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“Cyrus—”
But he pushed through the door and closed it behind him. The room was as he remembered. Everything neat and tidy, waiting for a guest to stay. The only thing that seemed amiss was the decanter of alcohol on the end table. He’d never actually stayed in here. They’d always stayed in Cass’s rooms. One on the bed. The other on the sofa.
He sighed again, raking a hand through his hair as he tossed a flame into the empty hearth. He’d add some logs later. Right now, he just wanted his magic to burn.
Moving through the bedchamber, he went straight to the bathing room, kicking the door shut and dragging his soiled tunic over his head. He started filling the tub, moving aimlessly around the room as he waited.
Until he caught sight of himself in the mirror.
Exhausted and haunted didn’t even begin to cover it.
His normally bright amber eyes were muted and dull. Dead. His chestnut hair was disheveled, his skin sallow. He hadn’t been gone long enough for the lack of sustenance to really affect him, but his magic being inaccessible, accompanied by the Sorceress’s constant meddling…that had definitely taken a toll.
Three days.
Three godsdamn days to undo decades of healing. Or at least decades of learning to live with the memories.
His fist slammed into the glass, shards flying everywhere. He felt the sting as a few grazed his bare flesh— arms, chest, across his brow. But no one came to see what the commotion was. Because he was alone. As he was always meant to be.
Cyrus moved to the tub, not caring if he stepped on broken glass or not, kicking off his pants as he went. His magic heated the water to near scalding, and the new abrasions stung even more as he sank into the blessed warmth. He quickly washed—twice—before changing out the water, and then he sat, his head tipped back against the lip of the tub and his eyes fell closed. His magic was already working to heal the cuts from the glass, but the marks around his wrists and ankles from the shirastone were slowing down the process.
He lost track of how long he sat there, trying to shove all the trauma and damage back down to the depths of his being where he’d kept it locked away for years. But it refused to go back now that Gehenna had let those demons free.
Eliza. He’d find Eliza tomorrow and spar with her. She’d let him work out all this aggression and darkness. She wouldn’t go easy on him out of pity, or think he needed to take it easy for a few days. She’d let him work himself into a state of exhaustion so he wouldn’t be able to feel any of it for a while.
And if that didn’t work, he’d find some mugweed and a new decanter full of alcohol since someone drank all his.
Finally dragging himself from the tub when he didn’t think he’d be able to go another minute without food, he quickly dried himself off before remembering all his clothing was in Cassius’s rooms.
Fuck it.Surely there was something in the various dressers and armoires of this guest suite that would fit him, even if it was just a pair of pants. He’d get his clothes after he’d slept.
He tossed the towel into the corner with the dirty clothing. Making an effort to avoid the shattered glass he’d worry about cleaning up tomorrow, he opened the bathing room door and moved to the bedchamber, pausing when he found his own tunic and pants lying on the bed. Not caring who had brought them in, he shoved his legs into the pants. Clean clothing. He’d nearly forgotten what a luxury such a thing was. He was reaching for his tunic when someone spoke.
“You have a new Mark on your arm.”
Cyrus paused, the tunic halfway over his head, before he quickly pulled it on the rest of the way. “A new Mark on my arm and a thousand new marks on my soul,” he muttered, not intending to say it aloud but too apathetic to care at this point.
“What kind of Mark is it?” Cassius asked.
Cyrus turned to find him sprawled in a chair before the bedchamber hearth, black flames crackling in it. His forefinger was steepled along his temple, and his eyes were glowing amber-red as he studied Cyrus.
But before Cyrus could think of something to say, Scarlett came through the bedchamber door, Rayner behind her carrying a tray piled high with food. Cyrus was swiping a piece of cold roast beef and cheese cubes before Rayner even set the tray down on a side table.
“Where’s Eliza?” Cyrus asked around a mouthful of food.
“The continent,” Rayner answered, his keen eyes watching him as carefully as Cassius was.
“What the fuck is she doing over there?”
“There is a lot to fill you in on, Cyrus,” Scarlett said. “But it does not need to be done tonight.”
“Who else is there with her?”
“Cyrus—” she started, but Cassius cut her off.
“Sawyer and Ashtine. Ashtine cannot leave the continent. They stayed to guard her. They’re in Siofra with the Shifters,” Cassius answered.
“And you gave him Talwyn?” Cyrus went on, swiping an entire loaf of bread and taking a bite. “You know he plans to release the Sorceress.”
