The dog watched, never intervening.
Wounds abounded and furniture broke. Neither man showed mercy. At this rate, they would both die.
Unsure of what else to do, I went low and swiped my leg out, sweeping Felix off his feet. As he fell, I threw myself between the combatants, holding Cyrus back with an arm extended. He could’ve easily knocked me aside and resumed the battle, but he stood in place, glaring down at his opponent, a predator with his sights on tasty prey.
He was panting. So was I. Blood leaked from a gash on his brow, bruises already forming along his jaw.
A bleeding Felix vaulted to his feet as Lolli and Summit rushed into the room. Like us, they still wore their formal wear. They were rumpled, as if they’d just woken up.
She looked between the fighters and smiled, as if she’d just won an award. “You struck at each other. You’re disqualified.”
I fisted my hands, tempted to take a swing. Wasn’t likeIwas in the running for king.
“I have permission,” the brothers snapped in unison, and Lolli paled.
The high princess sputtered, unable to form words. When she collected herself, she faced Summit, demanding, “Do you have permission to strike at us?”
The usually amused good-time guy bared his teeth and shook his head. “I have the opposite.”
So. Only Felix and Cyrus. Had the emperor expected the pair to come to blows? Did he know more than we’d realized?
“I’m not finished with you,” Cyrus snapped at Felix before clasping my hand and leading me out.
“Same, brother,” Felix called.
The meta followed us as we marched out, but Cyrus shut our bedroom door in its face, keeping it out. I led the high prince to the living room couch and rushed to collect the first aid kit. When I returned, I found him reclined where I’d left him, staring up at the ceiling. He stopped me as I began cleaning the gash on his brow.
“I’ll do this,” he said, his tone deadened. “You should prepare for the day. We spent most of the night in the library.”
Pang. “We should talk about what happened.”
“And we will. Later.”
“Let me hold you, then.”Please.He’d never needed comfort more.
“Later,” he repeated. “I’m not currently at my best.” He kissed my cheek, rose, and strode off, closing himself inside one of two sleeping units designed for couples who preferred to sleep alone in case the other broke with Madness.
I sat there for a long while, feeling more and more hollowed out from the inside. Which didn’t do anyone any good. There were passages from my books to unravel.
Determined, I headed to the other room, stripped in the private bathroom, and stepped into the shower stall. Warm water rained over me, and I moaned. I’d needed this.
As I washed up, I set aside thoughts of Felix and pondered my predicted future with Cyrus. The bigger problem. How Astan intended to claim him ... how it looked like the god was succeeding. How Cyrus and I would one day face off on a battlefield.
Forget what I might do to him. What happened to my allies before the face-off?
According to the passage:More will die today if I don’t stop Cyrus.
In a blink, my world merged with another. I remained in the shower, but I also stood on a body-littered battlefield, with a blood-streaked Cyrus across the distance.
Shock bowed my body. This was a vision, the book passage I’d read seeming to unfold outside of time, part of the past, present, and future all at once.
“It doesn’t have to end this way, Arden,” a grinning Cyrus called, his taunt as shocking as his appearance. The suns highlighted his missing facial brand. The handprint was just ... gone.
In the present, I reeled. Though I didn’t move my mouth, I heard myself retort, “You’re right. Walk away, and I’ll spare you.”
His grin turned wry even as he spread his arms and thin, snakelike shadows seeped from his fingertips, coiled up, and banded around his neck. I could only watch, dumbfounded. He’d done it. In this version of the future, he’d accepted Astan.
“I admit, your new confidence is adorable,” he said.
