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Cyrus grumbled something under his breath, but I could not make out what it was. The crowd in the room moved to one side as Tarian helped Maeteo walk the length of the large space, the thud of his cane hitting the floor the only noise beside the uncomfortable shuffling of the visitors.
I grinned as they drew closer, Maeteo’s eyes finding mine and crinkling at the sides as he returned my smile.
“Your Majesties,” Tarian greeted us, bowing his head and slowly stepping away from Maeteo, letting him stand on his own with only the cane to support him.
“Thank you for coming,” I tried to keep my tone formal, but the grin that had plastered itself on my face made that hard. “How are you feeling, General?”
“Not dead, so that’s something.” He smirked, throwing a wink in my direction. “I have something for you.”
“You don’t need to give me anything —“ I started, but Maeteo had already reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small, velvet, drawstring bag.
I stepped down from the dais, not wanting to risk Maeteo injuring himself on the small set of stairs. Cyrus stood from his throne, his hand reaching for my arm as thoughhe meant to stop me but had thought better of it.
Maeteo handed me the small bag, his fingers grazing the palm of my hand as he did so.
“It isn’t much,” He said quietly, “But it reminded me of you, and I know this is how they do things here.”
I opened the delicate bag, tipping it on its side and gasping as a golden chain fell from it. A large, shining emerald was set in a crown of diamonds, dangling on, what looked like, the hilt of a sword. The chain was woven so to look like a golden length of rope, and the early evening light still shining in through the windows made the jewels sparkle.
I let out a gasp, holding the necklace up into the light properly and turning it in every direction, taking in the beauty of it.
“Maeteo,” I whispered, looking from the necklace to his face, “This is beautiful.”
“It’ll suit you, then.” He smiled, his eyes looking almost sad as he did so.
I wrapped my arms around him gently, letting myself hug him close for a fraction of a minute before I took a step back, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
“Thank you, really.” I smiled, reaching out to squeeze the hand that was not holding onto his cane. “I love it.”
Maeteo did not reply, only nodded his head, and smiled at me. His eyes flicked to Cyrus, and after a second of nothing but staring, he dropped his chin in a single, quick nod.
I made my way back up to my throne, and kept the necklace gripped tightly in my hands for the restof the evening.
32
Cyrus
The dungeon door closed behind me with a heavythunk.
In the dull, orange flame light throwing from the already lit wall torches, I could barely make out the silhouette of Saffron, sitting on the floor in front of the only occupied cell down here. I ground my teeth together, shoving my hands into the pockets of my trousers and stepped down from the door.
Twice now the same strange thrum of magic had rippled through the castle, making my skin crawl uncomfortably each time. Cirro had noticed it now, too, and had been starting to ask one too many questions. I had been forced to spike his tea this afternoon, and sneaked away while he was drooling on my couch cushions.
Saffron did not acknowledge my presence as I walked through the dungeon towards her, even though I knew that she knew I was here. Rage bubbled uncomfortably in my stomach, and I sucked a breath in through my nose. I could not wait to be able to kick her out of the castle again, and the thought that that was only a few days away was enough for me to breathe through the uncomfortable burning.
The stifling dampness of the dungeons made my hair stick to the nape of my neck, and I reached up to unbutton the top buttons of my shirt, loosening the collar around my throat and rolled up my sleeves. It seemed ridiculous to me, to keep the dungeon this warm, but Cirro had insisted it was easier to keep people alive and uncomfortable than it was to freeze them and remove their bodies. I had not argued. If there was anything Cirro knew about from working with my father before me, it was inhumane torture methods.
My boots kicked up clouds of dirt as I crossed through the dungeon, stopping close enough to Saffron that she could not ignore me anymore. She was passing small, broken up pieces of bread through the bars of the cell, and they were being snatched away by dirty, grey hands. I sneered at the sight of them, my eyes moving from them to the cloud of glamour that had been placed over his face. I could tell he was staring right back at me, and I did nothing to hide my disgust.
From here I could only see the scars on his thighs, but I knew they continued upwards, over his hips and back and to the back of his neck. Part of me wished Saffron hadhad the common sense to cover them as well.
“What are you doing in here?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from the prisoner and nudging Saffron’s leg with the toe of my boot, leaving a dust covered print on the dark fabric of her dress.
Saffron finally turned her head, her wide eyes staring up at me as the picture of innocence.
“Simply paying a visit,” She smiled, her voice sickly sweet. She took the bread that was left and handed it through the bars of the cell, “Here you go, darling boy.”
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest as the prisoner took the bread greedily and scurried away from the bars, his chains clanking against the ground noisily.
