19

Greyson led Cyrus across the snow-crusted ground, their boots crunching loudly, toward the ocean. He heard the soft roar of the waves and smelled the briny scent, but he couldn't see it yet. Nonetheless, a grin was plastered on Cyrus' face as he strode beside Greyson, a hop in his step. It was hard to keep the smile off his own face at Cyrus' eager expression, but he managed it, though he couldn't stop looking at him.

A little bit after noon, they broke through the treeline and onto the rocky shore. A cold wind whipped over the ocean, making his hair flare and his nose run.

Cyrus rushed forward, looking over his shoulder with a glowing expression. Greyson's pulse quickened as his stomach clenched. He followed at a more sedate pace as Cyrus raced toward the water, yelling in obvious joy.

The ocean was a stormy gray while ice covered its surface, which the tide pushed onto the rocks. Cyrus stopped right on the edge of the ocean, arms extended. Greyson grabbed Cyrus and yanked him back before the freezing water crashed into him.

"Careful. Make sure you don't get wet. I don't want you to lose a toe," Greyson snapped.

Cyrus snaked his arms around Greyson's waist. "I'll be careful."

He frowned while his pulse thundered in his ears. Cyrus yanked Greyson flush against him, hands locking in the small of his back. Greyson swallowed. Everything inside of him wanted to kiss Cyrus. He started to lean forward, and Cyrus opened his mouth. Shaking his head, he jerked out of Cyrus' embrace.

"I don't get you."

"I know." Greyson faced the ocean. "Come on."

Together, they walked along the coastline toward the village. As the day deepened and the wind never ceased, it grew colder and colder. From behind him, he heard Cyrus' teeth chattering. Worry coiled in his stomach. Greyson peered over his shoulder and saw Cyrus' lips were tinged blue while his skin had become shockingly pale. Cyrus' shoulders were hunched clear up to his ears as he shook.

Stopping, Greyson tugged Cyrus' cloak tighter around him. "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm f-f-fine," Cyrus said through his chattering teeth.

Greyson frowned, touching his cheek; Cyrus' skin felt cold beneath his palm. "We're getting close."

Cyrus nodded again, not bothering to speak.

The wind swelled, growing stronger, and made Cyrus' trembling worsen. Greyson hoped Charles Davies would let them stay the night, as he didn't know anyone else very well and Cyrus wouldn't survive a night in the open.

They continued along the beach for a couple of hours until, finally, a village came into sight. A couple dozen buildings rested on stilts above the crashing waves. The homes were long with prominent main ridges and large chimneys, and the entire village was connected by decks and bridges. When a breeze rushed over them, it brought the brine of the sea mixed with the smoke from the many chimneys.

When they reached the platforms, he walked up the creaky, wooden steps. Cyrus did not follow him and eyed the deck.

"It's safe. I promise."

When Cyrus continued to hesitate, Greyson stretched out his hand. Cyrus slipped his fingers into Greyon's waiting grasp, holding it tightly, and joined him. Greyson smirked. "I've never seen you afraid of anything before."

Cyrus didn't reply, probably because his teeth chattered too much to get a word out. Greyson towed Cyrus along the platform, winding through the houses. He didn't see anyone, which didn't surprise him because people made their living fishing. Most of the villagers would be on the ocean until evening.

Finally, he came to a two-story house on the edge of the platform. Greyson hid Cyrus behind him, shielding him, then knocked on the door carved with twisting sea serpents. The door cracked open and revealed a woman in her early twenties with long black hair, light green eyes, and pale grayish skin.

"Greyson," she said, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Julia. Is your father home?"

"No," she said. "He's out on the water. Why?"

"Can we come in?"

"We?" she asked, brow furrowing.

He shifted, allowing her to see Cyrus.

Her mouth fell open as her eyes widened. "Goddess above."

Cyrus waved.

"Greyson, why is he here? Are we in trouble?" she asked, hand on her throat.

"No. I mean, I don't know." Greyson scrubbed a hand through his hair. "It's a long story. Can we come in?"

She pursed her lips, gripping the door, then she pushed it open and waved them inside.

Greyson directed Cyrus to the fireplace and forced him to sit on the thick, woven rug. Removing the bags from Cyrus' and his shoulders, he yanked the fur blanket out and draped it over Cyrus' shoulders.

"Are your feet wet?" Greyson asked, concern shooting through him as he held Cyrus' frozen fingers. It seemed the gloves were not enough to ward off the icy temperatures.

Cyrus shook his head, teeth chattering loudly.

"Here," Julia said, giving Cyrus a cup. "I just made some tea."

"Thank you," Cyrus said, accepting the cup and holding it between his hands.

"You're welcome," she said with a warm smile.

"Thank you," Greyson told her with a nod.

"Of course." Julia left the living room, giving them space.

Greyson tucked the blanket tighter around Cyrus, then draped another blanket across his legs. "I'm going to go talk to Julia, alright?"

"I'll be here."

He went into the kitchen. It had been five years since he'd been there. It hadn't changed much. The long table with matching chairs. The generous kitchen with stone countertops and dark cabinets. A large window with shutters that looked out over the ocean. A door that led to a private deck. Paintings of sunflowers and irises hung on the wall along with copper pots and pans. Julia's mother, Gertrude, had painted the pictures before her death almost ten years ago.

Julia looked up from the bread she kneaded. "So Prince Cyrus?"

An unbidden laugh broke out of his lips as he sank onto a chair. "I've had this conversation multiple times in the last few weeks."

"I believe it. You have Cyrus, your sworn enemy, with you, and clearly, something is going on between the two of you."

The story of finding Cyrus and the subsequent lies and kisses slipped out of his lips before he could stop it. Though as the words poured from his mouth, it felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. It was freeing to be honest.

She nodded as she shaped the loaves. "I'm guessing you"re having second thoughts about the lies."

"Yes, but that's not why we're here. I'm here about a necromancer who might have wiped his memories."

"I don't know of anyone, but in the past, people tended to keep that talent to themselves so I wouldn't expect to know of one now," Julia said. "Besides, as you and your mother taught me, they can't restore his memory. Some of the time it comes back on its own."

"I am aware," he said. Finding the mage who erased Cyrus' memories wouldn't change anything, but Greyson had to do something instead of waiting for Frederick's letter. Besides, they might have a clue as to why Cyrus traveled this far north.

"You know it doesn't have to be a necromancer, right? Anyone here could have done it," Julia said, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, but he woke up in the glade. Why else would someone be there?"

Julia shrugged as she covered the floured loaves with a gingham towel. Greyson frowned as he stared out the window at the white-capped waves, thoughts circling. Who had stolen Cyrus' memories? It probably didn't matter, but what else could he do?

"So," Julia started, "back to the interesting part, you like Cyrus."

"What? Now that you're married, you want to match everyone up?"

"Something like that. Though, as I recall," she started, eyes twinkling, "you mentioned several kisses."

Heat rushed to his cheeks, but Greyson refused to respond.

"Besides," she continued, "Victoria and I worked out. We even adopted two kids."

Glancing over his shoulder at the closed door, he said, "You and Victoria didn't hate each other, nor did you plan to kill her, or lie to her."

"All true, but we didn't like each other at first, and my father hated her," she said.

"Your father hates everyone who courted you or who he thought wanted to court you."

"Very true. Now, he likes her. Of course, we did give him grandchildren."

"Always helpful."

Julia wiped her hands on her apron. "I missed you. Five years is much too long."

"I missed you too. You were always my favorite student."

"You're not supposed to say that," she joked, coming to sit across from him.

Greyson smiled for a moment, then his expression dimmed. "Do you think your father will let Cyrus and I stay?"

"Probably. He's been in a good mood."

His shoulders sagged. "That's good. Cyrus doesn't handle the cold well."

Julia said, "You should give the two of you a chance."

He rolled his eyes and got to his feet. Julia hooked an arm around his waist, then they walked back into the front room.

Cyrus studied the room as he waited for Greyson. It was sizable with two large windows near the door. There was an elegant staircase with a banister carved in the shape of a sea serpent. A massive stone fireplace with a wide mantle took up most of one wall. Several chairs sat near the fireplace along with a couch. Red pillows embroidered with gold thread were haphazardly scattered over the furniture while a maroon wool blanket draped over the back of the couch. A few paintings of mountains, a lake, and forests hung on the walls.

The door opened, and Greyson and the woman entered. Her arm was slung about his waist while he had an arm draped over her shoulders. Cyrus swallowed, jealousy, hot and caustic, coiling in his stomach. He supposed she was attractive enough and maybe twenty or so years old. The two of them looked well together with the same lithe grace and height, but Cyrus did not like it.

"Cyrus," Greyson said, "this is Julia."

"Hello," he said stiffly.

The woman raised an eyebrow, but before she said anything a high-pitched voice squealed, "Mama."

A child of two or three bounded into the room and threw her thin arms around Julia's legs. "Ruth. Did you come back with Papa?"

"Yep," the child replied, bouncing and sending her two black braids over her shoulders.

Greyson moved to his side as a man walked in. He had hard features, green eyes, short black hair, and a broad, muscular form. When he spotted Cyrus, a deep frown marred his face. Greyson moved in front of Cyrus and blocked his view.

"Charles," Greyson said, hands fisting at his sides.

"Why is he here, Greyson?" Charles sounded almost tired to Cyrus' ears.

"I can explain," Greyson said, slowly. "We would like to spend the night if you'll let us."

"Why are you here?" Charles repeated, looking directly at Cyrus.

Cyrus came to Greyson's side. "My memories were erased by a mage. A necromancer, Greyson thinks."

Charles' brow furrowed as he stepped closer. Greyson yanked Cyrus behind him, hiding him. Charles leaned to the side, staring at him, and asked, "You don't remember anything?"

"No," Cyrus replied.

"I don't know any necromancers, but I can ask around."

"You'll let us stay?" Greyson asked, surprise obvious in his tone.

"Of course," Charles said as he picked up his granddaughter.

Cyrus moved to Greyson's side with a smile. The little girl caught sight of him and shyly tucked her head into her grandfather's shoulder.

"She gets nervous around new people," Julia commented.

"I can sympathize," Greyson said.

The door opened and another woman with a long brown braid and a round face came inside, trailed by a boy of seven or so. She froze in the doorway, drawing the boy against her side. Cyrus took a deep breath in preparation for whatever she would say.

"What's going on? Is that who I think it is?"

Julia nodded.

"Does everyone know me?" he asked Greyson.

"Yes."

"Victoria, dear, why don't you and I take the kids to the kitchen for a bite?" Julia said, plucking the little girl from Charles before herding her family out of the room.

Charles said, "It's a bit shocking to have you here. I'm going to check on them."

When the door closed, leaving them alone, Cyrus swiveled toward Greyson, who avoided his gaze. "So everyone does know me."

"I said yes."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me the truth?"

"The truth is you"re very famous," Greyson replied, walking after them.

When the door closed, Cyrus scoffed. "Right."