Chapter 50: Fifty
I wasn’t sure what I expected.
But it sure as hell wasn’t a raven haired man with the prettiest light blue eyes I’d ever seen.
Prince Cyrus was pretty handsome for a human. Tall, sinewy muscles, draped in the finery of ivory and gold that made his beautiful skin stand out. He was the kind of man who knew he was attractive and didn’t bother to be modest about it.
And he has been staring at me from across the table all night.
I hadn’t even said a word to him. All I did was what Lucien told me to. Courtesy. Speak softly as you introduce yourself. Meet his gaze ever so slightly. And then, dismiss him completely.
When Lucien initially proposed the idea to me, I’d chucked the pomegranate at his head and told him he could get into bed with the human prince if he so badly needed that information. I wasn’t about to let him trade me off.
But somehow, I had let him convince me into doing it, the crazy man with his honeyed tongue. He had talked me into this scandalous red dress, the high slits exposing my calves and the corset doing wonders for my small breasts. He had talked me into letting the maids tug and pull at my scalp until my hair was in an elegant updo with curls that teased my face. And he had instructed them to paint said face. Not so much, just to accentuate what already was.
And so, I found my eyelids darkened, my lips coated in blood red lipstick.
I hate it, and I know Lucien found it hilarious, even if he said nothing and wouldn’t stop staring.
Either way, it worked out well for him. I have the Prince of Voss’s complete attention. And if I’m being honest... it isn’t so bad.
The air is thick with the scent of venison and wine, soft feminine laughter and loud boisterous male laughter. At the head of the table trade routes, taxes and troop movements are being discussed, and somehow, every time Prince Cyrus speaks, heads turn. Lips curve into smiles. Even stone faced Margot hides a laugh behind her fingers.
"I never knew you had another daughter, Your Highness," Cyrus says, his light blue eyes catching mine again before flicking toward Margot with a knowing curve of his lips. "Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Beauty like that must be hereditary."
The table quietens and like Lucien bids me to, I ignore him, taking slow sips from my wine like I am not the current topic of conversation.
"Lovely, isn’t she?" Margot croons. "If you must know you both share a good number of interests."
His black brow rises on his skin dusted with gold. "Oh?"
"Yes," Lucien cuts in from the head of the table. I wasn’t sure he was listening, but I suppose that strikes out the doubt. His eyes rest lazily on me. "She is one of the best forms I’ve seen."
A few sits down, Lilith laughs a little too loudly, covering it with a cough when every head snaps her way. She covers her lips. "The wine," she lies and shoots me a venomous smile.
I return it with a sweet one, before lowering my head in practiced deference to Lucien. "You flatter me, my liege."
"Nonsense," Lucien claps. To Cyrus he says, "Perhaps, you may grant us one show before you leave? You once said a worthy opponent makes it all the more worthwhile."
Cyrus lifts his goblet towards Lucien with a pretty smile, but his eyes are on me. "But, of course, princess."
I thought gaining Prince Cyrus’s interest was all of it. Now, I need to spar with him, too?
Don’t look so glum, princess.
I glare across the table, and though I know Lucien isn’t looking at me, he can feel my gaze. Get out of my head.
Say please.
I send him a mental image of my middle finger instead and I hear his laughter echo along the walls of my mind before his presence finally recedes.
After another while yet of more talking, just when I’m beginning to fall asleep in my chair, Cyrus rises from his seat, bowing his raven head low to Lucien. "I am grateful for the meal. For your hospitality. Dare I ask that I retire for the night? I barely had enough time to look around the castle when I came in. I would love to take a walk. And if you are so kind as to lease me a companion to show me around. Perhaps I might see the famous Lake of Starlight. I hear no painter, no poet can capture it’s beauty."
Lucien nods, violet gaze flicking to the guards. "Silverthorn--"
"Forgive me," Cyrus says with a breathy laugh. "I’d prefer not to walk around with the guards. If I wished to, I have my entourage to accompany me." And then Cyrus pins me with his washed blue stare like rare stones. "Lady Nythorn, if you would please."
I do not process the words quickly. The silk feels uncomfortable on my skin, the corset poking at my ribs. I had been in the process of sifting it around when his question came.
My head whips left and right and I point at my face. "Me?" Hell, I didn’t even know there was a whole lake in the castle. He’s asking me to show him around? Could he be any more obvious?
He nods earnestly and before I can even think of responding, Valerian chirps in, into my head, a tad too cheery about this for my liking. This is a chance as good as any. Remember. The sooner you’re able find out the truth, the sooner this charade comes to an end.
So, I rise, curtseying graceful. "I would be glad to."
I’m beginning to wonder if the only thing people do at Court is lie.
I feel Lucien’s eyes on my back as we walk out the halls and I don’t know why I do it, but my spine arches lightly, his swaying in the dress he hand-picked for me. The mark on my neck tingles with awareness and I know he saw that.
A couple of guards walk ahead, courtesy of Lucien, I assume, leading the trail. Perhaps, it’s because I’ve never quite stepped outside at night since I arrived, but I hadn’t noticed how beautiful Ebonheart was at night. A sea of stars dot the sky, the moon hanging in its center lighting up the world with it’s pale hue. The sky itself is dark, void of clouds, and it hangs so low, it gives you an illusion that if you just reached for it, you could trace the constellation on your fingertips.
The entire walk outside, I feel Cyrus’s gaze burn into my left cheek and without looking at him, I say, "It’s not very polite to stare unabashedly at a woman. It makes her uncomfortable."
"Do I make you uncomfortable?"
I think about it for a second. There’s only one person who makes me feel uncomfortable and he’s probably celebrating how successful his scheming seems to be turning out. "Not really."
"Good," he says. "Because I do not plan on taking my eyes off you, yet. It’s like finding the sun in the deep of the night."
I quirk an eyebrow, tilting my head just so as I take him in. He looks to be in his mid-twenties. I could tell by just looking at him that he could talk a married woman out of her clothes. And maybe convince her into bringing her husband along, too. "Do those little lines usually work on your human women?"
He smiles and up close, I note the dimple in his left cheek. "I usually do not have to speak so much to coax even one smile out of them."
I take a left turn onto the cobbled path flanked by wild-blue roses, whose petals fly with the wind. "Happy to disappoint." The breeze carries a faint scent of salt water and I can tell we are close.
Forcing my heel to snag against the creeping ivy’s, I trip, nearly crashing into Cyrus. Ever the gentle man, he catches me with a hand around my waist, warm calloused hands grazing the bare skin of my elbow, and that is all I need.
We are suddenly no longer in the great gardens of the castle. Instead, I find myself in a throne room, a banner flipping through the air with the sigil of a shield. I turn around at the sound of a pained moan, and I immediately curse Lucien for having me do this in the first place.
Because seated on the Voss King’s throne is Cyrus, his head propped back against the head of the seat, his fingers gripping a redhead’s hair as her head bobs up and down his--
I turn away sharply. I’m not paid enough for this. Or commended enough for it either.
My feet trail along polished marbled floors, eyes running along maps in hopes to catch something of help. Anything. I try heading out the room but I cannot seem to get past the gigantic doors of the throne room, so I divert, taking in the pile of scrolls on the floors, while ignoring the brutal slap of skin against skin.
The scrolls are mostly useless, an inventory of food stocks, artillery--
My eyes pause over that and I pluck at the scroll, surprised that I am able to touch it this time. Reading it’s content, I note the numbers of weaponry dispatched to each region in Voss, the soldiers whose duties it is to deliver them. I repeat a couple of those names until they stick in my head.
And just I start to flip the page, a feminine voice fills the chamber with a throaty moan. "You think your father might push for the truce, after all?"
My head jerks back to the couple fucking in the corner. The woman straddles Cyrus now, whimpering as she bounces on and off him. "You know I can’t tell you that, love."
She must’ve made a face because he laughs softly, lowering his head to kiss her breasts. "But I may tell you something of value, depending on how loud you can scream for me, Lilith."
Huh? I take in both of them with new eyes. Noting again, the tumble of red hair...
I abandon the scrolls, feet moving swiftly, headed for the couple. Because I had to see. Had to make sure it was her. To be sure I was mistaken and there was another woman in Voss who bore the name Lilith and so happens to be a redhead, too.
But just as I round the corner, I am yanked back from the dream with such violence that I cry out.
Once more, I stand in the gardens, but I must have fallen because Cyrus’s arms are around me, my chest pressed flush against his, his fingers warm on my cheek. "Lyra," he says, and I wonder he had been calling out my name for a while. "Are you alright?"
I start to respond but I feel that vicious tug once more and it snaps my gaze to the path behind us. Across the gardens at the pillared exit we’d just come from, Lucien stands, hands folded behind his back.
His eyes are dark as he notes where Cyrus grips me, the proximity, the way out breathes mingle. Something scary flashes in his eyes and he all but crosses the distance within seconds.
Cyrus and I pull apart and my skin flushes as Lucien asks, "Am I interrupting something?"
"Not quite," the Prince answers. "I hadn’t realized you would be joining us on our walk."
Lucien doesn’t even look at Cyrus. "I just happened to recall. Lyra and I have unfinished business this eve."
"I’ll wait," Cyrus says.
Lucien’s eyes droop my cheek where the Prince had caressed and his nostrils flare. "It’ll take all night. Another time, maybe." He turns without warning and stalks off, throwing a single word over his shoulder when I keep staring at his back, wondering what the hell he’s doing. "Lyra."
It has an aggressive bite to it and I shoot Cyrus an apologetic look and curtesy, before following after Lucien.
When we are well out of earshot, I pinch his sleeve. "Why did you do that? I was in his head! I saw something--"
He whirls, teeth bared. "He had his hands all over you!"
I blink. "What? I fell, he helped me--"
"And to show of your gratitude, you press your chest to his and let him kiss you? And me? You’d hit me and kick me to the curb."
I have to pick my jaw off the floor. "We didn’t kiss..." My voice trails off as I recognize that look in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. And the edginess in his tone. "You assigned this task to me. You asked me to seduce another man and now you’re what? Jealous?"
His eyes flash, the sharp tips of his ears turning red. "I am unfamiliar with that term."