Shimmering golden sunlight filtered through stained glass windows that bore the same symbols carved into the Rock, spotlighting certain areas with brilliant multicolored lights. Hand-carved tables made from various types of wood displayed the most sublime treasures. Musical instruments I yearned to hear played. Vases overflowing with flowers I longed to sniff. Jewelry glittering with gemstones brighter than any I’d ever seen. Cushioned couches and chairs offered spots of relaxation under flourishing trees that grew from the floor.

  Flower-heavy branches extended in every direction. People moved about in harmony with a soft melody that seeped from speakers I’d never seen. Many called greetings to Domino. The scent of clean, worn leather, sweet peaches, and creamy coconut teased my nose. My second-favorite fragrance after Cyrus’s, and yes, okay, the librarian’s.

  “Where is the soil that nourishes the trees?” I’d always wondered.

  “Here, everything is a type of soil.” Domino started forward, and I quickened my steps to remain at his side. “It is born of Tsuri, and he is soil. In him, we are what he is.”

  A perfect explanation too vast to fully absorb in a mere moment.

  Anyone we neared moved out of his way and into mine, but I ghosted right through them. And it was weird. Though I felt only a flash of warmth, I inhaled sharply each time. “May we visit Ember? I’d like to thank her in person and ask about my mom and Mykal.”

  “Her quarters are restricted, but I’m currently receiving the information you seek.”

  My brows drew together. “Like a download . . . in your mind?”

  “Yes. And no. Revelation flows through our bond to Soal. One day, you’ll be able to do the same.” He paused, slanted his head in that way of his. “As a precaution, your mother has been assigned undercover Soalian guards who see to her protection. Mykal still roams the streets. She’s staying with a group of rebels who reject both CURED and Soal.”

  Hey, it was progress. “Anything new from Victors?”

  “Not at this time.” Domino led me into a small, private room with two chairs tucked into a single table, where a lamp in the shape of a swan in flight spotlighted an open tome.

  Tremors of reverence slipped over me. “Mine?” I asked, hopeful.

  “Mine,” he corrected, his tone deeper, almost guttural. He closed and lifted the precious book with a careful grip, then offered me a closer glimpse of the leather binding. After opening to a yellowed page, he asked, “What do you see?”

  I eagerly scrutinized . . . “The code.” I pursed my lips. “Am I able to decipher it?” Since we were bonded, I supposed it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

  “Arden.” Cyrus’s voice penetrated my awareness. I heard him, but it sounded as if he called to me from a long, echoing tunnel. A soft snapping wrecked my concentration.

  The library vanished. Cyrus was standing before me, and I sat upon the couch once again. He cupped my face, his thumbs grazing over my cheekbones. “Arden?”

  My body had stayed behind while my spirit ventured through the library with Domino. “I’m here,” I assured him.

  Our gazes met, and he searched mine, radiating concern. “What happened? You completely checked out.”

  Ugh. Best to tell him now, rather than drag out the big reveal. “I’m connected to him. Rooted. To Domino. He pulled my spirit into the library while my body stayed here.”

  Cyrus blinked twice. A hard, blank mask spread over his expression, reminding me of paint spilling over paper. “Not just linked but rooted,” he said with a hollow tone. He straightened, his spine like steel.

  I chewed on my bottom lip. “There was no other way to survive the battle,” I rushed to explain. “Maybe it was wrong. I would hate it if you bonded with Lolli, especially if you did it without talking it over with me first. There was no other way,” I repeated. “No time.”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth. “I did tell you to do whatever proved necessary to survive, and I meant it.”

  The note of misery in his tone nearly became my undoing. “I don’t deserve to hear your problem with Domino, but I’m asking you to tell me anyway. Help me understand what I’m up against.”

  A thousand emotions passed over his expression in an instant, but nothing stuck, the blank mask secured. “His parents worked for mine. We grew up together, were as close as brothers. Closer, really, since I have brothers, and we barely speak. After Domino joined Soal, he tried to recruit me. I turned him in. CURED took him to a rehabilitation facility, where doctors carved open his body and used him as a pritis factory until his escape. He produced a higher-wattage pritis than other glowers, so CURED wanted him back.” Guilt and shame crept into his expression and pitch. “They vowed to execute every member of his family unless he returned of his own volition. He didn’t return, and CURED kept its word.”

  My chest tightened. I cupped Cyrus’s shoulder, offering comfort. “I understand. You know my worst secret. How I turned in my own mother. Rest assured, I’m not judging you,” I promised gently.

  He ducked his head. “When I became Soalian, Domino ensured I comprehended the pain I had caused him in a multitude of ways.”

  That . . . hmm. “Revenge doesn’t sound like him.” Not what I knew of him, anyway.

  “People can surprise you.” He let his head fall back and stared up at the crystal ceiling, apprehension whipping from him in increasingly agitated waves. “Rooted,” he repeated.

  “We would’ve died without his aid,” I reminded him.

  “I realize that. But this complicates things. You can feel him, and he can feel you, I take it.”

  “Yes. Kind of.” I shifted in my seat. “It’s muted. An awareness that he’s close if I need him. The bond, um, can’t be undone.” At least, I didn’t think so.

  His posture grew stiffer. “Throuples and threesomes aren’t my thing.”

  “Nor are they mine.” Until Cyrus, I’d never really been part of a twosome. The thought of being so intimate and vulnerable with someone who could break and harm me had never appealed.

  He inhaled deeply, nodded, and handed me a plate he’d set on the coffee table. I eased back on the couch, and he sat beside me with a plate of his own. Side by side, we each ate a sandwich layered with moist, shredded chicken, a creamy pepper-and-fruit spread, and melty cheeses. All the real deal, I’d bet, and none of the lab-grown “meat” and “dairy” ordinary folks were fed when we decided to splurge on something other than a tasteless meal bar made from mystery ingredients.

  “How do you want to proceed?” I asked with the barest tremor.

  “Give me time to think.”

  We finished eating in silence. At any other time, I would’ve moaned over the sublime flavors exploding on my tongue. Tonight, every bite settled like a lead ball in my stomach.

  When we finished, we set our plates aside, still silent. I understood his upset, I truly did. Like I’d told him, I’d be super upset if he connected to someone else. The question was, did he want to be with me enough to get past it?

  Needing a connection with him, I curled myself against his chest, resting my head on his shoulder. He didn’t rebuke me but slowly wound an arm around my waist. Slow and distracted, he stroked his fingers along my side, pausing now and then to toy with the ends of my hair.

  “It’s a complication,” he repeated as if the conversation had never paused, assuring me he’d considered nothing but my new relationship with Domino.

  “Yes.” I offered no more, unwilling to pressure him.

  “I don’t . . .” He sighed.

  I gripped his shirt, crinkling the material between my fingers. Don’t throw me away when you need me most.

  “Throw you away?” he fumed.

  Oops. I’d spoken out loud.

  He tightened his hold. “Arden, that isn’t what I’m considering.”

  “Then what?”

  “How best to proceed with you. Splitting up isn’t an option.”

  Heat washed over me, and I melted, pouring myself over him. “That’s a good answer.”

  “We should take this day by day and learn how the bond between you and the librarian works,” he said, and I nodded, eager. “While we do, we will remain together.”

  “Yes, yes, forever yes.”

  “As for today, I think I’d like to be wooed,” he said, and ran two knuckles along the underside of my chin.

  A laugh burst from me, totally spontaneous and utterly unexpected, born from relief and affection. “Wooed? As in, courted?”

  “Exactly.” He flashed a sly smile. “Give me a compliment.”

  “You can’t just order someone to compliment you,” I replied, giggling.

  “I can and I did,” he insisted, pretending to pout. “I want what I want, and I want it now.”

  Snickering, I slid into his lap, straddling his thighs. “Do you hear yourself?” Tsk, tsk, tsk. “The great and powerful future king of Ourland just whined.” Most people were too afraid of his position and cold, distant demeanor to risk speaking to him. Me? I lightly traced the length of his facial brand with a blunt-tipped nail.

  “And yet you still deny him.” He gripped my backside and squeezed. Just like that, his amusement died, replaced by desperation. “Give me what I want, Pink.” He rasped the demand.

  I—went—molten. Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I wiggled closer and purred, “I won’t give you a compliment, sugar. I’ll give you many.”

  His gaze remained on my mouth. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m awed by your strength, and I greatly admire your protector’s heart. Your ability to walk into a room and assess everyone and thing wows me. And baby, you are gorgeous.”

  His eyes hooded, his heavy lids sinking low. “I also have a multitude of scars and tattoos. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your fetish.”

  “Well, in my defense, those scars and tattoos look incredible on you.”

  “You look incredible on me.” He tipped up his face to nip my bottom lip with his teeth. “You are brave and kind and sweet. So sweet. So very, very sweet. I love you, and I like you.”

  Aah! He’d said those three little words again. And he’d added three more, equally powerful. Heat painted my cheeks even as a smile bloomed. “I lo—like you too.” My heart skipped a beat. That had been too close for comfort. “I like you very much.”

  An answering smile lingered. “You almost said it.”

  The heat in my cheeks cranked up another thousand degrees. “True,” I admitted, leaning closer. We exchanged breaths, every inhalation igniting the most delicious aches and pangs. “I think I’m afraid of my feelings. With Astan determined to use you as his host . . .”

  Cyrus gave a clipped shake of his head. “I will never give in to him, I swear it.” He caressed my earlobe, and I nuzzled into his touch. “But I understand your hesitation.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Mad? I want to kiss you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But I won’t.” He growled the statement. “Domino doesn’t get to experience your pleasure. That is for me alone.”

  Inhale. Exhale. “I wish . . .” So many things.

  “We cannot go backward,” he said, exhaustion settling into his features. Looked like the day had caught up to him. “We start today. You may be bonded to him—at the moment—but you’re mine forever.”

  Breath—gone. “I won’t share your pleasure either,” I told him, standing. A separation I couldn’t bear. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.” I urged him to his feet and led him to the bedroom, where we stripped to our undergarments and climbed under the covers.

  He gathered me close and shut his eyes. “Stay with me,” he muttered. “All night.”

  “I will,” I vowed, conforming my body to his and luxuriating in his heat. I will stay with you always.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The same measure you use with others will be measured with you.

  —The Book of Soal 2.3.6.38

  Cyrus and I fell asleep tangled together. I used to wonder why so many couples risked everything simply to spend a few hours together. Now I got it. The warmth. The intimacy. Filling my lungs with Cyrus’s incredible scent. The companionship. The sense of safety and belonging. The aching.

  “No,” Cyrus muttered, yanking me from a light, dreamy doze. “No!”

  When his entire body jerked, I popped open my eyes. “Cyrus?” We were on our sides, with him behind me, curled around my body. I patted the hand resting on my stomach. “Everything okay?”

  “No!” He flopped to his back, allowing me to twist around. His head thrashed over a pillow, the brand on his face much paler than his skin, the puckered flesh pulled taut.

  A nightmare? “Hey, hey,” I cooed, gentle, so gentle, as I caressed his chest. “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  “Born . . . rule.” With a roar, he jerked upright and yanked on handfuls of his hair. “Can’t lose . . . won’t . . . mine!”

  Can’t lose . . . the crown? “Wake up, Cyrus.”

  In lieu of a response, he punched his temples, as if he attempted to dislodge his troublesome thoughts.

  “Stop it!” Please. I latched onto his wrists, taking control of his arms. “Sugar, I need you to wake up, okay?”

  He wrenched from my hold and sprang from the mattress to stalk forward. Overhead lights switched on automatically. To my dismay, he tried to walk through the door. When that failed, he punched. Wham, wham, wham.

  I leaped up and over, putting myself between my sleepwalking boyfriend and the entrance. There was no need to duck or dodge. Even in sleep, he was a protector, striking the door around me. “Cyrus!” I shouted as he drew back his elbow, intending to launch another strike. Blood dripped from torn knuckles. Desperate, I slapped him.

  He went still and shook his head. Blinking rapidly, he lowered his arm.

  Relief caught me up in a whirlwind. I petted his chest, cooing, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

  His eyes found mine and narrowed. “What happened?”

  “You had a bad dream and decided the bedroom door was enemy one.”

  The color drained from his cheeks, and he gripped my shoulders. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not even a little. Come on.” I urged him back to the bed and applied pressure to ease him into a sitting position at the edge. “I’ll be right back.” I darted off to gather the first aid kit.

  He said nothing as I cleaned and bandaged his abrasions. Though the medications must sting, he displayed no trace of unease.

  “Do you remember anything?” I asked after finishing my task.

  “I have a vague memory of fighting Felix and the other royals. Then you were ripped from my arms.”

  Can’t lose . . . My ribs constricted. He’d referenced me, not the crown. “Only a dream,” I rasped, moving to clean the mess I’d created.

  “Arden.” He grasped my wrist and tugged me onto his lap, sideways.

  Understanding, I wound my arms around his shoulders. “It’s okay, baby.”

  “Is it? There’s a residue of panic inside me.” Resting his cheek against my shoulder, he released a shuddering breath. “I don’t do panic.”

  “I know,” I said, stroking his silken hair, certain Astan was at work here. The god spearheaded CURED, and this gonna-lose-her fear struck me as a play straight from their handbook. Get him all riled up, then offer him as the lone solution. “Tell me about your brother.” Felix not only had a starring role in Cyrus’s dream, but the brothers had been in Theirland together during Cyrus’s episodes of memory loss. Maybe speaking of him would jar something loose. “You love him, but you don’t like him. Why?”

  Cyrus heaved a sigh. “He’s older by a year. Our mothers hated each other, but our father insisted on spending time with us together. We became friends. Played ball, laughed a lot, and cheered the other as he rose in rank. Then a rogue glower killed his wife, and suddenly everything changed. He changed. He puts on a good show in public, but in private it’s clear he lives only for revenge.”

  My brow furrowed. “Rogue glower isn’t a term I’d heard.”

  “A Soalian who no longer follows Soal.”

  Hmm. I hadn’t realized such people existed, though I guess I should have.

  Domino materialized a few feet away, snatching my attention. He wore his standard uniform, hood drawn down, and exuded determination and resolve. “Big things are underway. Mr. Vyle is on his way here. He’ll ask you about your experience on the battlefield, among other things. You have eleven minutes.”

  He didn’t wait for my response but disappeared, leaving me with frothing curiosity.

  Big things? What big things?

  “What’s wrong?” Cyrus demanded, sensing my upset.

  “We have eleven minutes until Mr. Vyle arrives.”

  He traced his tongue over straight, white teeth. “Domino told you this?”

  “Yes.” I pressed a swift kiss to the hollow of his throat before bounding to my feet and urging him to his. Having never spent the night with a man, I fumbled for the proper protocols. When in doubt, go with polite. “Thank you for holding me. I had a wonderful time.”

  He allowed the subject change, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Thank you for allowing me to hold you. I had a wonderful time as well.” Turning toward the bathroom, he casually stated, “I love you.”

  “I lo—like you.”

  Beyond the door, he called, “You love me.”

  “Maybe.” An idea hit, and I swiped up the first aid kit before stalking to the other suite’s bathroom, the one I’d used in the past. I rushed through a shower, brushed my teeth, and braided my hair.

  While naked in the stall, I opened the kit and withdrew the scissors. Though I trembled, I did it. I executed my idea, dragging the blade tips across my side, where I’d been shot. The sharp sting sucked, but I persevered, bandaged the wound, and dressed in clean fatigues.

  When I emerged from the bedroom, I found a freshly showered, changed Cyrus waiting for me in the kitchen. He offered me a super-delicious fruit smoothie.