9

"Are you out of your mind?" Elizabeth asked the next day.

Greyson stood outside, not far from Elizabeth's house, and watched Cyrus kick a ball around with a group of teenagers in the middle of the village. The sun was decently warm for the late fall day without a single cloud in the sky.

All morning, she'd held her peace about bringing the golden boy of the capital into her house, but now that they were alone, she did not hold back.

"You brought the emperor's nephew, his only nephew, here. What's going on?"

This was a bad idea—a very bad idea. He didn't have a good explanation for her, but he had to come up with one. Unable to, he scanned the village, searching for differences since the last time he'd been here. Most of the homes were single-story while a few were two stories with shops on the ground floor. All of the buildings were wood with thick windows, shutters, and full planters. There were a couple of buildings toward the center of the village that were three-story and under construction.

Creekside, like a few other villages, had started growing now that more money was starting to enter the Griseo Mountains.

Elizabeth coughed.

"Cyrus doesn't remember who he is," Greyson said, even though it was not much of a reason.

"So take him to Woodhurst and leave him with the emperor's representative. Lord Darius will take care of it."

"I need to know why he's here, and if it spells trouble for us all."

She twirled a frizzy curl around her finger. "Did you ask anyone from the capital?"

"Yes," he replied, eyes following Cyrus as he chased after the children, laughing uproariously. "But it'll be at least a couple of months before I receive a response."

"You might not find anything out, and even if you did, what would it matter? We couldn't survive another war."

Elizabeth was right. The information was probably not worth the risk. Nonetheless, Greyson couldn't send him to the representative yet, for reasons he did not understand. He had a hard time explaining the complete unwillingness to send Cyrus away that resided in his very muscles, making them tense at the very thought. It was irrational, but it wouldn't be banished.

In an attempt to defend his rash decision, he said, "We can prepare better if we know what the emperor plans."

Elizabeth scoffed. "Yeah, right. What plan could withstand the force that he would rain down upon us?"

Greyson had no argument to dispute that, so he remained quiet, watching as Cyrus raced back and forth with the teenagers who were too young to know who he was and to fear him for it. At the same time, they were also too old to fear him for simply being an outsider.

"He'd better not die," Elizabeth said abruptly.

"Why?"

"If you'd kept him secluded in your home, it wouldn't matter. But," she said, gesturing to all the people around them, "too many people have seen him now. If he dies, someone might mention his presence to the wrong person, and Emperor Caspian would blame us. I swear I will rat you out for the preservation of the rest of us."

"I know," Greyson said, "I was already having second thoughts about killing him."

"Just pass him off to Lord Darius, Greyson. He's not your problem, and you could endanger us all."

She was right again, but as Greyson watched Cyrus smiling broadly, he didn't want to take him to Woodhurst. It would spell the end of all his chances to find out why Cyrus had traveled from the capital to here—the middle of nowhere. If something happened to Cyrus, it could be disastrous for all of his people. The emperor was not a kind man, and he lurked in the background, waiting for a chance to tighten his grasp on them once more.

"Do you know who could have wiped his memories?" he asked.

"Are you sure someone scrambled his mind?"

"Pretty sure, yeah. He didn't even know his own name. He had no head injuries that I could find, and it happened here."

"Honestly, I don't know. I didn't do it if that's what you're asking. Where did it happen?"

"I can't know for sure," he told her, "but Cyrus told me he woke up in the glade."

Elizabeth nodded. He did not have to specify what glade. Everyone in the Griseo Mountains called that area "the glade," the location where the first battle in the short war had taken place. He'd lost his eye there, and many people had lost their lives. It was a graveyard for both sides.

"Do you think he could've come upon someone doing something they shouldn't be doing?" she asked carefully.

"Necromancy," he stated blatantly. It was a rare gift, exceedingly rare, and one they did not talk about. In general, some people looked unfavorably at mages, and they didn't know about necromancers. They were an anomaly, a well-kept secret. There could be uncomfortable questions if it was found out that some mages dug up bodies and used them in their arts.

"There are many bodies buried there, and they are soaked in blood and anger. Potentially, the bones could be quite powerful."

Elizabeth grimaced. "It's distasteful and makes my skin crawl, but I suppose, yes." Shaking her head, she continued, "Imagine someone digging up a body, then the emperor's nephew stumbles upon them. Of course, they wiped his mind. He's lucky they didn't kill him."

"Well, we don't know for certain, but that's a possibility."

"You know where necromancers usually come from."

Greyson pinched the bridge of his nose. "Davies."

"Yep."

The Davies family had given birth to most of the known necromancers. They lived on the icy coast on the other side of the Griseo Mountain range. The head of the family, Charles Davies, and Greyson had an interesting relationship. They had almost come to blows over a misunderstanding.

"I'm sure he's forgiven me," Greyson reasoned. "It's been five years."

"He thought you were trying to seduce his daughter. I don't think five years is enough."

"It was a misunderstanding. She asked for me to demonstrate a spell, to which I agreed, and then I tried to show her. When Charles passed by, I happened to be standing quite close behind her. She and I both explained nothing happened, but he refused to listen. I mean, Julia was only seventeen at the time, a child, and we were planning a rebellion. I would have never even thought about it. I wouldn't even contemplate it now. It's ridiculous."

"It didn't seem to matter to Charles," Elizabeth remarked. "But you shouldn't completely discount Julia. She is beautiful, talented, and extremely kind."

Greyson shrugged. He had very little interest in romance. It had never been a factor in his life. When he would've started courting, his parents and sister died and his entire world became taking his mother's place, teaching others to wield magic and making potions as well as poultices. He dabbled a little in romance, but he'd never really cared. Now, he had no interest in upsetting his life for the slight chance of falling in love.

Unwillingly, his gaze shifted to Cyrus. Already Greyson's life had been upended; he didn't need anyone else screwing it up. All of sudden, Cyrus stopped playing and met his gaze. Cyrus grinned and started to head in their direction.

"Don't say anything to him. I haven't told Cyrus anything," he said quickly.

She raised her eyebrows but didn't respond.

Cyrus jiggled his left arm. "Did you want to play?"

"No."

Expression falling, Cyrus asked, "What are you two talking about?"

"I was simply asking Elizabeth if she had any idea who erased your memories."

"Any idea?" Cyrus asked her.

"No, unfortunately not. I suggest you ask Charles Davies," she offered, smirking.

"Who?" Cyrus asked.

"Oh, no one," she said in a sing-song voice, twirling a curl around her finger. "Greyson just had a little encounter with his daughter, Julia."

"What?" Cyrus' eyebrows scrunched together.

"Nothing happened. She's basically a child."

"Twenty-two is not a child. She's only five years younger than you," Elizabeth said.

"Whatever," Greyson said with a wave. It hardly mattered. They were friends and nothing else. "Besides, I think she got married."

"I have no idea. But are you going to travel all the way there?"

It would be a long journey, and winter had started to settle on the mountains. They could travel to several different villages on the way and see if anyone knew anything. Also, the coast was lovely—the low roar of the sea, the icy water, and the rocky beaches, and he hadn't been there in a couple of years.

"I don't know," Greyson said. "I would need to stock up on supplies, and it would take quite some time to travel there." Winter was fast approaching, which meant storms, snow, and freezing temperatures.

"I'm going with you, right?" Cyrus asked, gripping his arm. Elizabeth gaped at Cyrus' hand on his arm, eyes wide.

"Of course. I would never leave you behind." Greyson could hardly leave Cyrus to wreak havoc in his absence. Cyrus grinned, squeezing his arm.

Elizabeth smirked. "I should go. I have things to do." She raised her eyebrows at Greyson before strolling in the direction of her home.

"Are we going to leave today?" Cyrus asked, biting his lip.

Greyson froze, gaze latching on Cyrus' perfect white teeth sinking into his plump lip. An odd heat flooded his body as he went stock-still, every thought leaving his mind while he stared at Cyrus.

Cyrus shook his arm and asked again, "Are we leaving today, Greyson?"

Blinking, he cleared his throat. "No. It's too late now. We'll head home in the morning."

"What should we do?"

"Why don't you meet more people while I'll buy supplies?"

With pursed lips, Cyrus looked at the ground and said as he walked away, "Okay."

Part of Greyson wanted to follow him, in case someone said something that would end this charade. Though, he couldn't help but wonder if the truth coming out would be best. Of course, Greyson could accomplish that by taking Cyrus to Lord Darius in Woodhurst.

Instead, Greyson wandered around the village, gathering the necessary items for the short trip home. People stopped him multiple times to request potions or ask him to demonstrate certain spells.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of questions and faces. It wasn't until late afternoon, not long before sunset, that Greyson saw Cyrus again, chatting with the same pack of teenagers. Greyson stopped near them, watching Cyrus as he motioned dramatically with his arms. Unable to stop it, a smile tugged on his lips.

Elizabeth came to his left side and asked, "Is there anything going on between you and Cyrus?"

"Like what?" he asked with a scoff.

"I don't know. He seems protective."

"I'm the only person he knows. Of course, he's protective," Greyson said. Cyrus and the teenagers spoke in low voices, gesturing to a three-story building that was under construction. Cyrus smirked, then grasped a plank and started climbing. Sighing, Greyson toward the structure.

"Really, Cyrus?" he asked.

Cyrus smiled but kept climbing until he reached the top. "I win," he told the teenagers, who cheered. Apparently, Cyrus was a child at heart. Cyrus lifted his leg over a beam, so he could climb down, and slipped.

Greyson acted without thought, flicking his staff in a sharp, jerking motion. Magic caught Cyrus by the ankle. The magic rebelled against his control as Greyson had only cast half a spell. It writhed, struggling against his iron hold. With a groan, Greyson tried to lower Cyrus to the ground. Cyrus hung in the air, his mouth open and arms stretched. Greyson's muscles tensed, and his teeth clenched together as he held Cyrus, struggling to fight back the rest of the spell.

The spell he used was to grab and then fling someone, but he did not want to fling Cyrus. If he'd thought about it, he would have used something different.

It was too late now.

Elizabeth raced forward. Her green ring grew bright as her magic hooked onto Cyrus, holding him. Another man moved under Cyrus with a large rock in his grasp. He glanced between Greyson and Elizabeth, then asked, "Ready?"

"Ready," she said.

Greyson nodded, unable to speak. The third mage said, "On my count." After they both nodded, he began to count. "One. Two. Three!"

On three, the third mage threw the stone toward Cyrus as Elizabeth yanked on him. Greyson relaxed the magic just enough, so it let go of Cyrus and enclosed around the rock. The second Cyrus was free, he flung the rock toward the forest. It smacked into a tree, which splintered, sending chunks of bark and wood into the air, and broke in half with a deafening crack.

He sank to his knees, breathing hard. His muscles ached and everything hurt. The only reason a mage would hold back a spell was to charge it, pouring more magic into it, but it cost the mage more energy.

Greyson swallowed, falling onto his backside and staff landing on the ground. His body vibrated with excess energy as black spots flashed before his eyes. He wanted to scold himself. Greyson had let himself get out of practice. In the past, this wouldn't have been enough to knock him out. He didn't fight the darkness edging his vision or the buzzing noise in his ears.

"Greyson!"

The pounding of feet sounded and someone grabbed him. Greyson opened his eyes and saw Cyrus who wore a familiar expression. One Greyson recognized all too well. Cyrus' eyebrows had squished together while his mouth curled down in a harsh frown.

Greyson touched Cyrus' face. "There you are."

"Greyson?"

Darkness consumed him.

Greyson lay in front of the fireplace, unconscious. Cyrus kneeled beside him, stomach churning. When Greyson fell, two men carried him into Elizabeth's house while Cyrus picked up Greyson's staff. The twisted wood was still in his grasp. Power thrummed through his fingers, like an itch he couldn't scratch, uncomfortable, though, at the same time, it felt oddly familiar, almost like Greyson.

"What's wrong with him?"

"He only did half the spell, catching you, and did not fling you. Once a spell is cast, you have to complete it, which is why I grabbed you and Franklin threw the rock as a substitute."

He brushed Greyson's soft black hair. "He'll be okay, though, right?"

"Yes," she answered, following the movement of his hand. "He just needs to sleep it off."

"Thank the goddess," Cyrus whispered, head coming down to rest against Greyson.

"You'll want to be careful with his staff."

"Why?" he asked, straightening.

"His staff. If it breaks, Greyson won't be able to use magic. Once a mage bonds to an artifact, they can't join with another one or use magic without it."

He squeezed the black staff in his grasp, power vibrating up his arm. This was the source of Greyson's power, or at least, how he used magic. He maneuvered the staff, so it was right next to Greyson. Cyrus would keep it safe for him. All the while, Elizabeth watched him with a curious expression.

"How did he come by it?"

She shook her head. "You really don't remember?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were there when Greyson got it. The staff is ancient and was in the emperor's vault. On the first meeting he had with the emperor, the staff flew out of the treasury, through the palace, and landed on the floor next to him."

Cyrus asked, "That's unique, right?"

"Yes," she said. "Old artifacts pick who they want to bond with. They're rare and powerful."

Smiling, he stroked Greyson's hair. Cyrus knew Greyson was special, but now, he knew he wasn't alone in that regard.

"Well," she said, "I will leave him in your capable hands."

After Elizabeth exited the house, he snagged one of the blankets he'd used last night and draped it over Greyson. Settling next to Greyson, Cyrus placed an arm around his waist.

He couldn't know this for certain, but Cyrus didn't think he'd ever been more frightened than when he saw Greyson fall to the ground. Not even slipping off the half-built building could compare. Even recalling it made his mouth dry and his pulse throb.

Stroking Greyson's cheek, Cyrus said, "You better not do this again."

Head snuggled on Greyson's shoulder, Cyrus waited for him to wake up.