Page 91 of Dueling the Suitors

“We must give him the antidote now,” Prince Joaquin interrupted.

“I will wake him—”

“Allow me, Empress,” said a new, deep voice from behind.

Astoria turned to see an older man standing behind them, just a few feet away. The bodyguard Cyrus assumed would accompany his brother, she thought. But his attire was more regal than that of a guard’s. Maybe Windlewade had a different fashion from the human realm.

Astoria nodded her permission, and the older man—slightly younger than her father—stepped forward. “General Sean, Your Majesty,” he introduced himself, and his grey eyes moved to Cyrus. He sighed softly and went around the bed to stand at its foot, stretching his arms in front of him.

General Sean. Why did that name strike a chord?

Red magic burst from the man’s fingertips and encircled Cyrus’ body. His eyes fluttered open immediately, and he blinked at his brother, first in disbelief and then solemnly.

“Joaquin.”

Joaquin smiled solemnly. “Big brother to the rescue, huh?”

“I’m afraid so,” Cyrus rasped with a soft chuckle. He looked much more awake than he had when Astoria used her healing on him. Pureblood magic must have a better effect. Cyrus glanced to his left and right. “Where is my—” He cut short as his eyes found Astoria. He sighed with a smile.

“I’m here.” Astoria stepped closer to the bed.

“Once I heal you, I’m going to kill you myself.” Joaquin fished out a small vial from his pocket. “I am serious, Cyrus,” he said as Cyrus chuckled again.

“And then you will have to answer to my beloved wife, and I tell you, Brother, you wouldn’t want that.”

Astoria grinned before she could stop it. In her peripheral view, she saw General Sean looking at her.

Joaquin only sighed. He held up the antidote. “This is the fastest poison drainer we have. Once you drink it, you will go back to a deep sleep, and when you wake up, you will be as good as new.”

Astoria almost couldn’t believe it. She pinched herself lightly on the arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Cyrus was going to be healed.

“Andwhenwill I wake up?” Cyrus raised an eyebrow at his brother.

“Depends on the amount of poison you’ve been gulping down lately. Man, I swear it. First, I will kill whoever poisoned you, and then—”

“And then you will kill me. Fine. Give me the antidote.” Cyrus tried to sit up. Astoria moved to help him, but Joaquin was faster.

“General Sean,” Cyrus acknowledged the man at the foot of the bed. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I admit my magic is quite distracting.” The man winked, just before his face softened. “It’s good to see you again, Cyrus—or should I call youYour Imperial Majestynow?”

Astoria finally realized who this man was. He was Cyrus’ father’s friend, the one sent to look for Cyrus’s mother in the human realm, and who fell in love with a non-mage woman.

“Whatever you wish.”

“I think I will stick to Cyrus, then,” the man muttered.

Joaquin passed the vial to Cyrus, but his hands were too unsteady to hold it. Astoria took it from him, uncapped the vial, and brought it to his mouth. Their eyes met, and Cyrus smiled.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t,” she admonished him gently. “I did this out of selfish reasons, I assure you.” But her lips twitched.

He drank the antidote, and she dabbed his mouth with a towel. When she withdrew, he reached for her hand and held onto it.

Her heart flipped. “Dream of me,” she whispered, kissing his forehead.

His eyelids began to droop, and Joaquin helped him lie back down. Before his eyes closed, he squeezed her hand and whispered back, “Always.”

---