Page 76 of Dueling the Suitors

“I don’t want your pity,” she said sternly, meeting his eyes. “I’m not weak because I relied on my brother or fragile just because I—”

“I didn’t say you are.” He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. He pulled it back immediately and flicked his wrist, casting a shield, as though he hadn’t been aware of the rain until now. He met her eyes, the gentleness in them making her both angry and fluttery inside. “I will send the letter to your brother any time you wish; you have my word. But please, I request you not to try to leave the castle gates again—not that my men would allow that. Now, I need to dry off. If you meet me in my study in half an hour, I’ll be ready.”

With that and a lingering gaze, he turned and jogged back into the castle, leaving Astoria in the middle of the courtyard, lightning-struck as she stared after him.

It took her more than half an hour and dinner in her room to beat down her pride and bang on the door of his study.

“Come in,” Cyrus called out.

She entered and closed the door behind her. Cyrus rose from his seat and came around the large desk towards her, the shadow of a smile on his face. He gestured towards the sofa by the right wall and said, “Let’s sit down.”

Astoria followed him to the sofa and sat down, leaving more than enough space between them. He lent a hand for her letter, and she passed it to him. He closed his eyes, concentrating.

Astoria ignored the way her heart raced and focused on the letter in his hand, trying hard not to stare at his face like she had before. When the letter vanished, Cyrus opened his eyes and assessed her with a smile in them.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said.

Astoria rolled her eyes. “You gave me no other choice.”

He gave her a fond look. “Now, what would you like to know about me first?”

Astoria fixed him with an incredulous gaze before shaking her head. “Oh, I’m not doing this.” She stood. “I just wanted to—”

He caught her by the hand. “Astra, please.”

Astoria froze. He hadn’t called her that since their wedding night.

“I know we started really rough. But it doesn’t have to be that way all the time,” he continued, his voice frighteningly sincere. He gave her hand a soft tug, but she didn’t turn, nor did she pull away. “You see, I’ve been nagged by Clara and the court about getting married for a long time. I knew I needed an heir, but I didn’t want to get married any sooner, not until I was thirty. Then I heard about the princess who challenges her suitors in a duel to win her hand. I must say, I’ve never heard anything like that before. Suitors challenging each other for the princess’ hand? Yes. But the princess challenging her suitors? Absolutely not. I was impressed.” He chuckled fondly, and she felt him shake his head.

The warmth from the night of her coronation stirred in her heart. Astoria knew that was her cue to stop him, but strangely, she wanted to know what he had to say.

“Rowan teased that a woman who challenges me would suit me best, but that was just it—a tease, a joke. Until news reached me that the duel wasn’t just any duel but a magical one. That you were a Mage. Now, I have the history of every royal line across the continent, but none of them mentioned the Daliston royals having a Mage in their family. I assumed maybe your mother was one, but that was until I learned you were the only one in the family born with magic.

“To be honest, I spent a lot of my time trying to uncover your mystery, especially after I learned that you were the secret weapon of the rebels. But I couldn’t figure anything out. And you remain my mystery. Then I began to plan ways to stop you and the rebels. Rowan suggested I should marry you by attending the tournament under the disguise of a nobleman from one of the unconquered kingdoms. I thought it was ridiculous, but he told me it was the only way I could outsmart the rebels. I was still unwilling until I heard your father was inviting even the poorest of the unconquered kingdoms to fight for your hand. I realized how desperate the rebels were, and your father only made it more obvious, so I knew it was my cue.

“So, I disguised myself as a street performer, made up a brilliant cover story, and came to Daliston through my portal in the Husk Woods. I had to make it look real; going directly to the castle and declaring myself willing to duel with the princess seemed unwise. So, I made quite the show in the capital square. Your father’s men saw me and brought me immediately to the palace—saving me the trouble of going through with my pretense for more than a day.

“The rest, of course, you know. But in case you wondered how I’m able to produce magic like you—even more than you; the illusion, for example—this is something I don’t tell everyone. But you are my wife, and I want you to know it.” He paused to sigh. “I am no rare gem, Astra. I am a Pureblood—a Pureblood Mage from Windlewade.”

That finally had Astoria turn and face him. He had better be jesting!

“I’m not jesting, darling,” he said, as though reading her mind. His expression was so sincere she found herself slowly believing it. He tugged at her hand, which he hadn’t let go of. “Sit down; this is a long story.”

Astoria sat down. This was something she couldn’t miss out on, even for her pride.

Cyrus withdrew his hand reluctantly. “I didn’t lie when I said I have a father and a brother. They are in Windlewade; although my father’s sickness was a lie. The last time I checked, he was healthy. He is… he is the High King of Windlewade.”

Astoria stared at him in astonishment. “So you are…”

He gave her a tiny, sly smile. “Not exactly what you think I am, trust me. Iama prince because my father is the king, but I’m his illegitimate son.”

“Oh.”

“Quite unexpected, isn’t it?”

“Well, I didn’t knowwhatto expect of your heritage, so I think I’m not that shocked—but a Pureblood from Windlewade? I thought your arrogant ancestor closed the portal between our realms.”

“Ouch. Not even my ancestor deep in his grave is spared from your insult,” he teased with a smile. “But yes, that’s true. He closed the portal, and the key was passed down to the heirs for generations. Now my father has it. I didn’t know he had it until—well, I’ll start from the beginning.

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