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“It’s a little funny.”
The fate of an era rests upon our lips. I speak prophecies that could crown kings, and his kiss could decide empires when bestowed on the right person, whom I am not. The stakes are so big, they’re absurd. If circumstances were different—well, it’s useless to wonder.
I’ve seen my patrons stumble through life making poor decisions despite what I advise them. But things somehow tip in their favor, and by a narrow window, they avoid heartbreak. They grow old in bliss, because they don’t realize the threads that could have been. They don’t know any better.
The problem is, I always know better.
I can’t see my own threads, but I can imagine them. Iknow I shouldn’t taunt Cyrus. I should bite my tongue and pretend, flatter him and address him by his proper title instead of a childish nickname. I shouldn’t kiss him back. Our entanglement wasn’t inevitable in the way of the stars, but in the way you can only toss so many lit matches at a powder keg before one catches—and I should have stopped tossing matches.
But it’s quiet now. A sliver of curtained light skims the planes of Cyrus’s needlessly fine body, his hair is tousled just so, and he gazes at me like he can see something I can’t, like there’s meaning to this moment.
“I told you not to look at me that way,” I say.
Cyrus lets out a bright laugh and my heart stutters in its beating. He swallows the sound down with an apologetic smile, like he hadn’t meant to let it free, and an impossible wish slices through me, the stupidest, most naive thing—
I wish that what we’re doing were real.
That laugh was real. But Cyrus knows, like I know, that we have our parts to play, and we’ve broken our promises to each other too many times before to take any chances. How different we’d be if we hadn’t been feuding when it mattered most…We might even find safety in our familiarity with each other, instead of suspicion.
I don’t regret the lies I’ve told, nor following his father’s orders, nor keeping that thorn tucked away for so long before I burned it. But I regretthismoment, stolen from a different thread of us where we’re oblivious and happy.
I should’ve never heard him laugh like that.
“Do you remember that prophecy you told me? That rhyme?” Cyrus murmurs.
The journey to love never runs smooth,
and yours, your father would not approve.
“It fits Nadiya.” I swallow the feeling in my throat. “The prophecy didn’t used to, when she was Raya, but now it makes sense.”
“I guess it does fit Nadiya.” He blinks at me, then at the ceiling. “It also fits you.”
They will catch you by surprise, hidden in disguise,
but leave your grasp before midnight strikes.
I surprised him in the maze. I ran from the ball.
And most importantly, his father would be incandescent if he discovered us right now.
My mouth is dry. “What are you saying?”
He doesn’t answer.
I sit up, blood rushing to my head. “Cyrus.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shuts his eyes as he echoes my own words from our last entanglement. “I will be king, and you will be my Seer.”
“You could have anyone. Why do you want me? Why, after all these years—”
He only laughs, weary and strained. “It wasn’tafter.It was always.”
Always.
Always.
He’salwayswanted—
