She frowns, looking down at the cobblestones beneath our feet. “Does Devin know much about Seers?”
“I would assume so. Why?”
She flicks a piece of dust off her knee. “He mentioned something to me. Something about knowing I was‘sick’.”
I stiffen. “What else did he say?”
“He told me not to trust you…” She swings her blue doe eyes up to me. “That you’re a snake.”
I snort, rolling my eyes and looking off into the trees. “Don’t bother with him. He doesn’t like me because had I not left when my brother went missing, he would have never had the position of General. I would have.”
“So if Cyrus already knows you…and Devin…Lady Bethany…” She shakes her head as she scans the tiles beneath her feet with fervor. Working through each thought. Her eyes flick back up to me. “You don’t want to marry Cyrus, and we made the oath based on the fact that you would protect me so I would win and pardon your brother. But then, why are you here in the first place?”
As I open my mouth to respond, her face falls. She whispers, “You made some other deal, haven’t you?”
I stand up. “I can’t talk about it.”
“And why not?” She rises, too. Then snaps her attention down to my hands and back up. “You made a blood oath with someone else too, didn’t you?”
Truthfully, I’m not sure if I have. I glance down at my gloved hands, fishing for a memory I can’t lure out. As far as I remember, the agreement was for me to find the traitor and end her before she kills Cyrus. All for the pardon of my brother. But that was merely done by word. By trust.
I glance back up at her slowly. “No. My agreement isn’t based on a blood oath, but by word.”
“Then surely you can tell me.” She challenges, lifting her chin.
Clenching my jaw, I meet her gaze. Working over part of my inner cheek between my teeth. Until finally, “I’m not here as a contestant for Cyrus’ hand. I’m here to spy on the others.”
She takes a half step back. Twisting her face away so she’s glancing at me sideways. “Here to spy for what exactly?”
“There’s a traitor amongst the women. Cyrus’ Dark Seer had a vision that someone would try to kill him.”
She gasps. Blinking, before she turns to look at the gardens beyond. “So you’re here to find out who and report it back?—”
“No, not exactly,” I mutter.
When she sweeps her gaze to me, I hold it and say, “I’m to kill her.”
Thirty-Two
- CYRUS -
“And we’ve tried to offer a meeting at the border in Dragon’s Back Ridge?” I ask.
Doubt flickers in the council members surrounding the long rectangular table we’re at. There are six dining rooms in the castle, with the main one being reserved for the women staying here. This one is much smaller. Maybe about a quarter of the size. Decorated similarly, with golden floor-standing candelabras and overhead chandeliers to light the space when sunlight isn’t spilling through the cathedral-style windows.
This table can accommodate at least forty chairs. And while it’s been reiterated to me over the last hundred years the need to keep the council smaller now that so much is at stake and there are so many secrets to keep, the empty chairs are still a haunting memory. Of a time when the entire table used to be full.
It seems the more time goes on, the less people I can trust. The more lonely life becomes, the bleaker my outlook.
Edwin, who’s been on my council since the day he turned twenty—sixty years ago, now—shakes his head. Wrinkles line his face, with a white beard dusting his jaw. Another reminder of my immortality—that I will never see a day of aging.
Most might find that envious. But not I. All it means is that, the more time goes on, the more I watch the people around me fade away to age, and then go on to be with the Gods.
And I’m stuck here.
Edwin clears his throat and replies, “King Cyrus, we have tried everything to get Aaric to agree to a meeting. We’ve exhausted all other options. We must start seriously considering war.”
“We can’t just give up so easily,” an elderly woman, Sheri, says. “We have to find another way.”
