Chapter 12

Cyrus' scream shook me to my core. It was the desperate cry of a creature in agony, and it made my heart break to think I'd been the cause of that pain, even momentarily. I set the now-dark circlet down and went to his side.

He lay there, eyes open, staring up at the empty air as if he could see something I couldn't.

"Cyrus? What's happening?"

"I didn't know it would hurt this much." He didn't look at me, his eyes still glued to the ceiling. I put my hand to his forehead. It was hot to the touch.

"Cyrus..."

"I had wondered if you would do it. You love your home city so much."

"It wasn't only for Greatfalls. Now you won't have that thing draining your life away."

"Sweet Skye." He grabbed my hand, squeezing, but never turned his head to me. Could he see anything at all? "I'm sorry. I should have warned you, but Stahkla stopped me. The god wanted this to be some kind of test or…I don't know..."

"Cyrus—"

He coughed, deep and raw, and tremors wracked his body. Despair filled me as I watched the consequences of what I'd done.

"No time, Skye. Go get Manod."

"But—"

"Please. I'm dying."

His words were a knife to the gut. Had Grandmother lied to me? There wasn't time to consider it. I took off at a sprint down the hall. Manod's quarters were two floors below us. My bare feet slapped against the cold stone as I ran.

When I reached the stairwell to go down to him, he emerged from the doorway. His eyes bored into me.

"I felt it. Come on."

He stalked down the hallway at a speed belying his old age.

"Is he really dying?" I asked.

"Yes." Manod sighed. "I told him this would happen. He had hoped you wouldn't make this choice. Or at least that you would talk to him first."

"How did he know?"

"The Crown of Seeing. The future isn't fixed, but the artifact can show the possible outcomes. This was the one it always came back to."

"But—"

Manod shook his head sharply as he reached for the doorknob. He went to Cyrus' side, while I stood back, helpless and guilty. And angry.

"Are you ready, my lord?" Manod raised his hands over Cyrus' head.

"Wait. Give me a moment with Skye."

Manod stepped back and turned to me. His eyes were dark, and his voice was tight with anger. "Hurry. You're out of time."

I stepped up to Cyrus, and he reached out for me, although his sight was still transfixed forward. I kneeled beside the bed.

"I'm so sorry. I..." The words stuck in my throat.

"Shh. I know." He grasped my upper arm, but his grip felt weak to me. "Kiss me."

I couldn't deny him. I leaned over and pressed my lips to his, and I couldn't hold back my tears. They fell from my eyes onto his cheeks, running down until we tasted salt in the kiss.

Cyrus broke it off. "That's enough. No more tears. I need you to do what Manod says."

"But I—"

Cyrus shook, moaning low. Manod pushed me out of the way. Placing both palms on Cyrus' forehead, he poured bright white light from his hands. Cyrus' face was bathed in it, and after a moment the tremors subsided. He went completely still.

I was scared to speak. I was stuck, unable to help and overwhelmed with the knowledge that this had been my fault. That I had misread the situation, that my judgment was fundamentally flawed. Still, I had to understand what was happening.

"Is he dead?" My voice cracked as I forced the words from my lips.

"No." Manod removed his hands. "I've bought him some time. Not a lot, not more than an hour. That will have to be enough."

"What do we do?"

"Not we. It's what you must do."

I shook my head. Guilt, confusion, and anger warred inside me. I didn't think I would ever feel settled again.

"We worried that your grandmother might push you into doing something like this. I had hoped that once the wedding ritual was complete, the soul bond might give you pause, might make you reconsider any plans of betrayal."

There was an undertone of raw anger in Manod's voice. I wanted to explain myself, to make him understand. "My grandmother—"

"Stop!" He breathed in, calming himself. "It doesn't matter, not now. The crown stays with the bearer until he dies. Then it lies dormant until it is given to the next. Once the connection has been secured between them, the bearer cannot live without the artifact."

The taste of acid hit my mouth as my stomach churned. "There's no way to save him?"

"You are his husband." Manod turned his back on me as if he couldn't bear to see my face. He paced around the room, lighting candles, illuminating the dark chamber. "Not only did you establish the marriage bond, you were recognized by the fire. There is a connection between you and Cyrus that is unique. Your grandmother's artifact ensured that Cyrus cannot re-establish his connection with the crown again, that's part of its dangerous magic."

Manod turned, the light of the candles flickering yellow on his face. He glared at me as if daring me to contradict him. I said nothing.

"You can."

"What?"

"You can become the Crown of Seeing's next bearer. It will recognize the bond of marriage you share, and the connection can be preserved through that."

"So if I—"

"If you put on the crown, and it accepts you, then he will not die."

Why would it accept me, after what I had done? "And if it doesn't?"

"You'll both be dead."

I ran my hand through my hair. Exhaustion and guilt threatened to overtake me. This was too much. Knowledge of what was right and what was wrong was obscured from my sight. All that was left was confusion.

"It is your grandmother's fault," Manod accused. "If she had told you the truth—"

"Grandmother doesn't lie!" My reaction was automatic and instinctive. It was ingrained in me, but even as the words left my mouth, I was already doubting them. A growing grief gnawed at me. I had been so certain that she would not mislead her own grandson.

Manod sighed. "Sit down, Skye." He gestured to the nearby wooden chair.

I sat, and even that amount of physical relaxation made me aware of how my whole system was on a knife's edge. What Manod was about to say might make me or break me.

"I was advisor to the Lord of Ashfuror when your parents died."

My whole body tensed. "You knew them."

"I did."

"You were there when they were killed by Cyrus' father."

Manod barked out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Is that what you were told? That they were murdered in cold blood?"

I nodded. It was a story I'd heard over and over again, from Grandmother, from everyone in Greatfalls. "They were ambassadors. They were slaughtered in the middle of the night."

"Of course that's what they told you." Manod's face softened. "Well, I was there, and I know the truth."

My vision blurred around the edges. This was the fundamental fact of my childhood from the age of six. My parents had been murdered by the Dark Lord of Ashfuror. It was foundational. Questioning it would jeopardize my whole sense of my own history.

But I had to know. I gestured for him to continue, steeling myself.

"They were here as diplomats. Although Ashfuror and Greatfalls have been at odds for centuries, there were moments here and there when the tensions eased. This was one of those times. There were some indications that perhaps we could forge a lasting peace. We hosted a banquet in their honor. They talked prettily about the possibility of alliance, of sharing resources and greater peace in Fyr."

He sank down on the edge of the bed.

"But the second night they were here, I was alone in my quarters when Stahkla sent me a flash of insight. He doesn't often communicate in that way. He prefers to use his artifacts, but this was important. It wasn't much, nothing visual or even words. Just an overwhelming sense that Cyrus was in danger."

His face showed his discomfort at calling up the memory. His voice shook, but he pushed through.

"I found your mother with a knife to Cyrus' throat. She was about to murder a ten-year-old child."

I stepped back unconsciously, my back slamming against the desk behind me. The desk hit the wall with a bang. It hurt, but the pain didn't break through the swirl of thoughts in my mind. The sense that Manod was telling the truth, that he was sharing a deeply painful event from his past, was at war with my belief that my parents would never have done such a thing. I may only have a few memories of them, flashes of comfort and love, but I couldn't believe that my mother would attack a young boy.

I didn't say anything. What was there to say? Manod continued.

"I managed to fight her off and get Cyrus behind me, although only because I caught her by surprise. She was a fierce fighter. I held her back until the guard arrived. She wouldn't surrender. They had to..."

Manod stopped. Even as upset as he was, he wouldn't describe my own mother's death to me.

"Cyrus was safe, but that was overshadowed by the arrival of horrible news. The Lord of Ashfuror was dead. Your father had attacked in the night. He'd fought back. The clash had ended in both of their deaths."

He flexed and unflexed his fingers, trying to purge the recollection from his mind.

"I could understand the attack on Oswyn. It seemed foolish to throw away the chance at peace, but he could be a harsh and ambitious Lord, and there have always been tensions between Ashfuror and Greatfalls. But I couldn't forgive them for going after a child."

This couldn't be possible. If this was true, then everything I knew about myself, my family, my home...it was all a lie.

"How can I believe you?" My voice came out in a ragged whisper.

"Ask yourself what is more likely to be true. That all of this is an elaborate staged hoax? That Cyrus' affection for you isn't real, that your marriage isn't real, that we've somehow staged all this. Isn't it more likely that your grandmother sent your parents here to topple the Lord of Ashfuror's reign? The same as she sent you."

I couldn't deny the old priest's words. After all, Grandmother had lied to my face, no matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise. She had made me believe that Cyrus would live, that being separated from the crown would prolong his life. She had kept the existence of the treaty from me.

But Cyrus and Manod had also lied, or at least omitted vital information. They misled me about the timing of the wedding. They'd left me in the dark about the nature of the crown. They could have been truthful, no matter what the God of Fire and Metal wanted, so that Cyrus' life wouldn't be in danger.

Instead I was left weighing the piles of deception against one another. I was mired deep, and tired of being a tool of ancient ruling families and the gods themselves.

A pained moan came from Cyrus' still body. His face was even paler than before.

"I thought we had time," I said, turning to the priest for answers.

"I can only hold it off for so long." A maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirled on Manod's face. "You have to decide. There is danger, but...it's the only chance he has."

My new husband lay before me. His lips were speckled with blood, and his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. The gravity of it settled on me like a great weight on my shoulders. No matter what lies had been told to me, I had been the one to do this. If there was no one left for me to trust, I could trust in myself, in my own integrity, my own sense of responsibility. This was my fault, and it was my job to fix it. There was only one answer.

"I'll do it."

Wasting no time, Manod sprung up and took the obsidian circlet in his hands.

"Once this is set atop your head, you will come face to face with Stahkla. Only he can bind you to the Crown of Seeing. You must convince the god of your worthiness."

I nodded. There was a decent chance this would end in my death, but that was the risk I had to take to right my wrong. At least I'd die with my honor intact.

Manod lifted the artifact above my head and chanted in a low voice. "This one offers himself to your service, God of Fire and Metal. May you accept his sacrifice for the good of all Fyr."

Manod brought his hands down, and the Crown of Seeing settled on my brow, heavy and cold. For a moment all was quiet, as if time itself had been suspended.

Then the room was ablaze.