Raising up to check the darkening sky, Cyrus ticks away every major event that has occurred since he discovered he was bound to a Ddraig. The process only takes a few minutes, then the stagnant waiting begins again.
You can always talk to me, Suryc reminds his Cadogan, hurt coloring his morose tone. Or are we not even allowed to converse now?
You’re angry at my choice to stay here, I realize that. But what better way to keep tabs on Wolf’s movements? I know my brother, Suryc. He’s careful, but when it comes to our relationship, he likes to brag about his superiority. I can use his arrogance against him. He’ll slip up, and I’ll find out everything about his intentions.
Is that your plan then? To undermine Wolf so that Iris finally comes to love you? Suryc’s voice rumbles with rueful amusement when Cyrus does not respond. You should know that Iris has already learned many things about your childhood. She knows how you were scarred.
“How?!” Cyrus barks out loud, embarrassment clouding his mind in vulnerable shame.
The Carreglas, Suryc answers, sending a surge of pity through their mental bonds. Siri took her into the caverns to see what it is we must protect. The things Iris learned there have made her begin to doubt Wolf’s motives.
How do you know all…? Siri, Cyrus realizes as a traitorous part of his heart flares to life with a renewed hope. He struggles to quell the emotion before it overtakes him. Hope is a luxury he cannot afford; to give in to its fantasy would only make disappointment that much harder to bear. His words are grim as he laments, I wish she hadn’t found out about our past. It will only deepen the wound when she still does not choose me, Suryc.
You don’t know—
“Tell me about her,” Cyrus demands as his heart flutters. The effect of the unquenchable hope already radiating through his blood sends a pulsing warmth down to his toes. “Show me everything that Siri has shared with you.” He closes his eyes and waits for Suryc to comply.
Are you sure this is wise? Suryc inquires rather than immediately following Cyrus’s wishes. Iris holds her secrets tightly to her heart.
“And I don’t?” Cyrus snarls aloud, wishing his binds were loose enough to scratch the new skin at his ankles. Why did I demand Wren retie these knots?! “If Iris can learn all my family’s dark history through your precious Carreglas, then I can damned well hear her secrets through you!” Cyrus sighs in his bitter frustration, breathing deep despite a lingering ache in his ribs. I need this, Suryc. I need something to keep my mind from going insane. She can’t hate me any more than she already does.
Just don’t tell her you saw her memories too. I’ve learned enough about this girl to know that if you try to force her trust in you, she will fight you all the way. If you let her learn to love you, then she will tell you everything in her time.
“She’ll never learn to love me, Suryc,” Cyrus whispers, wishing he could stop the tear that threatens to trace the Dadeni lines under his left eye. A bright light bursts awake in Cyrus’s mind as Suryc obeys his wishes, showering bits of color until a bright image appears in middle of the darkness.
A small babe waddles along the porch of a battered house. “Come here, my darling,” a man’s voice whispers, love pouring out of his proud smile as he holds his arms wide. The only resemblance he bears to his daughter is the shape of her dainty nose and the faintest coloring in her eyes. This man’s eyes are as gray as a storm cloud in the spring, but it seems he only gifted his daughter with the tiniest of raindrop hues to color her own irises.
“Her first steps,” Iris’s mother coos from her obscure hiding place at the doorway even as her eyes scan the grassland horizon. “We need to go back inside. This isn’t safe—”
“We can stay out here for a few moments,” Iris’s father protests, smiling as his daughter’s tiny fingers curl around his pinky.
“You heard about the near miss with our neighbors, didn’t you?” Iris’s mother questions, her voice fading out with her worry. “Weren’t you the one who came inside yesterday and announced that our neighbor’s little girl was almost snatched away by the border guards? I won’t have that happen to our daughter!”
Iris’s father has no answer. He gives his daughter a tight hug and a wistful smile as the image fades away.
A weathered door flies open, the burnished handle swinging back until it smashes into a tiny impression in the wall. “Daddy’s home!” calls the man as he slips inside the door. Signs of age subtly show up in the lighter hair around his temples and a few deeper wrinkles around the corners of his eyes.
Iris, now at least four years old, scurries over to him with open arms, her shining white hair glistening like a streak of lightning behind her. “Daddy!” She cries, and the sound of her voice tightens Cyrus’s throat automatically. “You were gone so long!” She giggles wildly as her father swings her around the room in celebration of his return.
“I know, love, but I brought presents,” Iris’s dad announces as he sets her down and drops a book into his child’s hands. “Happy birthday, my beautiful girl!”
“But, why can’t I see the animals?” Iris whispers, her voice turning grave even as her tiny fingers trace the faces of a lion and a scarecrow on her new book.
“I’m sorry, love,” her dad answers, picking her up once more and carrying her toward a battered green chair in the living room. “I know you wanted to go to the zoo; and believe me, your mother and I want to take you there. Maybe in
