Chapter 17: 17_Hidden schemes

Her anger gave way to surprise as Milana studied Cyrus’s face. There was clear tension in the clenched muscles of his jaw, a piercing glare in his eyes as he looked at the old woman.

His tone was so dark, she couldn’t muster the courage to argue and so, inclining her head in a short bow, she rose from the seat and made her way to the door.

As soon as the door was shut behind Milana, Cyrus turned all his attention to the furious peacock in the room.

“Lady Hadgar, is it?”

Hesitant, Lady Hadgar eyed him as she slowly nodded. “Yes.”

His gaze grew even colder, detached from everything except his rage toward the woman. “I’m Cyrus, the Beta Prince of the kingdom of Zaire.”

Lady Hadgar wondered if she should call the guards. She didn’t feel safe. “I… I already know that—”

"What you clearly don't know," Cyrus interrupted. "Is my relation to both Princess Milana and Princess Amethyst, whom you've just referred to as an errant girl. Perhaps... I should teach you how to respect royalty and remind you of your place in the world." He stood. "Please. Allow me to show you why you do not threaten Princess Milana in *my* presence."

A while later, the doors to Lady Hadgar’s library opened and Cyrus calmly walked out.

Milana turned away from the hideous painting she’d been studying to look at him. “What happened? What did you say to her?”

He reached her and smiled, shaking his head. “Nothing much, don’t worry about it.”

“Bridgette!!” Lady Hadgar screeched inside the library. *“Briiidgeeette!!”*

“Yes, my Lady!” a girl yelled, running down the hallway to the library.

Milana watched with wide eyes. “What… what did you do?!”

Cyrus frowned curiously at her face. He suddenly leaned in and Milana gasped, freezing.

He raised one hand and gently picked something off her cheek, his fingertips brushing her soft skin. “Strand of hair… stuck to your cheek,” he whispered.

He straightened and she blinked, swallowing hard.

Like he hadn’t just completely scattered her composure, Cyrus walked away. She didn’t move.

“Come on, Milana,” he sang. “We have to find our errant princess.”

Jolting, she snapped back to her senses and quickly followed him. When she caught up, she glanced longingly up at him, failing to hide the feelings she kept so secret.

Prince Cyrus was hard to confess to. One moment he was cold, the next he was like this. Puzzling, tempting. Because there really was no reason why he’d need to come within an inch of her face just to pick a strand of hair off her cheek. Especially when he usually acted like she could potentially eat him alive.

Last night, the barman who’d told them (at the low fee of a priceless jewel) to ask Lady Hadgar about Amethyst had also offered them a place to sleep at his inn.

He’d had a single room available and Milana had been foolish and improper enough to entertain the fleeting thought of her and Cyrus sharing a bed chamber for one night.

There had been no such. He’d only gone as far as being in the room with her to see that she was comfortable and then he’d left her there. She’d learnt in the morning that he’d spent the entire night at the bar, frowning coldly at all the unruly patrons as he sipped his ice water.

She sighed now, taking her gaze away from him. If there was one mind she wanted to read, it was that of Cyrus, Prince of Zaire.

“Well, at least now we know Amie’s alive and well,” he commented casually.

She nodded, her earlier relief resurfacing. “Yes, that is relieving. I have no clue what this whole thing is about her joining a band of Barbarians, but I’m sure she’ll explain it when we find her.”

His mouth twitched. “It would be hilarious if that story Eroz said is true but, instead of chopping her enemy to bits, Amethyst, pure and innocent as we know her to be, went over to the dark side and became a criminal along with him.”

Milana gasped in horror. “God, please, I beg of you, don’t say that.”

The amusing thought wouldn’t leave his head now and Cyrus found himself laughing about it.

“It isn’t funny, my mother would skin us all alive and hang us to dry.”

“I wouldn’t blame her, he said.”

“Only because you think you would be spared! Queen Monica spares no one, you’ll feel her wrath too if we don’t find Amie soon.”

At that, Cyrus sobered. He’d met Milana’s mother at Raiden and Natalia’s second wedding. She’d been a graceful, dainty woman, but the fact that she was tough as claws and able to see through people like glass hadn’t been hidden by her poise. If the woman hadn’t been a queen, she would’ve been a soothsayer, for sure. The thought of having her peer into his eyes and verbalize all of his darkest secrets made Cyrus’s stomach knot up, he would do anything to avoid her all-seeing eyes.

He cleared his throat. “Bring out the compass. Where do we go next?”

******

“She’s a *princess,* Steel,” Gunn said firmly. “His daughter. If she’s with us and they trace her, they may lay siege to our men, our tribe, our… our village.”

With a low grunt, Thoran grabbed the towel on his shoulder and ruffled his hair with it to soak up the water from his shower.

Gunnar raised his brows, tilting his head. “That’s all you have to say?”

“No, Gunn, I understand your concern. It won’t happen.”

“How can you guarantee that?”

Dropping the towel onto the wooden board by the window, Thoran looked at him. “Isn’t it obvious? The very thing you fear is our safety net. We have her, we have his daughter. We have Kendrick by the balls, is what I’m saying. He wouldn’t risk us killing the girl, he’ll do whatever we say. Moreover, we can also use her to easily empty the bastard’s coffers.”

Gunn’s shoulders lowered, the tension leaving his muscles as he thought it over. “You plan to demand her father’s wealth in exchange for her.”

Thoran said nothing, his deep gaze looking at Gunnar in mild amusement.

A scoff parted Gunnar’s lips, a reluctant smile erasing the angry look he’d worn. “You're a bastard, Thoran Steel.”

Deep laughter filled the room, a sound Thoran rarely ever made.

Gunn shook his head, stifling his smile. “You laugh, but she’s hell-bent on battling you. She thinks she’s here saving her kingdom. Don’t tell me you really intend to cross swords with the dove, she’ll break in two under your power.”

“You underestimate her,” Thoran said. “She isn’t as powerless as she seems. Regardless of that, I don’t plan to fight her at all, I only said that to make her think she has a choice in staying here. Even if she and I do pick up swords, at one point, the outcome of the duel won’t have anything to do with our plans for Gadon.”

“She’s certainly going to lose, but you’re saying that even if she did win…”

“We’d still target her people, yes.”

Slowly nodding, Gunnar finally understood what Thoran was planning. “It’s gonna be a pain having a girl in the camp.”

“The guys will get used to it, just don’t tell them she’s a princess.”

Gunnar scoffed. “Why would I do that when I've never even told them about you?”

He got a mild glare for those words but didn’t care, feeling the mischievous need to rile Thoran up. “What? You looked in the mirror when you put that bloody suit on, didn’t you? Fit right in with Hadgar’s damned guests, you’re practically a prince yourself—”

“Shut up, Gunn, or I’ll cut your tongue out.”

“I’d take off your head before you could try.”

Thoran scoffed irately, but humour glinted in his eyes. It quickly filled his mind, a bright memory of him and Gunnar in their happiest days, the loud cheer of the crowd as they circled each other in the arena, weapons drawn. It felt like a different life lived by a different Thoran Steel, not the man he was today.

“But seriously,” Gunn said. “How the hell are we supposed to take care of her? She’s a princess, Steel, and we live, sleep and eat like savages.”

Rolling his shoulder muscle to check the cut on his arm, Thoran grunted. “It’ll be fine. Surely, a girl who can take a sword and attempt to hunt a Barbarian can rough it out like one herself. There shouldn’t be a problem.”