyla. She’s dim, and fairly harmless.” Cyrus said, in what I’m sure he thought was a soothing voice. “She prefers to amuse herself with shifting and flying off to the less populated lands to the East, where she can run in her pegasus form and fly unencumbered. She has no real ambition for anything else, least of all the crown.”
I considered his words as his thumb skated down my cheek and towards my lips, his blue eyes stuck on them now. His brown hair fell to his shoulders, swaying as he leaned slightly forward toward me. His thumb ran across my bottom lip, tracing it, and I tried thinking through the shiver it caused.
Twyla wasn’t dim, that I knew. It was clearly a front, and one I was shocked Cyrus didn’t see through. This was vital information. A little tidbit I’d keep in my mental file and find a way to use to my advantage later. If I was going to find a way to beat Cyrus at his own game, information like that was worth its weight in gold.
I decided to keep my mouth shut and not give any word of warning to Cyrus that his sister was much more cunning than he thought. Not that he’d believe me anyway. Men always believed they knew best, and refused to discuss options once their minds were made up.
I once got into an argument with Soren, as he refused to believe that the moon was a dragon, the son of Erebus. He insisted the creation story couldn’t be true, that the first moon wasn’t an egg, and had never fallen and hatched into the first dragon. Despite the fact that the son of that dragon and Erebus became the first king of the Night Kingdom, while the other child became the moon we know today. I believed the myth had truth to it, but he refused to hear a word and called me silly for believing fanciful stories.
I’d always loved the tale, however. How the other king of the gods, Earendel, also had two children with the dragon to keep the balance. One child becoming the first king of Day Kingdom, and the other flying into the sky and lighting up the world as our sun. The stories of the sky always enthralled me, but Soren brushed them off, refusing to consider I was right.
Cyrus and Soren were as different as could be, but on this one point, they were in tune with one another—they didn’t listen, certain that they were infallible.
Cyrus released a breath of air as he leaned in, placing the slightest brush of a kiss against my lips. He didn’t linger however, perhaps sensing my mood. Instead he stood, offering me a hand up, and we went to go about our day as normal now that the interruption was over.
Cyrus worked at his desk while I alternated between reading a book and going over spy reports and budgets. When I finally grew bored of the tedium of work and my eyes began to hurt from squinting at numbers for much too long to even attempt more, I made my way to the slave’s quarters. I spent time with Emmie and a disgruntled-as-usual Eris. Cyrus’s plans ringing in my ears and an ominous feeling rising over what was to come.
As I fell to sleep later that night, that apprehension returned tenfold. But not about Emmie. Twyla’s visit and her claim about wanting to see me, didn’t sit right in my mind. Something was going on, and Cyrus was oblivious to it. My instinct told me that it wouldn’t be long before whatever it was came to a head, however.
The next afternoonmy rising dread coalesced into a summons. For Cyrus—and me. I was personally named in the message from the king to appear before him. Cyrus seethed as he called Priscilla to quickly change my dress into an even more elaborate one. One that he considered appropriate for me to wear when we appeared before his father. Priscilla rushed over quickly, and once Cyrus was gone and we were well on the way to having me ready, Priscilla turned to me.
“Princess Daneiris is up to something.” She whispered, a thread of panic in her tone. “And it’s something to do with you,Asteria. She’s going to be waiting in the throne room. Youmustbe careful.”
“Me? What could she want with me?” I asked, shaking my head in confusion. This certainly wasn’t what I expected, and my disquiet increased tenfold, until I felt it in my Otherworld damned throat.
“I don’t know.” Priscilla’s tone was so frayed, her worry coming through loud and clear. “I tried to find out but…she knows I help attend you. I think she was worried that I’d tell you, which, let’s be honest, I totally would have.” I giggled in response, but Priscilla was too worried, biting her lip as her warm brown eyes filled with unshed tears.
“It’s going to be alright.” I soothed her as I leaned in and put my arms around her. “Let’s finish armoring me up for court, and I’ll go find out what this is all about. “
I couldn’t help the hug I gave her. She nearly collapsed in my arms, but I stiffened slightly. By the Old Gods, what was I doing? Priscilla may be helping me put on metaphorical armor for court, but she was also breaking through the armor I’d used my whole life. I needed to remind myself of the pain getting too close to others could cause, so I pulled back and gave her a reassuring smile.
Priscilla’s smile was relieved as she rushed to help me finish dressing. As soon as we were done, I made my way out to the solar to meet Cyrus. He quickly ushered me out the door and down the halls, my heart beating out of control the whole way.
Why was I being called before the king? What was Princess Daneiris up to? Cyrus, sure, I could see them targeting him. Butme? I was nobody to them. This had to have something to do with Twyla and her little visit. As we walked through the hallways, I felt the gaze of past kings bearing down on me. I looked away from the walls and down to the floor, following the lines in the marble seen around the edges of the halls, where thecarpet didn’t conceal it. Their elaborate lines gave me something to focus on to calm myself as we walked. They swirled in and out in increasingly enchanting patterns.
