22

Greyson gaped at him. He what? How did Cyrus know? No one had said anything to him. When Cyrus did not say anything, he snapped, "What?"

"You're the one that lied to me and you're upset?"

"No. I mean—yes." He ran a hand through his hair. "What do you mean you know?"

"I may not remember anything, but I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were stupid."

"Greyson," Cyrus said, "I know you lied. I don't know exactly what you lied about, but I figured some things out. Like I'm pretty sure we were never friends."

His eyes flicked to the side as guilt washed through him.

"Yeah, that's what I figured. I mean you know very little about me, and anytime I ask, you look away. Just like now."

"What else have you figured out?"

"No one seems to like me, besides you, so I'm going to guess I didn't fight for the Griseo Mountains in the war, did I?"

"No," Greyson replied.

Cyrus scooted closer, their knees bumping. "Tell me now. Tell me everything."

Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm the panic that buzzed under his skin. Greyson met his gaze and began, "You and I are not friends. We're enemies. You hate me."

"What?" Cyrus asked, brow furrowing. "That's not possible."

"It's the truth. I also hated you."

Expression dropping, Cyrus jerked back.

Greyson did not let him go. He hauled Cyrus onto his lap. "I don't anymore. I swear."

Nodding, Cyrus stayed within his grasp. "Continue."

"It started eight years ago. That was the first time the Griseo Mountains sent a spokesperson to the capital to appeal to the emperor. I traveled with the group, mainly the spokesperson, Charlotte Williams. My parents were gone, and I'd taken my mother's position as a teacher of the magical arts, even though I hadn"t bonded to an artifact. During that first meeting is where I met you. You were by the emperor's side."

"Why?"

"You're Emperor Caspian's nephew. He raised you."

Cyrus gaped at him, stock-still. Greyson simply waited for him to shift off his lap, but Cyrus didn't. Cyrus stared at him for quite some time before pressing his face against Greyson's shoulder and saying, "Continue."

"I hated you from the second I saw you. You stood behind the emperor's shoulder, not speaking a single word." Greyson could easily recall Cyrus' stony expression. Cyrus had stared at him throughout the meeting with his sky-blue eyes. Shaking it off, Greyson continued, "I got my artifact during that meeting. It belonged to the emperor, but my staff decided it wanted me. After that, anytime I was in the capital you would follow me everywhere.

"About four years later, the war started. You became the golden boy of the capital. The face of the emperor's forces. I became the face of the rebellion. We met each other in combat a few times."

Shifting back, Cyrus slowly traced the scar that ran through Greyson's eyebrow and down to his cheekbone, blinding him in one eye. "I didn't do this, did I?" Cyrus asked, eyes glassy.

He wished he could lie. It would be simple, but Cyrus wanted the truth. "You did," Greyson said. "You gave me the scar." When Cyrus started to move off his lap, Greyson locked his hands behind Cyrus' back, keeping him in place. "You could've killed me, Cyrus, but you didn't."

Unbidden, memories of that first battle surfaced. Greyson had been in the middle of the rebels—protected. He was their strongest mage. But Cyrus and his men had pushed through to find and no doubt kill him. When they met, Greyson started to retreat. He did better at a distance than in close combat. At the same moment he stepped back, Cyrus swung at him, the tip of his blade slicing through his eye.

Even now, years later, Greyson recalled screaming as blood dripped down his face. He'd been completely open for another attack, but Cyrus did nothing. The battle sounds had faded as Cyrus stood in front of him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. The masses of fighting men and women separated them, and Greyson retreated for treatment. Magic had saved his eye but couldn't restore his vision.

Brushing Cyrus' cheek, Greyson repeated, "You didn't take your opportunity."

Cyrus leaned against him. "What happened next?"

"About four months of you and your soldiers chasing us through the mountains and small skirmishes before we surrendered unconditionally to the emperor."

"How long ago was that?"

"About two almost three years ago," Greyson answered.

"We didn't see each other after that?"

"No, we did. After we surrendered, the emperor demanded my head as recompense. I was the face of the rebellion by choice, and I knew if we lost that would be my fate."

Suddenly, Cyrus grabbed his hand, face scrunching. "What happened?"

"The emperor executed me. What do you think?"

Glaring, Cyrus asked, "Did you give yourself up?"

"Yes, I surrendered. I left my staff in the mountains because Emperor Caspian would've broken it in two regardless of its age. I was arrested and taken back to the capital for execution."

"Why did you give yourself up?"

"Because I didn't want the emperor to send soldiers to hunt for me and for him to hurt anyone."

"What happened?"

"I was kept in a cell and awaited public execution for about five months. But you saved me."

"I did?"

"Yes. You showed up in my cell, and I thought you were there to kill me, but you told me you were going to take me home. And you did. We traveled back to the Griseo Mountains together. When we reached the base of the mountains, you told me I'd been exiled and I couldn't leave and there was a bounty on my head if I did, which was fine with me. You also negotiated with the emperor, so we would receive more payment for the venetus we mined and reduced the quotas.

"I hated you for saving me," he admitted.

"Why?"

He laughed humorlessly. "It was a strike against my pride. You so easily fixed my people"s problems and saved me with no apparent effort, and I never understood why. It irked me to have to be saved by you."

"We saved each other," Cyrus said, wrapping his legs around Greyson's waist.

It was true, he supposed. Though Cyrus saved Greyson in ways that he could never say. Greyson wasn't alone anymore.

Nuzzling his forehead, Greyson said, "We did." Cyrus' lips brushed his, and Greyson shook his head. "I'm not done."

"What else is there?"

Unease coiled in his gut as his throat closed. Greyson didn't want to tell him this, but Cyrus deserved the truth. "When I found you in the woods, I left you to die in the rain. Then I grew weak and brought you back. But then, I planned to kill you."

"What?"

"I was going to poison you, Cyrus. I mean, I gave up the plan almost immediately, but regardless, I was going to kill you."

"What stopped you?"

The uncomfortable feeling he had when he studied the berries rushed back to him. Greyson pressed his forehead against Cyrus. "I don't know. I just couldn't stomach the thought of going through with it."

"I believe you."

Scoffing, he said, "I left you to die, then thought about hurting you."

"I know, but you didn't, and that's enough for me."

Leaning forward, Cyrus' lips caressed his. Greyson yanked him closer, grasping his back. Part of Greyson felt surprised that Cyrus even wanted to kiss him after everything he revealed, but Greyson was glad he did. Fisting a hand in Cyrus' soft, blonde hair, he groaned. Greyson could not believe that he'd fallen in love with him. It seemed impossible. But now, he couldn't imagine his life without Cyrus.

Cyrus pushed him, shoving, until they fell back. Cyrus flopped on top of him as his hands roamed Greyson's chest and his hips ground against him. "Cyrus," Greyson protested, turning his head away from Cyrus' insistent lips.

"No," Cyrus gasped. "Don't leave now."

"I just told you I lied and plotted to kill you."

"I don't care," Cyrus said, kissing him again. "I forgive you."

He wanted to laugh, but Cyrus' mouth was on his. Losing himself to the sensations running through his body, Greyson forgot what he intended to say. After a moment, he rolled on top of Cyrus, who burrowed against him. Greyson's fingers skimmed along Cyrus' muscles. His every touch made Cyrus moan and grip his sides tightly.

It was not enough. Greyson needed more.

Heat burned him, and sweat dotted his brow. Cyrus let go of his waist and started undoing the ties of Greyson's pants. That jolted him out of the pleasant sensations. Greyson grabbed Cyrus' wrists and held them above his head.

Panting, Greyson said, "No."

"Why?" Cyrus asked, voice uneven. "You want this as much as I do."

"I do," Greyson agreed. He had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Cyrus. Need consumed him and actively destroyed all rational thought, making him want to stop talking, but he couldn't. "Cyrus, if you had your memories, you wouldn't want this."

"You don't know that."

Greyson let go of his hands while remaining on top of Cyrus. His fingers trailed over Cyrus' perfect face. "You're right. I don't, but I'm pretty sure."

"I want this right now. I may never get my memories back, Greyson. Am I supposed to never be with you? Because that sounds horrible."

"I get that and I agree, but it's difficult for me. This is difficult for me."

Cyrus held his face and whispered, "What do you need from me? What words will soothe your anxiety?"

"I don't want to take advantage of you."

Laughing, Cyrus arched his hips into him so Greyson could feel his desire. "You are not taking advantage of me. I want you."

He placed a firm kiss on Cyrus' lips. How Greyson wanted to lose himself in the moment, but he had reservations that could not be talked away. "I can't," he said, breaking away.

"What is the problem?"

"You could be married, Cyrus. A spouse and kids could be waiting for you." Greyson honestly had no idea if Cyrus was married as he'd never cared one way or another before now. Cyrus was in his early twenties. It wouldn't be too crazy for him to have already married.

"Oh." Cyrus' head fell back against the floor. "That's possible. Though I'm gonna tell you right now if I am married, it's not to a woman. I'm gay. Just a thought."

"That doesn't change the fact that you might be married," Greyson snapped, sitting up. "I can't sleep with you until I know that you're actually mine."

"We've already slept together," Cyrus remarked with a smirk.

"Seriously?" When Cyrus did not respond, Greyson said in a clipped tone, "Fine. I can't have sex with you until I know you're not married."

"Okay," Cyrus said. "But just so you know, I'm already yours. Whether I'm married or not, I'm yours, Greyson."

At those words, Greyson groaned and yanked Cyrus closer, kissing him hard. "You have to not say things like that."

"It's the truth," Cyrus said against his lips.

It took everything he had to pull back from Cyrus when all Greyson wanted to do was continue until they both got lost in each other. "I can't believe you want to be with me after everything. I tried to kill you."

Cyrus trailed a finger over his bottom lip. "I love you, Greyson."

"Still," he persisted. If the situation had been reversed, Greyson wouldn't have been as forgiving.

He shrugged. "I know you don't want to hurt me anymore, and you didn't go through with it. You and me, Greyson. We belong together."

They did, but Greyson couldn't believe that Cyrus was so forgiving. Despite that, he let it go. He had to trust Cyrus. "First," he said, "we wait for the letter to arrive from my friend in the capital. He may have some notion as to why you traveled so far. Second, we will figure out if you're married."

"How?"

"By taking you to the representative in Woodhurst. Lord Darius would know, though he'll want to send you back to the capital for treatment."

Cyrus immediately said, "You can't go to the capital."

"No."

"I would have to go without you."

"Yes," Greyson said, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat.

"I won't go, not without you."

"In the end, we might not have a choice. The emperor is going to send soldiers to search for you. I wasn't going to keep you here forever because it could endanger the people of the Griseo Mountains."

Their time would come to an end soon, whether they willed it or not. It was simply the reality before them. Greyson may not want Cyrus and him to separate, but in the end, they probably wouldn't have a choice.

Cyrus' arms wrapped about his neck. Greyson shifted to his knees and returned the hug. Cyrus tightened his hold until it was almost painful. "I will not go without you."

"Cyrus," he said. "You may or may not be mine, but I am most definitely yours, wholly and completely. If you have to go back to the capital for a few months or even years, I will be here, waiting for you."

Cyrus did not respond; he simply held Greyson even tighter.

He snuggled in bed next to Greyson, who slept on his right side, like always, with his arms around him. Greyson's breath came out slow and even, deep asleep. Sleep wouldn't find Cyrus. He nuzzled Greyson, pressing as close as possible.

Nonetheless, sleep would not come. He shifted on the bed, trying to get comfortable. His gaze moved to Greyson's face, tracing it, as tension tightened his muscles. Everything. Cyrus knew everything now. It hadn't been shocking to learn they weren't friends. He'd already suspected. Also, fighting for the Zaesian Empire wasn't surprising. Other people's reactions suddenly made complete and total sense.

Though, he hadn't even suspected his relation to Emperor Caspian. Cyrus was his nephew. Prince of the realm. How was he supposed to accept that? Not that it mattered much right now, but it felt like a weight settled on his shoulders. There were responsibilities with the position, even if he didn't remember them.

Greyson moaned in his sleep, shifting against Cyrus and drawing his attention. Greyson had hated him. Cyrus bit his lip as his chest tightened. When Greyson confessed, he was fine with it. Now, the image of Greyson holding the poison berries replayed in his mind over and over. It wouldn't vanish. He'd left Cyrus to die, then later tried to kill him. How was he supposed to get over that? Yes, Greyson wouldn't do it again, and they had a history of animosity that fueled his actions, but still, he'd plotted to kill him.

Arms tightened, drawing Cyrus tight against a solid chest. A woodsy, pine scent tickled his nose and soothed him. He clutched Greyson's back as he pressed his face into his shirt. Cyrus didn't want to be angry, and he wasn't. He didn't think so, at least. He was…Cyrus didn't honestly know. His emotions were a jumble. Greyson had lied, plotted, and concealed things from him. Nonetheless, Cyrus loved him and wanted to be with him.

Cyrus traced Greyson's face. Nodding, he took a deep breath. He would have to let it go. As hard as it was, he would have move on. They had enough problems, and from what little Greyson said, there were enough things in their past to separate them without dwelling on this. Cyrus could put it behind him because no matter what he didn't want to live without Greyson.

Now for the other pressing problem—sex. Cyrus wanted Greyson, badly. It was like an ache that wouldn't ease. While honorable, Greyson wanting to hold off because of his lack of memories and the possibility of Cyrus being married was irritating. He wanted Greyson right now, and that should be enough. Also, Cyrus truly didn't think he was married. He was Greyson's. It was as simple as that to him.

The chances of his memories returning were slight, even though he had a few vague ones, so they had no way of knowing whether he was married or not without going to the representative. His heart hammered at the thought. He didn't want to travel to the capital, at least, not without Greyson. As much as Greyson said he would wait, Cyrus didn't want to separate from him. They belonged together.

Everything that happened in the past would have to stay there. Cyrus wanted nothing to do with it. All he needed and wanted was Greyson.