Page 24 of The Last of the Dark Lords

“He’s a military commander.” That voice came from right next to me. I knew it well. Jelenna. “You can’t drag him away from the battle.”

“He almost died.”

“But he didn’t. That’s good enough.” Jelenna’s voice was close. A physical sensation cut through my grogginess. She was squeezing my hand. I forced my eyes open.

As my vision coalesced, it revealed a simple but clean wooden building. I was laying on a thin straw mattress, and Jelenna sat next to me. Cyrus and Manod stood at the foot of the bed.

“I don’t intend to lose him.” Cyrus’ was insistent and desperate.

“Then get him to be less stubborn and—”

“Hello?” My airway was on fire as my breath squeezed through, ground glass in my throat. My side ached.

Cyrus turned to me. His face was haggard, and he was even paler than usual. His hand clenched the wooden footboard of the bed. His knuckles were white.

“Skye?” Jelenna asked in a casual tone that was definitely forced. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm sore. Woozy. What happened?”

“You took an arrow to the side, and you wouldn’t let me heal you, foolish boy.” He might have been trying to take me to task, but I liked this grumpy side of the normally kind priest.

“I…” In a flash, it all came flooding back. The pain. Cyrus and the crown. The words of the attackers. I tried to push myself into a sitting position, but my elbows wobbled underneath me.

“Don’t, Skye. I’ve got you.” Jelenna put an arm around my waist and pulled me up. She positioned the pillows against the headboard to support me.

“Thank you.” I made eye contact with Cyrus, who was staring down at me with wild eyes, like I was a live rattlesnake. “I heard what they said.”

“It was a lie, it had to be.” There was fire in Jelenna’s voice. “No one could take out a company of Archers without Skye or myself finding out.”

“Truly?” Exhaustion had taken whatever was left of Manod’s typical politeness. “You would actually accuse us of—”

“You concocted some kind of story with them—”

“Stop. The two of you need to go.” It still hurt to speak, but I forced the sound out. This felt important.

Jelenna made a face like she’d swallowed a fly. “I’m not going anywhere—”

“I want to speak to Cyrus alone.”

Cyrus’ expression clouded with confusion. He glanced at Jelenna, and then Manod. The uncertainty was in deep contrast to the wry persona he cultivated. I liked seeing him thrown off guard.

“Now.”

Manod rolled his eyes and stalked away. Jelenna squinted at me.

“I’ll be right outside.”

“I’m fine, Jel.” She walked toward the exit, eyeing Cyrus as she went.

When she closed the door behind her, Cyrus and I considered each other in silence. I gestured toward the chair next to me. He sat down, setting his face in a blank, still mask.

“They were attacked by my Archers.”

Cyrus nodded and touched the circlet on his head with his right hand. It was no longer a fiery crown, but once again a simple black band. The gesture seemed unconscious. Maybe it grounded him.

“Yes,” Cyrus replied. “The crown of Ashfuror is the Crown of Seeing. With it, I can observe places far away, and sometimes it will even show me the future, if the outcome is certain enough.” Cyrus sighed. “I can also tell if someone is lying.”

I closed my eyes. “I knew it was true when I heard him say it.”

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