Page 25 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“You have.”

“Not to you.”

“The entire hierarchy heard your story.”

“And yet, you’re the only one who won’t look me in the eyes.”

Pointedly—apparently, painfully—he lolled his head sideways to glare at me. “Happy?”

“Elated.”

“Where are the others?”

“Can’t stand thirty seconds alone with your mate?” My words made him flinch, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze dropped. He was pulling something from his pocket as I rounded the long table, relieved he didn’t immediately retreat.

“I’ve already told you. Mates can be platonic.”

Knife, meet heart. It was a fight to clear my damned throat. “And you also vowed to choose me, always.”

“I’m not interested in reliving the past.”

“Some things require discussion, Cyrus.”

“Have I failed?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Have I failed you, Your Majesty?”

“Cyrus, I⁠—”

He cut in, “Failed to send my most trusted shadows after Nix? Not to mention Poe?” Ravens had found their bodies days later, the guilt still heavy on my chest even knowing that psycho was to blame. The loyalists who’d helped him flee while we defended Santa Bloom had yet to be rooted out either. But Cyrus wasn’t done. “Not protected you with my life? With my men’s lives?”

“Cyrus—”

“How many diplomatic meetings have I taken with King Cadoc of the northern rift on your behalf?” Plastic wrapping crinkled faintly. Try as he might, Cyrus hadn’t been able to secure an alliance with the Paladin faction nestled in Appalachia. Resources? Yes. Their blades? Never. He popped a strawberry hard candy into his mouth before speaking around it. “Beyond that, have I failed to stand beside you on a single mission that’s pulled you from base?”

“I’m not talking about duty.” On that front, he’d gone through all the motions like a well-trained, fury-fueled robot. Stiff. Precise. And then removed himself the instant it was an option.

“There is nothing else to discuss.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“I was going to tell you,” I blurted, flinching when he did. “That night—the night she took you and handed you to that monster—I was going to tell you the truth. The whole story. She robbed me of the chance.” This wasn’t how I’d wanted to have this conversation—I hadn’t wanted to confess the truth like vomiting gravel at his feet. But for three goddamn months, we’d slaughtered demons and Renown, kept tabs on August, and fortified our hierarchy without a moment to breathe, much less talk.

Evidently, my anger had risen slowly, like a pot inevitably damned to boil over and scald us both.

“As you’ve said.” He pushed his candy between his cheek and molars.

“That was why I picked your flat. Your side of the river. You had to have the advantage. You had to have options after I confessed.”

“This is unnecessary.”

“I disagree.”

“Evidently.”