“I just – I just remembered,” she said. “I can’t swim.”
There was no fear in her voice, only mild surprise – as if this were all a stroke of bad luck, a disappointing inconvenience. Cyrus didn’t point out that she wouldn’t have been able to swim anyway, given that she’d lost feeling in her legs. He only closed his eyes against her hair and fought the desperate crush of his chest, the violence of his affection for her. How she managed to disarm him even now, on the brink of death, he could not understand. She’d wept for his pain, wiped the blood from his eyes, taken an arrow in the back for him. She’d shown him more loyalty and tenderness in two days than he’d ever felt in his life, and he knew then, with a force that drove the air from his lungs, that he would never survive her.
“Don’t worry, angel,” he said quietly. “You won’t have to.”
Kaveh gave a small roar, exhaling sparks as he approached. Cyrus felt the dragon’s confusion, then concern, and communicated without speaking, as he often did with animals –
I’ll explain later.
Kaveh made another sound in response, a snort that nearly singed the king’s hair. The flap of the beast’s enormous wings was enough to whip Alizeh’s curls across Cyrus’s face, and as he struggled to push the tendrils out of his eyes, the animal swooped neatly beneath them, breaking their fall with a complete lack of finesse. Cyrus fumbled desperately for purchase with his injured hand, grasping at the dragon’s hide to stabilize their bodies while he pulled Alizeh across his lap, hoping to absorb the brunt of the impact; given their tremendous downward speed, this proved nearly impossible.Alizeh gave a sharp cry as they were seated, while Cyrus, who’d made no sound at all, nearly fainted from the pain.
Of all things, he sensed Kaveh laughing at him.You all right, sire?
Cyrus did not dignify this with a response.
His every muscle taut with restraint, it was slow moments before the southern king could breathe again, before the haze cleared from his eyes. As they gently ascended through mist and cascades, Cyrus was able to discern screams from above, and when he craned his neck he could almost make out the shapes of the shouting idiots, their foggy forms tilting precariously over the crag, shrieks all but incomprehensible save a single: “Dragon!”
Kaveh was moving slowly for the sake of their injuries, and the higher they flew, the more Cyrus relented to an overpowering relief. The feeling hollowed out, however, when he realized Alizeh had grown lifeless, even as she trembled violently in his arms.
“Alizeh,” he whispered. “Please. Wake up.”
She didn’t respond.
He knew he should inspect her wound in order to assess the damage, but Cyrus himself was in a horrible state of disrepair. His injured hand was now all but matted in blood, the affected arm convulsing as his fingers sparked and faded with sensation. His leg, at least, had received some magical care, but though the wound had stopped bleeding, it gaped open, a neat hole blown straight through muscle, radiating pain. Still, he couldn’t do more for his own damage; he feared he might need to save what magic he had left for Alizeh.
His breathing was strained as he turned her slightly in his arms, the movement jostling her injury despite his best efforts to be careful. He expected her to gasp or at least flinch in response, but she remained motionless; her eyes were closed; her face drawn and pale. Even her trembling had begun to slow.
Cyrus struggled to hide his panic.
Urgently he whispered her name, willing her to speak, to open her eyes. He wanted her to yell at him, to threaten him, to pester him with her endless questions. There were no demands from her to know what was happening; no smart quips about the dragon; no threats to fling herself into the water just to be away from him. All this struck Cyrus like a blow to the sternum, and when he finally sighted her injury, he was dealt another: the arrowhead was lost in the folds of her borrowed cloak, at least three inches embedded in her flesh. Given the complexities of the barbed broadhead, it would not be a simple matter to remove the bolt – and he was in no state to offer her proper surgical and magical care.
There was only one other alternative – and Cyrus hoped she would forgive him for it, later.
“Kaveh,” he said. “She needs to be delivered to the Diviners.”
He felt at once the dragon’s disapproval.All due respect, sire, but you’re not allowed there anymore. You know that.
“Of course I know that,” said Cyrus, his mood darkening.As if he needed such a reminder. “You will leave me at the cliff, then take her alone.”
Cold quiet from the animal. They were hovering in midair now, stalled.
Please, Cyrus added silently.
But why, sire? Yaasi said you and the girl nearly killed each other on the flight back from Ardunia. Wouldn’t it be better if she died? You said she was the devil’s bride.
“A great deal has changed since we last spoke,” said the king, wincing as his leg spasmed. “I was wrong about her. She’s not allied with Iblees – and she was injured just now trying to save my life.”
Kaveh gave no response to that, though his surprise was loud.
“I know,” Cyrus said quietly. “I don’t understand, either. I’ve given her nothing but cause to murder me.”
More surprise.And she doesn’t know? About your father?
Alizeh’s eyelids fluttered briefly, and Cyrus hesitated. The bruise along her cheekbone appeared swollen and tender, the sight both devastating and confounding to him. He didn’t know why she’d been lying on the ground this morning nor how she’d been injured; and given their collective response to the drama, it seemed unlikely her friends had been the ones to harm her, leaving no obvious suspect. It was yet another mystery he’d have to wait to unravel, and Cyrus, feeling both weak and helpless, finally allowed himself to stare at her. He studied the exquisite planes of her face, the fullness of her lips, lashes soft and inky against her pallid skin. It was dangerous to allow himself to linger, memorizing details – for the more he grew to care for her, the more unbearable it became to look at her.
Cyrus tore his eyes away, fresh bitterness fouling his mood further. “No,” he said finally. “She doesn’t know.”
She would never know.
