32

Greyson glared at Cyrus who sat at the table, reading paperwork, while the fire cheerily burned behind him. He'd been in bed the last couple of days because Widow Jones happened to catch a glimpse of him dragging his leg. The old woman immediately yelled at him. It had been a long conversation, which Cyrus got involved in because the old widow got so upset about it. Long story short, Greyson had to stay off his leg and ice his knee and side.

Boredom had almost immediately set in. He was unused to inaction. At home, he hunted, foraged, made poultices and potions, taught people, helped in the village, and did a myriad of other tasks. But now, Greyson had to remain in bed and do nothing.

Glancing at Cyrus, Greyson smirked. He gripped his staff, which was on the bed next to him, and flicked it, scattering the papers Cyrus read across the table and onto the floor.

"Seriously? That's the third time, Greyson. I'm going to come over there and take your staff," Cyrus said, collecting the reports.

"I'm bored."

"I am aware. You"re lucky I can work from this room, so you don't have to be in here alone."

He stared at the ceiling, his side and knee throbbing. A chair scraped on the floor followed by the sound of bare feet padding over the wood floor. Something bumped the bed and made it shift. Greyson looked to the side, and Cyrus stood next to him.

"We could do a snow pack on your side."

"Yay," he said with obvious sarcasm.

"You make a horrible patient, you know that?"

Chuckling, he said, "I know."

Cyrus shook his head, but humor danced in his eyes. "I'll be right back."

Greyson watched as Cyrus donned his boots, gloves, and cloak, then went outside. A couple of minutes later, he set the bag filled with snow on the ground.

Pulling his gloves off, Cyrus said, "Let me help you onto your side." Cyrus was gentle, but shifting of any kind hurt terribly. Breath coming out in short gasps, Greyson settled on his side. Cyrus brushed the black hair back and asked, "Are you okay?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

Cyrus draped a towel over his injured side, then slowly lowered the snow-filled bag onto him. Greyson inhaled sharply. It always burned at first, but it would help in the end. Cyrus carefully arranged the snow, in what used to be a pillowcase, until it spread over his injured ribs.

"Is that okay?"

"Yes." The snow chilled Greyson and got the bed wet, but after two days of careful treatment, his knee and ribs had started to feel better.

"After we do this to your knee, I can make you some willow bark tea," Cyrus said. Greyson's nose crinkled, and Cyrus laughed. "Fine, I can ask Widow Jones to make you some willow bark tea."

"That would be much better. I thought I would die the last time you made it."

"I don't have your cooking skills."

"Hmm, you did grow up in a palace."

"True, not much use for me to learn there," Cyrus said as he returned to the table to read the reports.

Yesterday, Cyrus read them out loud, which Greyson did not enjoy, but today, he seemed content to keep the boring expenses and mining logs to himself. After about twenty minutes, Cyrus threw another log onto the already hot fire and picked up the dripping bag on Greyson's side.

"I'm going to refill this. Don't move until I get back. I'll help you resituate, alright?"

"Fine."

Greyson did not enjoy moving this time either, but his side hurt less. He didn't know if the ice actually helped his healing process or if his staying in bed doing nothing is what actually worked. Cyrus carefully lifted Greyson's right leg and squished a pillow under his knee before putting a fresh towel on his leg and resting the bag of snow on the injured joint.

Cyrus returned to the table, and Greyson could not help but marvel at him. Cyrus had healed so much faster because of magic. His two cuts and head injury had vanished completely, without even a trace of a scar. While the stab wound in his shoulder had closed up, Greyson worried that the muscles and tendons were not fully healed, but Cyrus acted as if his shoulder didn't bother him. It grated on Greyson that he was the only one in need of care, even though Cyrus did not mind taking care of him.

He hadn't told Cyrus about Lily, the little girl that saved his life, because Greyson had promised Widow Jones not to say anything. The empire had taken Greyson's mother because of her healing ability, and she wouldn't have been able to save Cyrus. Widow Jones had a right to fear for her great-granddaughter.

Nevertheless, he would forever be grateful. Cyrus would not have lived without the child's assistance.

About twenty minutes later, Cyrus removed the bag, setting it aside. His blue eyes fell to Greyson's knee. "How does it feel?"

"Better."

"I'm glad," Cyrus said. "Did you want some willow bark tea?"

"If you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all."

The weather, if possible, had grown even colder the last couple of days. Thick clouds coated the sky, and the wind whistled around the buildings. Shoulders to his ears, Cyrus tugged his cloak tighter against him and slowly walked down the stairs, careful not to slip on the frozen steps.

Striding around the building to where the front door was, Cyrus came to a sudden halt. A group of people rode up the steep path. Horses, wagons, and a carriage lumbered toward the village. Cyrus moved toward the square, trying to get a better view of the newcomers. A flag bearing a familiar crest flew above the group. With a slight smile, he waited as the group leisurely made their way into Woodhurst.

A man jumped out of the elaborate carriage. "Cyrus, I thought I would find you dead."

He grinned at Jasper, husband to his cousin, Jade. "It's good to see you."

His cousin enfolded him in a hug, squeezing him and slapping his back. "Cyrus, we thought Mage Greyson had killed you. What are you doing here?"

A laugh broke out of his lips as Cyrus studied his friend. Jasper was about an inch taller than him, broad-shouldered with blonde hair a shade or two lighter than his own. His warm brown skin glowed with health while his pale green eyes remained on Cyrus.

While Jasper was not traditionally handsome with his narrow features, he was by no means unattractive. When Jasper had first been arranged to marry Jade, he'd been slightly jealous because he found Jasper attractive, but in the end, it wouldn't have mattered, as Cyrus couldn't let go of Greyson.

"It's a long story," Cyrus said.

"I'll bet. You stopped writing months ago," Jasper replied. "Why are you here? Oh, did Greyson attempt to kill you and you had to go to Lord Darius?"

"No, Greyson didn't," he said. "I will explain everything, but Lord Darius is currently confined to his home. I sent Uncle a letter with the details a little over a week ago."

"Not that I like Darius," Jasper said, crossing his arms, "but why is he confined?"

"Illegal possession of poison, which I didn't tell Uncle about, lying to me, and not assisting me when my life was threatened or when I was injured. I don't think this is a good placement for him."

Jasper ran a hand through his short hair, making it stick up in places. "Nowhere is a good placement for him." Staring at him, he asked, "You didn't tell the emperor about the poison because Greyson made it, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"You have to stop protecting him," Jasper said loudly, hands waving. "The mage is never going to like you back."

Cyrus was anticipating that revelation.

"I assume I can't stay with Lord Darius, so where am I and my soldiers going to sleep?"

"I'll introduce you to the captain of the guard. He'll house your soldiers, then I'll ask around and see if one of the villagers will host you," Cyrus said.

"Everyone in the Griseo Mountains hates us, especially you."

"I'm growing on people."

Jasper raised his eyebrows.

He spoke the truth; people here had started to like him. The main, and he assumed only, reason was that Greyson loved him and willingly showed that in frequent displays of affection. The people of the Griseo Mountains would always follow Greyson, which was the reason why the emperor wanted to execute him.

After he got Jasper's soldiers sorted, he led him to the room Cyrus shared with Greyson.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm renting a room."

"So I'm going to stay with you?"

"No," Cyrus said with a snort. He didn't want to live with anyone besides Greyson nor did he want to share his time with Greyson.

As Cyrus opened the door, Greyson said, "It took you long enough."