“My King?” Devin calls from the other side of the closed door. “Are you in here?”
Cyrus clears his throat and answers, “Yes, come in.”
The door squeaks open, and Devin stands there in his golden armor. Looking at Cyrus before quickly focusing on me. His eyes catch mine, before flicking down to my feet, then back up to my face. “I see you’re awake and feeling well enough to stand?”
“Yes,” I answer.
He drags his attention off me back to Cyrus. “I went back to the infirmary to look for you, and Elder Fredrick said you were gone. So, pardon the intrusion. But a letter from Millton arrived for you.” He retrieves a scroll and holds it out.
Cyrus straightens, dipping his head firmly, and takes it.
Devin continues, “I can escort Lyra to join the rest of the ladies in the library if you want to attend to that quickly.”
Cyrus clears his throat and lowers the scroll to his side. “Right. Thank you, Devin.” He looks back at me with a distant smile. “If you wish to stay here a bit longer, you’re more than welcome. Otherwise, I look forward to seeing you later.”
He dips his head and leaves me alone with Devin. I slide my gaze back to the counter. No longer hungry, but not wanting to let my blush be seen by the General.
I pick up a carved strawberry and take a bite as Devin murmurs, “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, so quickly.”
Swallowing, I work to figure out how to respond. Because as I woke up, Devin had whispered about knowing ofmyillness. About possibly sending me home because of it. So how would he know, and why would he allowme to participate if my illness could jeopardize my standing? And aside from my weakened physique, what exactly does my illness entail?
“Thank you…” I slide my attention to him and say before taking another bite, “I must not have eaten enough.”
His eyebrows quirk up, clearly announcing his thoughts. “Really? Lyra, you and I both know that’s not true.”
“I hadn’t eaten in days.”
“Because you weresick?”
I can’t tell if he’s questioning my reasoning, or if he’s questioning if I was actually sick. Not because I was locked in my room by Lady Bethany.
“I can get you your medicine, you know,” he whispers and takes a step toward me. “Nobody has to know.”
I freeze. Scanning him head to toe to determine whether I should be frightened or relieved.
He holds out a splayed hand. “You can trust me.”
“What do you want from me?”
He flinches at my brazenness. And when he shakes his head, I press, “You are Cyrus’ right-hand man. Many would consider not disclosing my illness to him an act of treason. So…what is it you want, that you might risk such an accusation? Why help me?”
He slowly lowers his hand to his side. “You don’t recall what I asked for?”
“No,” I breathe. Steadying myself back against the counter. “Should I?”
“Yes, you should. We’ve gone over this many times.”
I squint at him as if it’ll help me remember. “You know I have little memory.”
A silence falls between us as he approaches me, his eyes scanning my face when he gently tips my chin up. My entire body goes rigid. My pulse throbbing in my throat as his attention flicks down to my neck. He softly guides me by the chin to tilt my head side to side, before dropping his hand.
His stubbled jaw clenches. “There’s something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”
Surely the scratches on my neck aren’t there anymore as no one else noticed them but Aelia and Nora. Unless I was given medication in the infirmary again. In which case, perhaps he saw it when he carried me there. Subconsciously, I rest a hand on my throat and slide farther away from him, shaking my head.
He follows after me. “There’s something you’re keeping from me. Is it about Marcella?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
