Page 103 of Dueling the Suitors

Cyrus looked like he wanted to snort. “In what sense, may I ask?”

“I’m the bastard son of the former king, and with no one else in the line alive, the throne belongs to me.”

Cyrus stared at him in shock. Whether it was the fact that Rowan was the illegitimate heir or that no one else in the line was alive that shook him, Astoria couldn’t tell.

“You killed them, didn’t you?”

“And I spread the rumor in the unconquered kingdoms thatyoukilled them to take over the throne, yes,” Rowan admitted without an ounce of hesitance. “What? You thought they were still out there somewhere, living in a small cottage and leading a poor life? Oh, I killed them the moment I got them away.”

Cyrus tore a hand through his hair. He seemed to have a harder time than Astoria accepting the true Rowan. When helooked at Rowan again, his eyes were firm as well as slightly vulnerable.

“Rowan, this isn’t you.”

“You know nothing about me, Cyrus,” Rowan snapped. “I am the monster this continent has known under the rumors I spread aboutyou,and you are just about to get a taste of my true self if you delay your surrender any longer.”

“You will not hurt her, Rowan. I know you care for her.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rowan pressed the blade harder against Astoria’s throat.

She gasped sharply, and Cyrus thundered, “Rowan!”

“Do you still refuse to believe the Rowan you knew wasn’t merely a mask?” Rowan’s voice dripped with smugness.

Cyrus’ eyes were a fiery furnace.

“Surrender, keep your wife, strike a magical deal with me over the throne, and make your life somewhere else. Or keep your empire, keep protecting your long-lost mother and sister whom youthinkare still out there, and lose your preciousAstrain the process. Your choice.”

“Cyrus,” Astoria choked, dragging his glaring eyes to her. They softened and pained amid the ablaze. “Don’t you dare surrender! Don’t you—” she yelped as Rowan’s knife dug into her skin.

“Take my throne!” Cyrus yelled, stomping forward, his eyes wild as they glanced from her throat to Rowan. “Claim my empire! Do whatever you wish! But if you hurt her…” He paused, letting the weight seep into his words, “You are as good as dead.”

“Kneel.”

Cyrus froze. So did the whole room.

“I said,kneel,Cyrus,” Rowan said, his voice lacking all the previous mockery.

“You are crazy—” Astoria began.

“Shut up,” he snapped at her. “Come on, Cyrus.”

“I kneel to my Creator alone,” Cyrus said defiantly.

“I think you seriously need to reconsider that. I am practically holding your wife’s life in my hands.”

“You wanted the throne!” Cyrus gestured behind him furiously. “There, go! Have it!”

“I want you to kneel before me, Emperor Cyrus the Great.” Rowan’s voice sneered. “I don’t know if you are aware of this, but there’s a prophecy about your wife saying she will bring the angel of destruction to his knees. Apparently, that is you, thanks to me. But your wife refused to fulfill it, so I took it upon myself.Kneel.”

Cyrus’ eyes locked onto Astoria’s; an unreadable expression crossed his face, and he clenched his jaw. Her heart dropped. She wanted to know what he was thinking. She wanted to explain herself. She couldn’t afford him to think wrongly of her.

Astoria opened her mouth, only to gape in horror as Cyrus began to lower himself.

“No!” she yelled, her eyes going wide. “No, Cyrus!No!”

The guards and the lords standing around the room protested in low and hesitant voices, but nothing deterred the determination flaring in Cyrus’ eyes. They remained locked with hers as he lowered and lowered himself until he was on his knees.

With the determination etched on his face, he had never looked more beautiful before. Astoria forgot her tongue.

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