Queen of Blood and Vengeance (Secrets of the Faerie Crown #4)

76. Cyara

76

CYARA

She fought the urge to follow Osheen out of the tent. He had not spoken to her when they’d gathered the Knights of the Round Table, and he left the second the meeting concluded. She was not self-centered enough to believe that his behavior was wholly about her. He was likely checking on Maisri. Finding his place in the ranks for the next day. Setting up his tent, if he hadn’t had a moment yet.

Or he was avoiding her.

But with mere hours left before the fight, she could not hold her peace. Her mother was with the healers. Her queen was with her Aquarian counterpart, Lyrena guarding her back. And Cyara… she was alone.

It took some asking, but eventually she located him on the outskirts of the terrestrial camp. He’d volunteered himself for perimeter patrol even though it would mean he had less sleep than most of the other warriors on the battlefield come the morning. It did not surprise her at all.

He walked a slow but steady line along a northwestern stretch of the camp, between two sharp peaks that formed a natural barrier on either side. Cyara recognized the vines creeping over the ground as she approached. Small, slender tendrils coaxed from the sparse plants of the desert, they stretched across the ground, alerting him instantly to any intruders. She tried to avoid them, but it was futile. Still, he did not turn as she quickened her pace to catch him up. He knew it was her.

Osheen did not protest as she fell into step beside him. Cyara knew him well enough to recognize the hunch of his shoulders. Silence was not always a good sign.

“You convinced the Faeries of the Fen to come,” she said. The little vines moved as they walked, widening the path that they’d made for Osheen to leave room for her as well.

“They were already preparing for a fight. We only had to convince them to join in ours rather than wait for the succubus to come for them in the caves. We came to Eldermist because Taliya was more willing to aid the humans than the fae.” He paused. “Maisri did most of the work, as you predicted.”

Cyara tucked her wings in tight to prevent one from accidentally touching him. She doubted the caress would be welcome. “Where is she?”

“Safe.”

Her shoulder blades contracted nearly to touching.

“You do not trust me.” It was to be expected after what she’d done. She had fully understood the consequences of betraying Osheen’s confidence and sneaking away. She would not use the excuse that it had been under Arran’s orders. Her actions were her own. “I… I understand.”

And she did. She truly did. Maisri was the most precious thing in Osheen’s world. Cyara loved the child, too. If Osheen said that Maisri was safe, then she believed him without question. She did not begrudge him keeping that information from her if that was truly what he believed the best course of action. Maisri came first, and that was precisely as it should be.

They reached the end of the opening between the two mountains, and Osheen spun. Cyara did not, letting him face her. She was not ashamed of her actions. She would not hide.

Osheen’s eyes flared, but he did not try to avoid her.

“She is hidden away in the mountains with the faeries that came but decided not to fight. They’ve made their own camp, away from the others. Trust is earned.”

Cyara’s wings drooped. From the flick of Osheen’s eyes, she knew he marked the movement.

“I am glad she is safe,” she said.

“You found the chalice.”

“Yes. It was not what I thought.”

She waited for his admonishment. His anger. She knew he could get angry. Even-tempered as Osheen was—as he had to be, with a ward as spirited as the daisy fae—even he was not immune to the emotion.

Ancestors forgive her, but Cyara wanted some of it for herself. She stupidly, recklessly, wanted to know that what she’d done mattered to him. That he cared as much as she did.

“I cannot apologize for my actions.” She lifted her brows, daring him to argue with her.

The slithering of vines around them intensified. “Because you do not believe you were wrong.”

“I am sorry that I hurt you and Maisri. But not for trying to save Veyka.” There. That was the best she could do. The ire that stole over Osheen’s features told her that it was not enough.

But the anger did not stay. It was gone in a flash, replaced by something much more dangerous to Cyara’s resolve, something she recognized immediately. Longing.

Vines caressed her legs, wrapping around her calves. But it was his hands the reached up to cradle her face. His fingertips that brushed along her jaw as he tilted her chin upward and kissed her.

There was no anger in that kiss. Only months of repressed longing and wondering. He was soft and warm against her, his taste of peppermint and basil and possibility. So gentle… so impossibly gentle. He flicked his tongue across her bottom lip and she opened for him, ready. She’d take everything he offered. Osheen gave and gave and gave, his kiss sweeter than she’d dreamed, even as it lit a fire low in her belly.

Then he pulled away. He ended it. The vines at her legs released her, and his hands did as well. Cool night air rushed in to fill the space, the first hints of spring a promise of tomorrow. A tomorrow they did not have.

There was only one reason for him to kiss her after all this time they’d both spent denying the attraction between them. It was not an offering of hope. It was a goodbye. Osheen believed that one or both of them would die on the morrow.

Cyara held back the tears. She’d shed too many these past few months. That kiss had only confirmed what she’d known from the start. There was no future for them.