He heard it all, of course – their collective shock, their shouted questions, their in-fighting – but he turned his back on it, feeling certain now that Hazan would keep the prince from any further attempts at murder. Cyrus needed to magic Alizeh upright so she’d survive the journey to the Diviners, and, as his mind was splintering with pain gathered from any number of grievances, he needed a moment to focus.
There were great risks involved.
Draining his store of magic would leave him deeply vulnerable to attack – and worse, would send him into a spiral of fatigue. He hadn’t slept in over forty-eight hours; between sleep deprivation and blood loss, he wondered how he’d manage basic motor skills. He’d need to get to his rooms as quickly as possible after performing this last bit of divination for Alizeh, but how he’d accomplish that with this troupe of clowns to contend with, he didn’t know.
Cyrus took a deep breath, a tremor rocking his body as he exhaled. He gathered Alizeh gently against his chest, pressed his good hand as close as he could to her wound, and, with great effort, transferred the remaining magic in his body directly into hers.
He felt the change in her, the pulse of energy returning to her limbs, and she cried out in response, this breathless sound sending his small audience into renewed chaos – “She’s not dead!She’s not dead!” – even as her cry soon dissolved into a whimper. He couldn’t heal her, not with the arrow in her back; but he’d lent her some pain relief, at least, and he was certain she’d now remain seated until reaching her destination. It was enough for now – it had to be – because just as her eyes fluttered open, Cyrus nearly swayed. Without magic to keep him awake, he was suddenly so tired he felt he’d lost control of his limbs. Cyrus, who’d never touched spirits, imagined the feeling was akin to being drunk.
Miraculously, he lifted her off his lap and sat her on the dragon, satisfied when she didn’t pitch sideways. Still, his thoughts seemed to slur. “Go,” he breathed, digging deep for the last of his adrenaline. “Promise me – promise you’ll take care of her.”
“What?” Alizeh was squinting at him.
Cyrus startled. He hadn’t expected her to speak, and he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Still, she appeared only half-awake, her head canting to one side even as her body remained upright.
Blearily, she said, “Who are you talking to?”
His heart was beating faster now. “My dragon,” he said.
“Oh.” A little line formed between her brows. “You have a dragon?”
“I – Yes.”
“Just like you did before.” She stifled a yawn, her eyes closing. “Do I get one, too?”
Cyrus frowned. “Would that… please you?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“All right.” He blinked slowly. “You can have a dragon.”
Kaveh’s head gave a sudden jerk, smoke curling from his nostrils.Are you quite out of your mind, sire?You willnotgive the girl a dragon.
Cyrus bristled.You live under my protection, in service of the crown. I’ll give her a dragon if I like.
Well it won’t be me.
“Cyrus?”
“Yes?”
“Why are people shouting?”
With effort, Cyrus glanced at the others. Kamran was threatening from afar to disembowel him; the three goons were in various states of hysteria; and Hazan looked as if he was contemplating a running leap off the cliff and onto the dragon. Terrible idea, that.
“I suppose people shout sometimes,” he said as he turned to her.
“Cyrus?”
He felt delirious. He was staring at her with the awe of an idiot perceiving the sun for the first time. He nearly drew his hand down her cheek. Nearly kissed the side of her neck. Nearly slumped against her and fell asleep. “Yes, angel?”
“We died, didn’t we?”
The question was such a surprise he briefly jolted awake, and was about to deny it when she spoke again.
“We died and we’re together – and we’re not in hell,” she murmured. She nearly tipped over, but the magic yanked her upright. “And you got a dragon. Maybe I’ll get a dragon.”
He swallowed.
