31

Ascream tore through the air, jerking Greyson awake. His heart raced as his gaze darted around the dark room. He could not see much because the dwindling fire let off very little light. A moan came from behind him as Cyrus' arms clamped around his stomach. A vicious stabbing started in his ribs and stole his very breath. His mouth opened, and tears burned his eyes. Greyson tried to contain his cry, but it came out as a strangled whimper.

He grabbed Cyrus' arm, but he did not wake as more distressed sounds came from behind Greyson. Taking a shuddering breath, he said, "Cyrus."

Cyrus' arms tightened around him, which made Greyson grunt. "Cyrus," he tried again, patting his arm. "Wake up."

Cyrus started, gasping.

Greyson continued to pat his arm, which held him in a stranglehold. "Cyrus, love, you're hurting me."

Slowly, the pressure around his ribs loosened, and Greyson breathed a sigh of relief as tears coursed down his cheeks. Every breath felt like a knife stabbed his ribs, but it began to lessen when Cyrus released him.

Cyrus remained utterly motionless, muscles rigid against Greyson's back. Greyson held his hand. "You're alright. It was just a dream."

"Greyson?"

"Yes, love, I'm right here."

A gush of warm air rushed over the nape of his neck. Cyrus asked slowly, "We're together?"

Worry prickled along his spine, but he answered the question, "Yes."

"The war is over?"

"Yes."

Cyrus pressed his face against Greyson's neck, trembling. "It was a dream."

He stroked Cyrus' arm, trying to soothe the tension. "Just a dream."

This was the one thing he missed from when Cyrus had no memories because there had been nothing to haunt him, for the most part. Greyson wished he could banish the nightmares, but they would both be plagued with them for the rest of their lives.

"I'm sorry," Cyrus whispered.

"For what?"

"For hurting you."

"I'm fine," Greyson said, and it was the truth.

Cyrus pressed closer to Greyson.

His fingers continued to trail up and down Cyrus' arm in an attempt to soothe him, but it didn't seem to work. Greyson didn't know how to help Cyrus. They were in a relationship, but he couldn't do anything.

Greyson tried to roll over to at least see Cyrus. His ribs squeezed and stole his breath, but he ignored it. Cyrus gripped his hips and helped Greyson rearrange until he was on his back. Cyrus shoved one arm under his neck and leaned over him, brushing Greyson's cheek.

Greyson asked, "What can I do?"

"Can you take them?"

Pausing, he asked, "What?"

"My memories."

"Yes," Greyson replied, swallowing.

"Would you?"

"No."

"Why?"

Holding his dear face, Greyson said, "I couldn't just take the bad memories, Cyrus. I would have to take everything."

"We would still be together."

"Yes, but I won't do it."

"Why?" Cyrus asked again, his eyes glassy. "You loved me before with no memories. It wouldn't change anything."

"Besides the very practical reason that the emperor would kill me, I wouldn't do it anyway. I know what it"s like to have dreams so real you wake up thinking you're back on the battlefield, but I wouldn't ask another mage to erase all my memories because of them. I wouldn't want to forget my family, forget my friends, or forget falling in love with you for the bad memories to be gone. I love you, Cyrus. All of you. And there are things I know you don't want to forget, and there are things I don't want you to forget."

Cyrus pressed his forehead against Greyson's. "Sometimes I think it would be worth it."

"As do I, but after careful consideration, I always reject the idea."

"I wouldn't want to forget you again."

"Nor would I."

Cyrus rubbed against his forehead, breathing deeply. It was the after-effects of the nightmare that made Cyrus more emotional than usual, but Greyson liked comforting him.

"Sorry," Cyrus said.

"Don't apologize."

Gently, Cyrus kissed him. Greyson wrapped his arms around Cyrus' neck and held him close. He wanted to comfort him, to let Cyrus know he was not alone.

Cyrus nodded at the soldiers, then walked away, stretching his shoulder. He hadn't practiced swordplay yet because Greyson told him not to strain the muscles in his shoulder, but he did meet with the captain almost every day to make sure Lord Darius didn't cause any trouble. So far, the lord had remained quiet.

The weather was cold as usual, and the sky was clear. Even though Cyrus wore multiple layers, the frigid air nipped at him. He couldn't wait to go inside and warm up. Hopefully, Greyson would be there as well.

As his thoughts turned to Greyson, Cyrus couldn't help but think about last night. Dreams of the war were common occurrences for him. But last night, he'd dreamed of Greyson, just out of reach while the battle raged on. When he finally got to him, Greyson attacked him. Cyrus kept trying to explain, but it didn't matter. He would not listen.

Then Greyson had woken him up. They were in bed together, completely safe. Cyrus couldn't believe he'd asked Greyson to take his memories. It wasn't something he would normally request, as he didn't want to forget, but at that moment, all he wanted was for the bad memories to disappear.

He'd been deeply embarrassed this morning, but Greyson had treated him no different, kissing Cyrus senseless before he left. That had buried all of the embarrassment.

Shaking his head, Cyrus banished the thoughts of last night as he crossed the square toward the home he and Greyson currently resided in. As he was about to round the corner, he stopped, seeing a familiar figure. Greyson stood in front of a group of children in the middle of the barren road. He demonstrated a motion with his staff as he spoke. Then Greyson whipped his staff at a snowball. The snowball shot off at the closest building, breaking apart.

The children hooted, clapping. Greyson organized them into a line and pointed at the snowballs not far from them. The children flung out their hands, trying to imitate the smooth, whip-like motion. None of the snowballs even twitched, except for Jessica's. Magic curled around the snowball, making it fling into the distance.

Nonetheless, Greyson clapped for them. Jessica made another snowball before standing in line with the other children. They tried again and again. It took several attempts for most of the children to be able to complete the spell. Each time, Greyson applauded them and corrected their movements until, finally, all the children mastered the great technique of magically throwing a snowball.

Cyrus had no idea what the spell could be good for besides driving other children and their parents crazy, but Greyson beamed at them like a proud father. Cyrus moved closer to the group, clapping. Greyson and the children swiveled toward him. Greyson smiled brightly, which made him pause in his step. His smile came so easily now, and each one was like a delicacy that demanded to be savored.

Jessica waved, shoving her tousled braid over her shoulder, while the other children hid behind Greyson. That small action hurt, but Cyrus could understand it.

Greyson limped in his direction, practically dragging his right leg. When he reached Cyrus, Greyson grabbed his cheeks and kissed him, not embarrassed or shy about the people around them.

After a moment, Greyson shifted back because a boy of about seven with an unruly thatch of brown hair tugged on his cloak. "What, Aaron?"

"Why are you kissing Prince Cyrus?" the child asked, his light brown eyes darting to Cyrus.

"Because he's my boyfriend."

"Oh." Aaron then looked at Cyrus, face scrunching. "Does he have magic?"

"No," Greyson answered.

"That's stupid."

Cyrus' mouth fell open as he glanced at Aaron, then Greyson. "I'm a very skilled warrior."

"Still not as cool as being a mage," Aaron argued.

"It is. Tell him, Greyson," he said, nudging him.

"I'm not getting involved in this fight," Greyson said with a shake of his head.

Cyrus crossed his arms.

Greyson kissed his cheek before saying, "Cyrus is very talented and awesome."

"If you say so," Aaron remarked dubiously.

Before Cyrus could reply, Greyson said to the children, "I will teach you more spells tomorrow. Go bother your parents."

They started to complain, but he kept shooing them with a wave of his hands.

When the children dispersed, Cyrus said, "I'm just as cool as a mage."

"Sure," Greyson said, arms going over Cyrus' shoulders. "I can set stuff on fire, uproot trees, fling large rocks, and summon lighting, but you're just as awesome."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Greyson laughed. A loud, real laugh. Cyrus' heart pounded at the sound. Greyson leaned forward and said, "I'm teasing, Cyrus. I think you're very cool."

"I knew it."

Greyson laughed again.

The next morning, Cyrus jolted awake as Greyson got up. "Where are you going?" he asked sleepily as he peered out the window. The sky had just started to lighten. "It's early."

"I promised to teach the kids some new spells."

"So?"

"Jessica cornered me yesterday evening, and I mistakenly promised to teach her how to create a mage fire."

"You did what?" Cyrus asked, sitting up. Mage fire burned hotter than a normal fire, and it was much harder to extinguish.

"Nothing to worry about," Greyson said with a wave. "I'll teach them how to control it."

"Them?"

"Well, I assume the other kids will want to come along."

Cyrus gaped. "Let me get this right. You are going to teach a group of children how to create mage fire in the middle of the village square?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm going to take them to a clearing not far from here."

"Greyson," he groaned.

"Stop worrying. I have taught many, many people how to do this. I know what I'm doing."

Unable to stop himself, he sighed, brow furrowing. He wanted to believe Greyson, but mage fire was exceedingly dangerous.

"Fine," Greyson snapped. "If you're so worried, you can come with me."

"Really?" Cyrus asked, perking up.

"Of course."

When they exited their apartment, a group of children were gathered by the stairs, led by Jessica.

"Well, I won't have to search for you," Greyson commented as he walked toward them, leaning heavily on his staff. Greyson's leg was not healing right, but he kept brushing it off.

Coming to Greyson's side, Cyrus lifted his right arm across his shoulders, supporting him. "Where to?"

"This way," Greyson replied, pointing with his staff.

As a group, they tramped across the snow and out of the village. Cyrus' breath came out in a cloud as the cold dug into his skin. Ignoring it, he foraged on with Greyson's arm over a shoulder and an arm hooked about his waist, careful not to squeeze his ribs. They strode under the pine boughs for about fifteen minutes until they came to a wide open space with a few boulders and surrounded by snow-laden trees.

"Perfect," Greyson said.

Pulling away from Cyrus, he lined the children up and began to explain the process of mage fire, some of which Cyrus already knew, like the fact that mage fire needed no fuel. Greyson showed them the motion required—a quick jab with the dominant hand.

Magic was a bit of a mystery to Cyrus, as no one had explained it. Cyrus knew bits and pieces. Mages were born with magic and could use magic even unbound to an artifact, but were much stronger once bound. The artifact would absorb the magic the mage didn't use and store it for later. But the danger was if the artifact broke, the mage could never use magic again.

What Cyrus was unsure about was the actual use of spells. From what he'd seen, it depended on the capability of the mage, whether they used that type of magic, and the repetition of movements.

While Greyson could fling his hand and produce a spell with no trouble, seeing these children assured Cyrus this wasn't always the case.

Greyson had the children practice the quick jab over and over again while he heavily leaned on his staff. Once satisfied, he had them try it. None of the children succeeded on the first or second or even tenth attempt. Greyson remained patient, correcting the movements and offering advice about channeling their magic.

A little girl of about four soon caught Cyrus' attention. She had the most serious face. Every time she punched forward with her pudgy fist, she would make a low growl, chin jutting out. Chuckling, Cyrus glanced at Greyson to see if he noticed. Greyson smiled at the little girl before his gaze moved to Cyrus, eyebrows raised. He couldn't help but laugh.

After a bit, Greyson told them to stop. Aaron crossed his arms and sank to the ground, the image of discouragement.

"You'll all get it. It takes time and practice. Visualize the magic traveling down your arm, growing warmer as it goes, then becoming a blazing fire on your fingertips."

When none of them, not even Jessica responded, Greyson waved him forward. Cyrus came to his side, and Greyson gave him the staff. "Watch, Cyrus can't do it either."

The kids grinned while Cyrus frowned. He wasn't a mage. He would never be able to create mage fire, even if he stood there the rest of his life. The staff vibrated under his fingertips. Cyrus, knowing he was being played the fool, jabbed the staff forward, and lo and behold, nothing happened.

All of the kids giggled, no doubt Greyson's intention, and tried again.

Greyson draped an arm around his shoulders. "Thanks, love."

He tried to give the staff back, but Greyson refused it. Cyrus smiled, staring at the ground, warmed by the show of trust. Slowly, they were making their way to each other and setting the past behind them—where it belonged.

Only Jessica and one other child were able to produce mage fire. Once they did, Greyson showed them how to put out the said fire, which took a bit. Cyrus watched the roaring flames warily as he frequently glanced at the pine trees. He'd seen firsthand how fast they caught alight. But Greyson had it under control, and his students got the fire out after a few minutes.

"Excellent," he said.

"But I couldn't do it," Aaron complained.

Greyson limped over to the boy. "Maybe fire is not your skill. What about rocks?"

"I like rocks," Aaron immediately shouted.

"Good." Greyson bent down next to Aaron and pointed to a stone, maybe the size of a child's fist. "Why don't you roll that rock?"

"How?"

He demonstrated a fancy twisting, flourish as he flipped his left hand over. Aaron watched a couple of times before he lifted his right hand which had a bracelet with blackish-purple stones and tried to move the rock. It took a few times, but eventually, the rock lifted up on its side, then flopped over. Aaron crowed in victory, jumping up and down.

"Excellent job, Aaron," Greyson said.

"Can you move that stone?" Jessica asked, pointing at a massive, snow-covered boulder.

Cyrus' eyebrows shot up as he looked between Greyson and the rock that was easily twice as tall as him and a good deal broader.

"You want me to show off," he said, staring at Jessica, who innocently twirled her perpetually messy braid around her finger. Frowning, Greyson said, "Fine."

Greyson trudged toward him, but when Cyrus held out the staff, he shook his head. "Why doesn't Cyrus help me?"

"What?" he asked at the same time Jessica did.

Smirking, Greyson came behind Cyrus and grasped the staff right below his hand. "Don't worry," Greyson whispered against his ear. Magic pulsated under Cyrus' fingers and down his arm, making his hair raise. Greyson lifted the staff in a slow arc, then prodded toward the stone. The boulder shivered, snow sliding off, before it slowly rose.

An ocean of magic poured under Cyrus' skin, making his breath turn sharp as his limbs quivered. Until that instant, he hadn't understood the breadth of Greyson's magic and just how powerful he truly was.

The boulder continued to lazily rise, did a couple of twirls in the air, then settled back in its place.

Cheers sounded as the kids exclaimed and clapped. Greyson smiled at them, but Cyrus felt him start to tremble. Shifting, Greyson wrapped an arm around Cyrus' waist and said, "Jessica, why don't you take them back? I think I'm going to stroll leisurely with my boyfriend."

The teenager rolled her eyes but complied. She gathered the gaggle of children, taking the two youngests' hands in hers, then strode off.

As soon as the group moved out of sight, Greyson dropped his arm, shaking, and bent over as his breath came out in quick gasps.

"Are you okay?" Cyrus asked, brushing the hair out of his face.

"No, I haven't used that much magic recently. I'm getting soft."

Cyrus ran his eyes up and down Greyson's tight form. "I don't see it."

"Magically speaking. It's like regular muscles, you have to keep working at it and using it or it fades."

"Well, I was impressed."

"I'm glad," he said, "but I've got to start practicing more."