Chapter 14

Without a word, the God of Fire and Metal was gone, and I was back in Cyrus' bedroom. There was no fire, no charred furniture or smoke-filled rafters. It was as it had been before, except for the amber light that bathed the entire room. It took me a moment to realize that the illumination came from the crown on my head.

"Stahkla has accepted you."

Manod stared at me, his hands by his sides and his eyes wide.

"He did."

"My Lord." Manod went down on one knee, his movement unsteady from old age. I reached out to stop him.

"Get up, Manod. I am no more a Lord than I was a moment ago, no matter what the crown might signify. I've been in the city all of three days. Please stand."

Manod was uncertain for a moment, then pushed himself up to standing. "What is your command, Lord?"

"Cyrus. Is he alive? Is he hurt?"

Manod moved to Cyrus' bedside and I followed. My husband was still. Whatever tremors racked his body before had calmed.

"My healing put him into stasis, and his body has stopped fighting it. The artifact ceased draining him when you bonded with it. I can remove the magic keeping him like this, but whether he has the energy he needs to recover, I do not know."

I let out a shaky breath. Had this all been for nothing? But I had sworn myself in service to the people of Fyr, and I would not break another oath. Even if Cyrus didn't…no, I didn't want to think of it. Fear and grief sprang up in me, but I pushed them away. This wasn't the time.

Manod pressed his hand to Cyrus' forehead, and his body released. It was subtle, but there was a ripple as the muscle and tissue relaxed. I willed his chest to move.

After a minute or more, it finally did. A strangled sound burst from Manod, but he quickly tamped down his display of emotion. He picked up Cyrus' wrist, feeling for a pulse.

"He is alive, but I do not know how long it will be before he wakes. He has to rebuild the vitality that he lost. He was on the edge of death."

Manod gazed down at Cyrus' face. It was so peaceful now, and his lips called to me. If Manod had not been there, I would have kissed him. I desperately wanted to feel the warmth in him, to let him know that I was there with him, to assure myself he was still alive.

"Will he survive?" I asked, hating the question.

"I don't know." Manod's face was a contradiction of hope and fear. "He is young and strong, but his connection with the artifact was powerful. He used it often. It's hard to say what the severing cost him."

"If he…when he wakes, will he still be Lord of Ashfuror?"

Manod's lips tightened. "As of this moment, he is not a Lord of Fyr. Your bond with the crown means that Stahkla has chosen you to be Lord of Ashfuror."

I shook my head. "The people here don't even know who I am."

"If he wishes to rule by your side, there are…other possibilities."

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"His father conquered the other Lords, and he kept their crowns. They are locked away in the vault. Cyrus could decide to bind with another, if Stahkla would have him. And if he chose to do so."

"You think he might not?"

"The cost of wearing the crown is high. It grows more so the more often you use it. And Cyrus may no longer wish to rule. He was made Lord of Ashfuror as a teenager. I don't know..."

I glanced down on my husband, conjuring an image of his body and his spirit knitting themselves back together, willing it into existence. "He deserves a rest."

"He does. I don't know what his choice will be. He cares deeply for his people." Manod stepped away from the bed. "It doesn't matter right now. He has a long recovery before him. You should come. You need food. I will prepare you for your role as Lord."

I shook my head. "Have them bring dinner here. I'm staying with him."

"Lord, you now sit in a seat of power. You have responsibilities—"

"They will hold for a day or two. You have my blessing to deal with any small crises that arise."

Manod opened his mouth to argue, then shut it. He closed his eyes, taking in a breath and letting it out. When he opened them, his face had softened. "Very well. I can buy you forty-eight hours before people start to question you and Cyrus' absence."

Manod left the room, and I pulled up the desk chair. I took Cyrus' hand, visualizing my own life energy passing into him. If that had been the price, I would have paid it gladly. Instead, though, I was left with the crown and the rule of Fyr. I pushed the thought out of my head. Right now, my duty was to Cyrus. I needed to focus on him. If I embroiled myself in the day-to-day doings of the government, all of my time would be stolen away by that.

So I sat by him, holding his hand and hoping. I had hoped Cyrus might wake again in an hour, or a day, but I was quickly disabused of that notion. After twenty-four hours, there was no discernible change. Manod assured me that it was a good sign that hadn't gotten worse, and I clung to that hope tightly.

The hours ran into each other, and with nothing to focus on, my brain went to thoughts of Greatfalls and of Grandmother. Had she known Cyrus would die? Despite my wish to trust her, to think that this was all accidental, I couldn't be na?ve. She had allowed my brother to raid and kill with impunity. Who knew what other crimes he had committed? I doubted she had even tried to guide him away from it.

If I was to believe Manod, she'd sent my parents to murder Cyrus in cold blood. To assassinate a child. It was unfathomable to me. No matter what she thought the benefits were, I couldn't wrap my head around it.

The more the hours passed, the more my mind focused on her. Was she truly so different from the person I thought I knew? In some ways, it was easier to accept that my parents were heartless assassins. I had almost no memories of them. But my grandmother had raised me. She was kind and she cared about her people. She loved me.

Toward the end of day two, Manod stopped by once again. His pace was slow and his face, haggard. He once again put his palm on Cyrus' forehead.

"No sign of change?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "What's happened? You look as though you haven't slept."

"That's because I haven't." He lifted his hand from Cyrus and a tiny tremor ran through it. "The drought had already brought everything to a breaking point before now, and Cyrus had been working non-stop to hold it all together. With him incapacitated…I can only stand in for him for so long before people begin to question, and I don't have his stamina. Truth be told, his pace was unsustainable. We need a solution. There is talk of rebellion in some of the worst hit areas. For now, it's only talk, but…"

He fell silent, lost in his own thoughts. My own mind was racing. I was now Lord of Ashfuror, and I was a member of the Prime family of Greatfalls. The lies and deceit could be left in the past if we could forge a peace under our one family. And as a token of that peace, Grandmother could let the water flow. Not enough to endanger the city, but surely there was enough available to alleviate some of the suffering.

The solution was in Greatfalls, and I had to go there.

Cyrus moaned in his sleep. He didn't wake up or open his eyes, but he made a sound and squeezed my hand. Manod's eyebrows shot up at the sound.

"He is healing, I think." Some of the tension released in his forehead. "It may take some time, but he is on the path to recovery."

I nodded, staring at my husband. I wished he could speak, that he could tell me what to do at this moment. Who knew how long it would be before that would be possible? What if he never fully recovered?

"Where is Jelenna?" I asked. "She hasn't come to see me."

He hesitated for a moment, staring down at the floor. After a few seconds, he answered. "She's gone."

"What?"

"She's been gone since the night…since Cyrus was injured. I thought you knew."

I shook my head. Had she abandoned me? She was my best friend. Did she think I would be killed for my actions?

Manod put his hand on my shoulder, and I could feel the warmth and compassion radiating from it. I wasn't all that good at keeping my inner turmoil hidden.

"I have to go," I said.

Manod squeezed my shoulder and stepped back. "Yes, I think so."

"I want to wait for him to wake up. But the nation has to come first, and I need to see my grandmother. I think there's a possibility we could build something…and also I need to see her."

"She's your family."

"The only family I have left, other than my brother. She has always done right by me. I want to give her a chance…to explain herself, maybe? But if not, to show her good faith. To cement the peace and share her resources."

Manod stared off into the middle distance. "You know that that is unlikely."

"I don't know that." My voice hardened. "I'm her grandson, and she's no monster. I won't ask for more than she can give."

"And if she refuses?"

I pressed my lips together for a long moment before answering. "Then I will find another way."

"Very well." Manod moved toward the door, opening it and gesturing out into the hallway. "Come with me."

I followed as he strode into a wing of the building I had not been in yet. Manod opened a door with a heavy lock, and brought me into what had to be an armory of some kind. It was filled with plate armor and chainmail hanging off of wooden racks.

"I'm from Greatfalls. We don't wear metal armor."

"We're not here for the armor." He opened an armoire, and inside were a series of black, hooded cloaks. He glanced at me, sizing me up.

"You will need the crown for your journey back, and for whatever lies waiting for you in your old home. Don't take it off. It cannot be separated from you if you have it on your head." He pulled a cloak out and tossed it to me. "But most citizens of Fyr know what it means to wear the crown. It's better that you keep it hidden. Keep your hood up."

I folded the cloak over my arm. "I won't be staying in any towns. I don't think I can make it in one go, but Blaze can manage it in two days. I'll stay off the road."

Manod moved on to another area. He tugged at a long wooden pole, pulling it off the wall. A black banner with no embellishment hung off the end. He held it out to me.

"What is this?"

"Take it."

I reached out, and as the metal of the pole touched my hand, a fiery symbol sprang to life, glowing orange against the black background.

"What—"

"It recognizes you." Manod smiled up at the striking emblem, a variation on the flame motifs I'd seen in the chapel and on the priest's robes during the wedding. "It is a symbol for anyone you meet. This banner shows you have the favor of Stahkla. People will stay out of your way. It will stop most bandits, and even wild animals will be put off by it."

There was something comforting about the banner. It was worse for the wear, tattered at the ends, but it shone brightly with the symbol of Cyrus' rule.

Of my rule, now.

"I'll leave first thing in the morning. Tell the stablehands to saddle up Blaze."

Manod said nothing in response, worry radiating from him. Finally, he spoke.

"I don't know what you will find in Greatfalls. If you fall, there will be no one left to lead in Ashfuror."

Would it really go that poorly? Would my own family attack me? I couldn't imagine.

"Can you communicate with me?" I asked softly. "Can you send a message if Cyrus wakes up? When he wakes up?"

"You can use the power of the crown, although you might not have the time on your journey. It will take some hours to get a handle on its magic." Manod closed his eyes as he thought for a moment. "If Cyrus wakes up, I will have him send his ravens to you. His connection with Bertio goes beyond the magic of the artifact."

"Thank you." Handing the banner back to Manod to have it sent to the stables, I started back to Cyrus' bedroom. Our bedroom. Even if he would not wake, I wanted to spend my last night in Ashfuror next to my husband.