26

Everything hurt. His head pounded and his muscles pulsed as bile climbed his throat. Cyrus had no idea what was going on. Where am I? he thought. Everything was muddled. He tried to think back to what he last remembered. He'd been attacked, then he was running, and—Greyson. He was in trouble.

He started to sit up, but something across his waist stopped him. Cyrus stilled. Greyson lay next to him, asleep. His pulse quickened as his mouth opened. How is this possible? Slowly, he lifted a hand, stopping when his shoulder twinged and made him moan.

Greyson jerked, arm tightening, then blinked at the bright light. His eyebrows drew together as he looked around before his gaze settled on him. Cyrus tensed, unsure. Greyson's face scrunched in a strong emotion that Cyrus couldn't identify.

"Cyrus."

Before Cyrus could react, Greyson kissed him. Cyrus froze. He couldn't move a single muscle as Greyson pressed against him, gripping his face. An awareness bloomed within his body. Cyrus returned the kiss, movements frantic. His head throbbed and his body ached, but at the moment, Cyrus couldn't care less. Greyson's lips were soft and gentle against his. Cyrus moaned, and Greyson's tongue delved into his mouth.

I'm dead, he thought. This is paradise. While he assumed paradise would involve less pain, Cyrus was all for it because Greyson was beside him.

Greyson pulled back, and Cyrus cried, "Don't go."

"I'm not going," Greyson replied with a smile.

His soft black hair brushed Cyrus' face, and his breath quickened from the contact while his heart thrashed from that expression. Cyrus had never seen Greyson smile in their entire acquaintance, not once. He clutched his woolen tunic, ignoring the throbbing in his head. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

A chuckle broke out of Greyson, making Cyrus' breath turn jagged. "No," Greyson said. "You're simply with me."

"I like the sound of that."

"Good." Stroking his cheek, Greyson's brow furrowed as emotion filled his eyes. "I thought you were going to die."

"I can't believe you found me," Cyrus said with a shake of his head. How in all the goddess' grace did Greyson find him?

Thumb pausing in its arc, Greyson blinked. "What?"

"You found me."

"You were right beside me," Greyson said slowly as his hand slid away.

"No, I wasn't. I was running from the bounty hunters." All of sudden, Cyrus remembered and seized Greyson's hand. "Greyson, you're in danger. Bounty hunters are on their way to get you. I killed a couple of them, but I couldn't get them all."

Greyson sat up, face pale. "Cyrus, what is the last thing you remember?"

"Running through the old battlefield near your village. My side was cut open. I remember a person with black hair. Can't recall their face. Then pain. Lots of pain."

Climbing out of bed, Greyson panted. "Oh, goddess."

Cyrus tried to sit up but couldn't. "What's going on?"

"You don't remember any of it?" Greyson asked, voice breaking.

"What are you talking about?"

"Cyrus," Greyson said, staring at him, "that was almost three months ago."

"No," he said. "It just happened!"

"I am not lying to you. I saved you almost three months ago."

It was the start of fall. He'd traveled from the capital to see Greyson. Cyrus shook his head as the world faded around him and a buzzing like angry bees filled his ears. It's not possible.

"Cyrus." Greyson's harsh voice cut through the terror. Greyson had become deathly pale as trembles wracked his body. "I need to go outside. I will come back and explain everything." Greyson practically ran out the door, and it swung closed behind him.

Cyrus sagged back on the bed, trying to calm the storm swirling inside of him. He could barely see his surroundings as his pulse thundered in his ears. It wasn't possible. None of this was possible. Greyson had to be lying to him. They weren't friends, and he had no reason to tell the truth.

When he shifted, his side throbbed. The bounty hunters had cut his side. With careful movements, he slipped the blanket down and examined where he'd been injured. A perfect white scar sat exactly where the bounty hunter had cut him. He had other bandages for wounds he didn't remember. He looked at where Greyson slept not long ago, and he paused.

A staff, Greyson's, was on the bed not far from him. Cyrus had never seen Greyson without his staff since he got it. Like he'd been struck by lightning, he thought, Greyson kissed me. Greyson had kissed him. His pulse accelerated. Is it possible?

Throwing the blanket off, he got to his feet, then tilted dangerously as his knees buckled. Cyrus forced himself straight. His head throbbed with every movement while his muscles cried and exhaustion weighed him down. He refused to stop; he had to know what the kiss meant.

He yanked the door open, and a world covered in white greeted him. Cold air enveloped his naked body as he gaped at the snow. Piles of it covered the wooden buildings, pine trees in the distance, and Validus Peak. It was not possible. How couldn't he remember the last three months?

Greyson hadn't gone far. He stood on the stair landing, leaning against the railing. His black hair hung around his gaunt face as each breath he released turned into a cloud. Cyrus stretched a hand out to him, feet scuffing on the icy wood.

"Cyrus," Greyson snapped. "What the hell are you doing?"

His knees buckled, and he started to sink to the landing. Greyson's arms wrapped about his waist, holding him up. Cyrus gripped the front of his tunic. "Greyson, you kissed me."

"Seriously?" Greyson started to drag him inside. "We can talk about that later. You're injured."

He wanted to protest but couldn't find the strength to do so. Cyrus leaned heavily on Greyson. He'd never been so close to him. The sharp yet sweet scent of pine wafted off his skin and made Cyrus take another deep breath. As they moved into the room, Cyrus half expected Greyson to let go of him, but he didn't.

"Why are you so heavy?" Greyson asked, practically carrying him.

Greyson helped him onto the soft bed, panting. He lifted his legs and tucked the blanket around his shoulders. Cyrus could feel exhaustion taking him, but he held on. He seized Greyson's hand. "You kissed me."

"You need to sleep, Cyrus."

"No," he said, even as his eyes started to close. "I don't understand, Greyson."

"I know," Greyson said. As sleep started to take Cyrus, a gentle touch on his lips warmed him. "Everything will return to normal once you wake."

Cyrus shook his head. He didn't want to go back to how it used to be. "Greyson," he cried sleepily, but Greyson did not reply.