Page 81 of Dueling the Suitors

A weak but handsome smile lit up his tiresome, sweaty face. How he managed to look attractive in his illness and weariness was beyond her.

“There’s the fire I love,” he murmured, looking at her with drooping eyes.

Her mask slipped at those words. She set aside the cup, stood from the chair, and sat on the bed. She clasped her hand tightly over his, which was beneath the blanket, and stared at it as more tears sprang to her eyes.

“Why aren’t you recovering?”

Cyrus exhaled. “I don’t know, sweetheart. But, hey, look at me,” he urged weakly. When she met his eyes, he smiled. “I can tell you only this; I’m incredibly blessed to have you.”

“Don’t say that.” She narrowed her eyes and hastily wiped away the lone tear that slipped. “I’ve been a horrible wife. Some other woman would’ve—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cut her off, his voice hoarse. “There is no other woman. Not for me. You are the woman;mywoman. My wife. My Astra. My little dragon. Don’t you—don’t youdarethink like that again.”

Her lips twitched slightly, and she dropped her gaze. Cyrus released his hand from her grasp and brought it over the blanket to grab hers. It was burning, but Astoria didn’t care. She threaded their fingers and met his gaze.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been horrible to you—no,let me say this, Cyrus. I’m sorry for all the things I said and did to annoy you; I truly am. Whatever part of me wished you ill before, the whole of me now wants your recovery. And it’s not just that. The past few days gave me a lot of time to think—about you.

“You truly are loved by your people. Everyone in the palace is praying for your recovery, asking after you, and extremely worried. One of the guards even told me that you know their names—allof their names—and that you call them by it. I mean, who does that?” She released a watery laugh. “What king bothers to know the names of his staff? Clara told me you know every servant and stable hand too. You are the Emperor, Cyrus the Great. You are supposed to be this power-hungry, bloodthirstymonster, but all I see is a man who loves his people and has their best interests at heart. Of all the things I’ve been openly embarrassed about since you came into my life, not trying to know you is the worst of them.”

Cyrus squeezed her hand and looked at her as if she hung the moon. How could he look at her like that after everything she had done?

“You forgot the important part.” At her confused look, he added with a smile, “I deceived you, kidnapped you, and still have you trapped here with me. You had every right to be mad at me, to do and say the things you did, because I deserved it. Besides, I gave you the worst first and second impressions. If you hadn’t acted towards me the way you did, I would’ve thought something was fundamentally wrong with you.”

He chuckled heartily and lightly, and Astoria found herself joining him.

“For the record, Astra, you were my last regret even when you drove me insane.”

Her chuckle turned into a light laugh. “And for the record, I’m starting to like you.”

“Pigs must be flying—oh look, you are blushing, too.” He sighed dramatically. “I’m a very lucky man.”

“Oh quiet, you!” Her cheeks flamed, and she looked away, her eyes latching onto his medicine. “Now, be a good man and drink your medicine.”

She helped him sit up and he accepted the cup from her. “Only because you are insisting on it, Astra, or I’d rather not take any medicine at all.” He held his breath and gulped it down three times. “It’s disgusting.”

“I know—”

“Have you tasted it?”

“No?”

“Ah, then you don’t have the slightest clue.” Cyrus slipped back under the covers, wincing slightly. “My temples are hurting.”

Astoria picked up the towel from the ice water, wrenched it, and held it to his forehead. “Here, this will soothe it.”

Cyrus exhaled and closed his eyes. “So, even the rockiest of matches work, right?”

“Seems like it does.”

When Cyrus slipped back into slumber, Astoria stared at his face. She wished she could do more than this to help him. She wished she could heal him using her powers. But alas, she didn’t know how—or rather, she felt like she wasn’t powerful enough for healing. When Emmett had fallen ill years ago, she had tried to heal him like she read inPrince of Lars,but it didn’t work. It was definitely not going to work now.

Astoria dipped the cloth in the ice water again. Before she placed it on his forehead, she leaned down and kissed there. Then she stood. There was a meeting in half an hour. Astoria was about to turn when suddenly, a piece of parchment appeared out of thin air, right next to where she had sat on the bed.

She came out of her stupor and reached for it. Had Emmett found someone—perhaps Wizard Orion—who helped him send her a response? But this was a small piece of parchment. If Emmett ever sent her a response, it would be in at least two full parchments.

She turned the note over. What she read, written in loopy handwriting, turned her insides to ice.

Remember the prophecy. Don’t waste your chance. Finish him off.

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