“No.”
“No to looking at options? Or all together? Because I know a few powerful Fae who might be a good ?t—”
“No,” Cassius said again, the word harsh and gritty. “No to other options. No to all of it.”
“Cass,” Cyrus sighed. “My offer still stands. I am willing to do this for you.”
His hands were braced on the window ledge, and he was leaning over the book, his head hanging down. “Are you, Cyrus? Because you still do not sleep at night.” He turned, leaning against the wall, an ankle crossing over the other as he folded his arms over his chest, mirroring Cyrus. “We cannot hear the sea here.”
“This isn’t about me,” Cyrus retorted.
Cassius arched a brow. “No? You are not offering up the lifelong sacri?ce of your power in a commitment to me? My mistake.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” Cassius nodded at him to go on.
“What do you want from me? I do not understand what it is I have to prove to you. Tell me, Cass. You’re the one who seems to think I’m not ready for this. So what will convince you otherwise?” Cyrus asked hotly, beginning to get agitated and not entirely sure why. If he didn’t want a Source, wanthimto be his Source, it shouldn’t be his issue.
Cassius was quiet for a long moment, studying him carefully. “I do not know,” he ?nally answered. “I just know that I will feel like an asshole if you wake up one morning and ?nd this isn’t what you wanted after all. That I let you do this when you were clearly still working through some things.”
Cyrus dropped his arms to his sides, turning to pull a book from the same shelf Cassius had been going through. “You and Scarlett are such self-sacri?cing martyrs. Despite what you two seem to believe, it is, in fact, not your responsibility to take care of everyone else.”
“Scarlett is a queen. That is exactly her responsibility,” Cassius argued.
“Fine. Her circumstances are a little different. But you? You can be sel?sh sometimes, Cass.”
Cassius scoffed. “Not when it involves another person. Not when it involves someone that I—” He paused, a hand running down his face before he met his gaze. “Not when so much has already been taken from you.”
“My offering is different from something being taken from me.”
“And when you resent me for it some day? When you want out and cannot leave?”
“Why would you ever think that?” Cyrus asked incredulously. Something shuttered across Cassius’s features, before he pushed out a long sigh and turned back to the book he’d been looking through. “Maybe I am not ready for this either.”
They hadn’t talked like this since the ship. Sure, they’d been spending the nights in the same room, drinking and playing cards, plotting and strategizing. Generally being a distraction for one another. Cassius distracting him from thoughts of Thia and Merrik; him distracting Cass from thoughts of his father and Razik. Both of them doing each other the courtesy of not bringing up the obvious issues they were both trying to repress.
He opened his mouth to push this issue further when Cassius said, “Does this drawing remind you of Tava?”
“Tava?” Cyrus repeated, moving to the window ledge, his shoulder brushing against Cass’s. He peered down at the book. “That’s not Tava.”
He bent down more for a closer look because there was no possible way... “I did not say it was her. I said it looked like her.”
“It’s not Tava,” Cyrus said again, eyes scanning the words written. This book was entirely in the common tongue. He ?ipped it over, his hand holding the page, while he read the cover before going back to the sketch. “This is Tava’s mother.”
The drawing was almost identical to the one he’d seen in the cabin on the ship that Cassius had shared with Drake. Cassius picked the book up so he could study the picture closer.
“It is remarkably similar,” he ventured.
“Not similar,” Cyrus argued. “Thatisher. I knew she’d looked familiar. By Anala, I cannot believe I did not put this together sooner.”
“What are you talking about?”
Cyrus pulled the book down some so he could point to a section of writing. “This. This right here is what I am talking about.”
Cassius’s eye began following the words, eyes widening with each one he read. “No,” he breathed.
“Yes,” Cyrus replied.
“Impossible.”