Because of course I did. “With whom?” I asked, voice raw. I wrapped my arms around my middle.

  Silent, he marched in the opposite direction. Though unsteady, I followed with a single goal in mind. Maintain my bearings a little while longer. A feat I wasn’t sure I could manage.

  He escorted me to a frowning Mr. Vyle, who waited in front of a closed door. “Today’s performance leaves much to be desired, Lady Roosa.”

  “I’ll accept a failing grade with pride, Mr. Vyle,” I replied, my tone flat.

  He made no further comment as we traversed the hallway. To my surprise, he removed his jacket and settled the material over my shoulders. His warmth and scent replaced the metallic-tinged cold, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t remove the jacket either. I’d done enough fighting for the day.

  Miller and five others were dead. Winslet might die too. I’d glimpsed some of the torment and torture Mykal and Victors had endured in captivity. The reminder knotted every muscle I possessed.

  “Did the group pass your test?” I demanded. “Did we kill the right soldiers?”

  “That is to be determined.”

  Whatever. I would learn the truth through Cyrus or Domino. “Tell me why, at least.” An all-encompassing demand meant to cover everything I’d just witnessed and endured.

  He didn’t pretend not to understand. “There are many reasons. Let’s start with the footage of your friend and the former leader of the Tome Society. It was important that you see them. There are indications you’ll be with Cyrus long term. Therefore, you must comprehend what occurs to those who betray us.”

  Us. Meaning CURED. “Last I’d heard, Mykal and the Soalian escaped.” Wasn’t like no one suspected Cyrus shared behind-the-scenes details with me. “You showed me old feed.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less haunting.” A chiding note colored his voice. “She’s infected with Madness. Recapturing her would be a mercy for everyone who loves her.”

  When a meta turned a corner, heading our way, it moved from the path, deferring to Mr. Vyle. A shock I would have explored further any other day. Here, now, I had only the strength to think, Later.

  We rounded corners and climbed a flight of stairs, and I picked up our conversation where we’d left off. “Cyrus is the one who captured John Victors. In fact, he’s the only royal to ever do so. Crown him king and let him do it again.” He could dismantle CURED before Astan’s horns ever sounded. No “human hosts a god” necessary.

  The executioner performed a double take, as if staggered by my words. “Your loyalty to Cyrus is unmistakable, and commendable, but he doesn’t need to be king to succeed in such an endeavor.”

  I wondered . . . Did Mr. Vyle wish to be king himself? I hadn’t forgotten what I’d seen when I’d spirit-walked with Domino. Vyle, prostrate, begging Astan for power.

  “You asked about my reasons for pitting trainees against each other,” he said. “If you are chosen for this . . . special assignment, you’ll be expected to do objectionable things without argument. At times, you’ll need to invade Soalian strongholds, and when you do, you’ll discover that people you trusted are your enemies. What will you do then?” Asked with a leading edge.

  “I’ll always do what I believe is right,” I vowed.

  He misunderstood and nodded, as if pleased. “Best to remember a moment of misery is a small price to pay for a lifetime of privilege.”

  “And what misery do you suffer, Mr. Vyle?” The question left me before I could run it through a filter.

  He stopped, forcing me to do the same. Peering at me, almost agonized, he admitted, “The kind you cannot even comprehend, Lady Roosa. I’m not ashamed to admit you are a mystery to me. I know Soal courted—or courts—you, but as I said, your loyalty to Cyrus is unmistakable. And his to you. I have witnessed your resourcefulness firsthand. You are a novice, yet you are skilled enough to shed a trained tail, help a high prince defeat an army of feeders, and beguile multiple men at once. In the beginning, I underestimated you. But no longer. I’m confident you can be a major asset to us. Or a terrible enemy. If that’s the case, I will wreck you without hesitation, Lady Roosa. Be assured of that.”

  He moved on, leaving me floored, and I had to hurry to catch up, his threat clanging between my ears.

  We turned another corner, and a familiar tug ignited as if . . . no, no, surely not. But what if?

  The tug flourished, as if the Rock loomed nearby. I fought to control my reactions, not wanting to give anything away. Confusion set in. I’d been assured a doorway to Soal’s library hadn’t yet grown here.

  The tugging faded when we snaked around the next corner, but I glanced over my shoulder, mentally photographing the hallway. Multiple entrances, all closed and flanked by armed guards.

  We reached another guarded door, this one made of solid gold. Mr. Vyle motioned to the watchmen on duty. They pressed a series of buttons on a wall pad, and the metal opened automatically, unveiling a chamber with high ceilings, massive marble columns, and white floors veined in scarlet.

  “Astan will help you, if you’ll let him. His methods might be unexpected, but his results are unparalleled.” Having said his piece, Vyle strode off.

  Unexpected? Unparalleled? Try disastrous.

  With no idea what awaited me, I stepped into the space alone. A temple. Silence reigned, not a single sound penetrating the air. Cyrus and the other royals perched upon silver thrones, arranged along the side walls, each chair flanked by towering statues. Those sculptures represented a different god, their forms a medley of ancient power. Among them were Briar Rose and Bala, the pet dragon-thing, as enigmatic as ever.

  My gaze lingered on the exquisite Briar Rose, drawn to her by a magnetic force. She wore a gown studded with gemstones and flowers. Unlike the others, she projected otherworldly grace and dignity. I might have stared at her for hours, if shadows hadn’t caught my notice. They nestled against the deities as well as royals. Recalling what those shadows had done to me and my fellow trainees, I reared back, repulsed.

  Every royal’s eyes were closed, including the emperor’s. He sat atop the only gold throne. It occupied the space in the center of the back wall, at the feet of Astan’s likeness. There were no noticeable cracks in the statue. But his horns . . . I pressed my hands to my protesting stomach. They’d risen another notch.

  A pregnant woman in a white gown stood at his side, with ten guards stretched out behind her. Even their eyes were closed. The woman’s only piece of jewelry was a thick silver chain with a fancy wrought-iron key hanging between her ample cleavage.

  A key. My breath caught. The key?

  Only the wealth of shadows kept their eyes open. Those that cloaked the emperor, especially. They coiled around him as if they were pieces of jewelry.

  Altogether, it was the creepiest thing I’d ever witnessed. Were the royals entranced? Meditating? Pondering the answer to a riddle? What?

  I stood immobile, unsure what to do but knowing I needed my boyfriend as the horrors of the day came crashing into my awareness. “Cyrus?” I rasped.

  The shadows fell away from him, as if shoved by an invisible force. Suddenly his lids popped open, and his attention swung to me. He frowned, appearing perplexed, and unfolded to his feet, every movement labored as if he was wading through an ocean of water. The struggle lessened the farther he got from the throne until finally he strode with ease. Concern replaced his bewilderment.

  He cupped my cheeks in his warm, calloused hands and looked me over. “What’s wrong?”

  I bucked up, jutting my chin and pretending I wasn’t ripped apart at the seams by everything that had happened. “I’ll be okay.” I whispered the assurance, yet my voice echoed from the walls. But would he? “Get me out of here.”

  “Come.” Cyrus snaked an arm around my waist and ushered me from the room. He walked so swiftly, I almost couldn’t keep up.

  I cast a glance over my shoulder, to the pregnant woman and her key.

  Cyrus and I didn’t speak again until we were sealed inside our private bathroom.

  “What was that place?” I demanded. “Why were you frozen like that?”

  “I don’t know.” His guttural timbre boiled with frustration, anger, and even a hint of fear. “Let’s get the blood off you.”

  The blood of my teammates. Whatever remained of my shock dissolved, ensuring I experienced in unison reactions I’d previously staved off. Tremors started in the center of my torso and worked their way to the tips of my fingers and toes. New tears welled. A cry lodged in my throat.

  “I think we should focus on what happened to you in that temple,” I croaked.

  “We will. Just not now.” Cyrus turned on the water. Soon, hot steam thickened the air.

  My tears spilled over as he removed my bloodstained clothes and boots. I let him do it, even raising my arms to help. He shed his own as I brushed my teeth, then entered the waterfall first and drew me in behind him.

  “Roman killed Miller, who was Soalian,” I said, my tone going flat again. Head bowed, I stared at the black-and-white tiled floor inside the stall. The liquid spray rained over me. “Winslet might be dying. She was shot twice. Five others are already dead. We were pitted against each other in a free-for-all.”

  He pressed the tenderest of kisses into my brow. “It’s awful. It hurts. I can’t make it better. But I can clean you up and hold you, and I want to—I need to do that. Let me?”

  “Please.” The cry escaped me, and there was no stopping the heaves that shook my entire body.

  Cyrus held me through it all, cooing and petting me, and when I at last quieted, he soaped me up from head to toe. His touch wasn’t sexual but reverent and comforting. Loving and tender.

  We’d been naked together before, but we’d been in front of others then. Here, now, we were alone, and I was fragile, as naked on the inside as I was on the outside. Never had I felt so exposed and vulnerable. The dueling sensations left me uncomfortable with my comfortability.

  “Tell me a happy story about young Cyrus,” I begged, desperate to hear something sweet.

  He hesitated only a moment. “One of my earliest memories is of my father taking my mother, me, and Felix on a picnic. The king wasn’t some big, strong commander of the world’s most powerful army to us but a man who played catch and made us laugh. I still smile when I think of that day.”

  As he washed and conditioned my hair, I imagined him that way. Young and carefree, releasing peals of laughter, and I almost smiled myself.

  Every so often, he paused to collect my tears with the pads of his thumbs and kiss the burning tracks left behind. “You will grow through this, I swear it.”

  “Grow,” not “get.” The distinction caught my attention, jarring me from my free fall into sorrow and grief. “I wish I’d known you as a little boy.”

  “I’d rather you know me as an old man.” He shut off the water, toweled me off, and offered me clean clothes. “Tell me a happy story about young Arden.”

  The answer already waited at the edge of my tongue. “My most favorite memories are working on my indoor minigarden while my sister danced around me and my parents snuggled together on the couch, cheering us on.” Days long past, never to be repeated.

  Sadder now, I donned the T-shirt and panties while Cyrus pulled on a pair of boxer briefs. He twined our fingers and urged me into the bedroom. I didn’t protest as he readied the covers and helped me slip underneath.

  “Let’s do some snuggling of our own.” He gathered me close, and mmm, his warmth. His strength. I soaked them up, not sure how I’d ever lived without them.

  As he stroked my hair, then my back, I relaxed against him bit by bit. Eventually, my muscles softened until I was molded against him, with my head resting on his shoulder and my upper half draped over his.

  Though fatigued to the bone, I failed to drift to sleep. “On my walk to the temple, I thought I sensed the Rock.” The raspy confession placed my exhaustion on vivid display.

  “No, you sensed a rift between worlds that leads to the Rock.”

  A tidbit we could use to our advantage. “Tell me what you remember about the throne room.”

  He paused for a moment. Rubbed the center of his chest. “The emperor told us to sit. Obeying is the last thing I remember doing until I opened my eyes and spotted you splattered in blood, wearing Vyle’s jacket.”

  Another blackout. Not good. “Who was the pregnant woman with your grandfather?”

  Cyrus worked his jaw. “Giselle. His mistress. He keeps her in a separate wing, near his suite, on the other side of this compound. It’s guarded more than any other. She and the child are his pride and joy.”

  “She has a key.” Perhaps the key we needed, perhaps not. But there was only one way to find out. “I want it.”

  “You’ll have an opportunity to take it. We’re having dinner with Giselle and my grandfather this evening.” A small smile of satisfaction flashed. “You asked for a meeting, and I’m delivering.”

  “Thank you, Cyrus.” Truly. “I lo . . . love . . .” I opened my mouth to finish the declaration. Shut it. Shifted against him, agitated. I tried to say the words. Wanted to. I also wanted to kiss him. To show him. But my book. Domino.

  The librarian’s name whispered through every part of me, guilt and denial vying for supremacy. He was a friend, only a friend.

  A friend who had helped me today in ways I didn’t yet understand.

  “It’s okay,” Cyrus said, cutting into my thoughts. “I’m a patient man, and soon enough you’ll be mine. Only mine.”

  Never mind the “patient” comment. His voice. It had changed ever so slightly, frosted with the briefest hint of malice. It was so unlike him, I froze for a moment. When my mind reactivated, I asked, “You found a way to sever my link to Domino?”

  “Yes,” he replied, back to his normal self. “No.” A growl resounded from him. “Maybe. Instructions were right there, at the edge of my mind, but now they’re gone.”

  A shudder rocked me against him. I thought, maybe, Astan might be responsible for those instructions, but I saw no shadows on Cyrus. Didn’t mean they weren’t in him. And did I even want to sever my bond with the librarian?

  I wasn’t sure.

  We slipped into silence and lay curled together for an eternity and a single heartbeat, wrapped into one.

  He sighed. “We should prepare for dinner.” As he set up, he dragged me with him. “Everything you require is in the closet.”

  A groan of regret seeped from me. As much as I wished to face the emperor and steal his companion’s key, I didn’t want to leave this bed. But this was war, not business as usual. Time to buck up.

  I kissed his cheek and climbed from the bed. In a closet as big as my childhood bedroom, I found more than I needed, including a vanity with different creams, cosmetics, and hairstyling tools. I marveled at the luxurious fabric as I dressed. Tried not to sob, whimper, or go numb as I applied different products to my face and body, hiding a multitude of cuts and bruises. Cobbled together a risky plan as I pinned sections of my hair.

  The emotional highs and lows created a daunting challenge, but I persevered.

  I examined myself in a full-length mirror. The satiny gown clung to my curves with a scooped neckline, off-the-shoulder straps, and a cinched waist minus a diamond-shaped swatch of material on each side. A scarlet bodice tapered into a jet-black skirt, with a long slit stretching from the top of my thigh to the floor, where the gown’s hem pooled. Black stilettos studded with rubies turned my feet into a work of art. Not bad. Not bad at all.

  “You stun me.”

  Cyrus leaned one shoulder against the closet doorway. He’d tamed his hair, but not his eyes. They glittered like gemstones, a paradox of raging heat and glistening frost. He hadn’t shaved, the dark stubble on his strong jaw thicker than usual.

  Desire coiled within me as he made his way over, each step slow, deliberate, and impossibly magnetic. Grimed up, he was hot. In a perfectly tailored black tux, he unraveled every thread of reason I had left.

  “And you . . .” I glided my palms up the lapels of his soft suit jacket. “You defy description.”

  “Give it a try,” he said, clasping my hips, more relaxed than he’d been since we entered enemy territory. He was an ember of desire and a whisper of devotion. “Tell me how handsome I am.”

  He’d seized the moment, and I would too. But where to start? “Handsome isn’t a strong enough word. You are beyond gorgeous. Sexy but dangerous. Powerful and awe inspiring.” I gently nipped his bottom lip. “Delicious.”

  His eyelids hooded. “And I’m yours?”

  “All mine. Only mine.”

  “Well, then.” He kissed me with raw, unfiltered carnality wrapped in tenderness. “That’s a very good description.”

  “And yet it’s not good enough.” I toyed with the ends of his hair, holding his gaze, growing serious. “Don’t listen to Astan. You won’t lose me. As long as you’re you, I’m yours.”

  “Don’t worry, kitten. I want nothing to do with him.” He gave me another of those sweet kisses.

  “I knew this day would come, and I planned accordingly.” Cyrus withdrew a velvet box from his pocket and cracked open the lid. A sparkling ruby choker graced the interior.

  Delighted, I ghosted my fingertips over the gems. “This beauty doubles as a weapon, I’m assuming.”

  “It does. Hair up.”

  Lifting my curls, I held my breath as he stalked behind me and fastened the jewels around my throat, just above the clear beads. His fingers brushed my skin, a prickle of heat against the chill of metal, rousing a storm of goose bumps in their wake.

  “This particular weapon slays my good sense.” Cyrus advanced, prowling around me, his eyes trailing over my curves. “But that is the extent of its power.”

  “Then it’s my favorite,” I said with a grin.

  A loud knock came from beyond our hideaway, shattering the moment.

  He heaved a sigh. “Our escort is here. I hope you’re ready for what’s to come.”

  Deep breath in, out. Was I prepared to meet the leader of our world, who could have me killed with a snap of his fingers? “Yes. Let’s do this.”