With a broken sigh, he drops his head, before answering in a strained whisper, “Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
He straightens before slowly turning to me. “She died. A long time ago.”
His expression is sullen, eyes unwilling to meet mine. I’m completely caught off guard by his expression.
“I-I’m so sorry, Cyrus,” I whisper. “That’s—that’s why you said this marriage wouldn’t be for love? Because your heart still belongs to her?”
“No, that’s not why. I loved her, but it’s been a long, long time. And the…nature of her death still eats at me. I—” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, body tensing. “It was my fault that I couldn’t stop it.”
I swallow. Partly wanting more clarification, but also trying torespect the pain clearly consuming him. Conniving Devin—he was absolutely trying to cause this. To prompt me asking for answers. He didn’t have to say anything at all, if he had truly wanted me not to mention her to Cyrus.
I attempt to steer the conversation toward something a little lighter. “But you do have feelings for someone here?”
His eyes flash, finally looking up at me. “I’m…not sure what to trust nowadays. I don’t think my heart is a reliable source anymore.”
“You kissed Lyra,” I whisper gently. Nearly praying that it meant something to the both of them.
“She told you that?” His voice is neutral, like he isn’t too surprised.
I take a step toward him, looking up in his eyes. “It’s okay to feel something for someone else. You have to let yourself. Otherwise, how do you expect to find yourself a Queen? You’re allowed to fall in love again.”
His eyes search mine. “But what if I don’t want to shut the door on her, on what we had?” he whispers.
Smiling, I shake my head as I take the last step between us to grab his elbow so he’ll consider what I say. “She wouldwantyou to be happy.”
But my encouragement doesn’t shake the seriousness from his expression. My smile starts to erode. My fingers on his elbow are suddenly far too intimate.
I retract my hand.
His eyes never leave mine as he asks softly, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
Unable to free myself from his gentle gaze, I take a pace back. “I’m-I’m…”
He takes a timid step toward me.
Words spill out of my mouth to fill the silence, “I want answers. I’m supposed to trust you, and yet the more time goes on, the farther I feel away from it.”
His eyes fall to the floor, jaw relaxing. At first, he shakes his head. Slowly, then more profusely, as he’s fighting against something raging within his head. He grabs my wrist, then closes the space between us and guides my hand to rest on his cheek. For a quick moment, he turns his nose and mouth into my palm, his breath warm even through my glove. He turns his attention back to me. Something distant and focused all at the same time.
“What are you doing?” I ask quietly, but unable to pull away.
“If you want answers…” He takes a deep breath. His gaze is tender and wholehearted. It stops my breath in my lungs. His eyes flutter down to my lips, heavy and sitting there. Sighing, “Then kiss me, Marcella.”
I blink and shake my head once as if I’ve misheard him. Then his eyes are back on mine, face drifting closer. His forehead bumps my own, eyes fluttering closed as he shakes his head onto mine gently like he’s still struggling in some internal fight.
His voice is gentle, yet strained. “Kiss me, Marcella,please. I can’t beg it of you again.”
My heart leaps in my chest at the raw vulnerability tainting his voice. The pleading. I lick my own lips, flicking a glance down at his.
A tilt of a chin away.
But he just kissed Lyra. He needs to choose Lyra, to marry her. I’m here as a spy. Hired for insider information—not anything more. It’s not worth it. It’ll only overcomplicate the entire reason that I’m here.
I slip my hand out of his, off his cheek as I step back from him. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Marcella,” he nearly whimpers.
