39

Cyrus walked into the oppressively hot blacksmith's shop, biting his lip. He hoped he wasn't doing something stupid, but he had to at least try. The front of the shop was connected to the forge on the right-hand side, if the heat emanating from the wall was any evidence. While the shop itself was not large, a chipped and scratched wooden counter spanned the room, and shelves lined the wall behind it filled with various items from nails to horseshoes.

A man came out from a side room, wiping his blackened hands on a rag. He was a massive mountain of a man with dark brown hair and gray eyes a shade or two lighter than Greyson's.

"Prince Cyrus," the man said, eyebrows raised. "This is a surprise."

"Hello," he said. "I don't suppose you do small metal work?"

"Like what?"

"Like a ring." A blush stole over his cheeks.

The man grinned. "You're going to propose to Greyson."

"I am," Cyrus said, fighting the sudden rush of emotion that clogged his throat. "I'll probably bawl my eyes out, but yes."

Chuckling, the huge man said, "When I proposed to my husband, I was crying so much that I couldn't even get the words out. He just stared at me as I held out a ring, blubbering. Finally, he was like, ‘Are you proposing to me?' I nodded, and he laughed. I thought he was going to break my heart, but he accepted my proposal."

"What's your name?" Cyrus asked, chuckling.

"John."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well."

"So," Cyrus started, "do you have rings?"

"I do."

"Excellent." Cyrus didn't know if Greyson would accept his proposal, but he wanted to ask.

"In fact," John said, leaning his hulking forearms on the counter, "I have a ring that I think would be perfect." He bent down and removed a plain, wooden box. Opening it, he took out a ring.

The second he saw it, Cyrus knew it was the one. It was a black metal band, and in the center were iridescent blue stones set inside the band. "It's perfect," he said. "It's like his staff."

"The stones are the same ones we mine. The ones that are too small or weak to be made into artifacts are usually ground into dust and sold to make potions, but I buy a few for jewelry. It's a Griseo Mountain tradition to have a wedding ring with a venetus. Just because Greyson is marrying an outsider doesn't mean he should be excluded."

"You think he'll marry me?"

"I do," John replied. "It's obvious he loves you."

"How much for it?"

"This one will cost more because my husband also used magic to help craft it. He has the ability to change metal colors, like this one here."

"How much?"

"A gold."

Cyrus whistled. That was a lot of money. It was no wonder why the ring was available if John was charging that much.

"I can bill the estate if you'd like."

"I want to buy it myself. Would you take anything else for it?"

Smiling, John leaned on the counter again. "I've heard Greyson made some healing potions. I would take a bottle for that."

Chewing on his lip, he stared at the ring. Cyrus didn't want Greyson to know about the ring, but he'd rather owe Greyson than his uncle. "I'll see what I can do."

"I'll hold it for you, then."

"Thank you," Cyrus said, heading out of the warm shop.

Greyson sat on the floor near the fireplace with a mortar and pestle between his legs. He'd found some ignis berries—a bright orange berry that warmed the skin. Carefully mushing the berries, he added a few herbs and spices to make a poultice.

The door opened, and he glanced at it, smiling. Cyrus had left early this morning, taking himself off somewhere. "Hey, love," Greyson said, as he continued his controlled movements.

"What are you doing? Poisoning someone?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't poison people that often. This is a poultice for Widow Jones and Widower Smith as a thank you."

"Ah." Cyrus crouched in front of him, biting his lip, gaze averted.

Greyson grabbed his chin, making Cyrus free his lip. "Don't do that unless you want this afternoon to go a very different way."

Cyrus leaned closer. "I don't think I'd mind that."

"Let me finish this first." Greyson went back to the poultice. Once it was finished, he would put it into tins.

"I need a favor."

"What?"

"Can I have one of the bottles of healing potion?" Cyrus asked, bouncing a bit.

"Why?"Greyson asked, steadily moving the pestle in a counterclockwise motion.

"I can't tell you. But as repayment, I will give two favors that I can't say no to."

A smile stretched over his lips as different possibilities played through his mind. "I would've given it to you for free, but sure. Two favors, that's worth it."

"Damn it. I should've just asked," Cyrus said, grinning.

"Don't worry. I'll think of something fun."

Cyrus straightened and walked toward the kitchen where the potions sat on the counter.

"I thought we were going to have sex once I finished this?" he protested.

"Is that a favor?"

Scoffing, he said, "No."

"Then I will be right back."

Greyson watched Cyrus leave the apartment before turning back to the poultice.

Cyrus had been acting oddly the last few days. He kept looking at him, opening his mouth before snapping it closed. Greyson had no idea what was going on, but he figured Cyrus harbored some doubts he did not want to talk about.

Greyson had some doubts as well, not about them as a couple, but about what the future would look like. He tried to talk to Cyrus about this plan Empress Quinn concocted, but the words got caught in his throat. Sharing had never been something he was good at. Also, he didn't want Cyrus to think he didn't trust him because Greyson did. He knew Cyrus wouldn't let anything happen to the people of the Griseo Mountains. If the emperor threatened them, Cyrus would leave, regardless of how much it hurt.

That wasn't what truly worried him, though.

When Lady Lyra arrived to replace Lord Darius, it would be time for Greyson to travel home. Cyrus would go with him, but he didn't know how Cyrus would do in Drakcombe and his tiny cabin. Before Cyrus had regained his memories, he liked it, but he had nothing to compare it to. Now, Greyson didn't know if Cyrus could be happy there.

This was something he hadn't even tried to convey to Cyrus. Clearly, Greyson was going to have to work on his communication skills. He frowned at the very thought.

Cyrus sank down in the chair next to him. "Are you alright?"

He opened his mouth to say the words that needed to be spoken, but they remained buried within him. Instead, he replied, "Of course."

Nodding, Cyrus bit his lip and stared at the fireplace. His bottom lip looked much plumper with his perfect teeth sunk into it. Cyrus licked his lips, then returned to chewing on the bottom one. Greyson wanted to taste them for himself, then possibly other parts of Cyrus. Greyson yanked his gaze away. This is why he loved and hated when Cyrus bit his lip. It drew him in like nothing else. Focusing on Cyrus, not his lips, he noticed the tension in his shoulders and the way his hands curled and uncurled on his thighs.

"What's going on, love?"

Releasing his lip, Cyrus asked, "What?"

"You're acting weird."

"Am not."

Greyson rolled his eyes. "You are."

Cyrus did not respond, not that Greyson could blame him.

As it was getting late and they'd already eaten dinner, Greyson collected the plates and stacked them on the counter to wash them in the morning. Then he placed a large log on the low burning flames.

"Are you going to sleep?" Cyrus asked.

He wiped his hands on his trousers. "That was the plan."

"Come sit with me," Cyrus said, holding his arms out.

Greyson stood between Cyrus' legs. Cyrus slung his arms around Greyson's waist, staring up at him. Greyson brushed Cyrus' hair, smiling as the blonde strands slid between his fingers.

Cyrus groaned, which made his smile widen. Greyson rubbed his fingers over Cyrus' head, the silky hair sliding through his grasp, then tugged on Cyrus' hair. "It's late."

Cyrus made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Come on."

"I love you," Cyrus whispered.

"I love you too."

Shaking his head, Cyrus gathered him closer, chin resting on Greyson's stomach. "I really love you."

"I know," he said. "I really love you as well"

"I want to stay with you forever."

Greyson caressed Cyrus' cheek. "That's convenient because I don't plan to let you go."

"You don't?"

"No. You're mine." Greyson could not imagine his life without him, as strange as it was. Less than a year ago, he hadn't wanted anything to do with Cyrus; now, Greyson didn't want to be separated from him.

A grin stretched over Cyrus' face. "I want to ask you something."

"Okay?"

Cyrus stared straight at him and asked, "Will you marry me?"

His mouth fell open as tingles cascaded through his body. Blinking several times, Greyson nodded, mouth still open.

"You will?"

"Yes," Greyson replied, grinning. He grabbed Cyus' face, bending down to kiss him, hard. Cyrus' lips moved frantically over Greyson's as he stood. Greyson's hands slid around Cyrus as he pressed closer, clutching his back.

Breaking away, Cyrus breathed in quick gasps, chest heaving, as he said, "I didn't think you'd say yes."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Cyrus shoved a hand into his pocket and produced something small. Greyson watched as Cyrus slowly slid a ring on his finger. He could not help but admire the black metal ring with blue glimmering stones.

"Is this why you wanted the healing potion?"

"Yes."

Greyson pressed his forehead against Cyrus. "You could've told me."

"It wouldn't have been a surprise, then."

Suddenly, he started laughing as an image shot through his mind.

"What?" Cyrus asked.

"Should we have Lord Darius perform the ceremony?"

Chuckling, Cyrus said, "Best to wait for Lady Lyra, I think."

"You're probably right."