“Tell that creature that I’m a friend,” Wren warns, sure that Suryc intends to cause him harm. “Tell it that I haven’t hurt you and that I am doing all I can to save you.”
“He knows,” Cyrus mutters, closing his eyes, tensing as the lids scald his achingly dry eyeballs. “Suryc would have killed you already if he thought you were a threat.” Wrenching his neck so that he can glimpse his Ddraig at the window, Cyrus wonders, “How do we fix this, Suryc?”
“I think…I think that whatever is happening to you is not a sickness at all,” Suryc answers thoughtfully, probing his connection to his Cadogan. “That’s why you don’t need to heal.”
“Then what is it?” Wren butts in, reaching a hand up to Cyrus’s forehead. “He’s burning up, and you can’t tell me that it’s just shock wearing off from whatever Wolf’s done to him.” As Cyrus’s whole body begins to quake, Wren adds, “He won’t last much longer if we don’t get that fever under control.”
“You remember how Mynah’s eyes turned white and she was declared a Gwen? I’m guessing that something similar is happening to you. You’re not ailing…you’re changing. And your body is fighting it,” Suryc announces to Cyrus, his words mixed with fear and anticipation. “Try to relax.”
Without another word, Wren carefully slinks into the kitchen and out the back door to the water trough. Thankfully, the chill in the early hour hasn’t frozen the water completely. Dipping his ragged shirt sleeve into the trough, he hurries back inside to Cyrus. Cyrus’s body jerks violently, rattling the legs of the chair across the floorboards. “Shh…shh,” Wren coos, attempting to calm him as he wipes his brow with the frigid water. “You’re going to wake up your brother with all that noise!”
“He already has,” Suryc’s deep voice rumbles through the house, vibrating the window pane closest to him. “Get out of there, friend of my Cadogan. He comes!”
“We can’t just leave him like this!” Wren balks, staring at the Ddraig exasperatedly.
“No choice,” Cyrus mumbles through teeth that are clenched so tightly Wren fears the enamel will break. “Just go!”
Wren hears the sounds of boots scraping on the floor. Not hesitating, he races out the front door toward Suryc. “You need to hide!” he cries at the Ddraig.
Without a word of warning, Suryc grabs Wren around the middle and hauls him up into the sky. They barely reach the canopy before the front door of the house creaks open. A yawning Wolf peers outside, his senses disturbed by an unrecognized noise. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he assesses his brother in the living room. “You look like hell, brother.”
“Leave me alone,” Cyrus’s voice rattles with his haggard breath. “Stay away from me.”
“Oh, believe me, the last thing I’d want to do is end your suffering,” Wolf quips as he kneels before his brother. “But having you die from a natural illness is not a part of my plans. Use my strength to heal yourself.” Wolf pushes his body’s healing energy toward his brother. To his surprise, nothing happens to speed his recovery. With a grunt of frustration, Wolf tries and fails a second time. “How are you blocking me?” he snarls, surging forward to grasp Cyrus’s throat.
Cyrus opens his eyes wide at the contact. “Your skin burns me! Get away! Get away!” He howls as he attempts to put distance between them. With only his teeth as weapons, Cyrus snaps at Wolf’s fingers, biting down hard enough to draw blood.
“You son of a bitch!” Wolf shouts, wrapping his free hand around his bleeding fingers. Jumping back from Cyrus’s body, his anger changes abruptly to fear at the sight of his brother’s face. “My gods! What’s wrong with your eyes? They’ve gone completely black!”
Wolf’s words sound small to Cyrus’s ears, his mind and body far away from his present situation. “I see you very clearly, brother mine,” Cyrus whispers, yet the voice is strangely distorted. It does not hold the same growling pitch that it normally does, and the words are spoken with an expressionless, distant tone. “Or rather, I see every lie that you’ve ever spoken. They pour out of your mouth as easily as air. Tell me, what do you intend to do when you go to the House of Piranhas?”
“Cyrus, you’re sick,” Wolf replies, his voice betraying his fright with its tremoring pitch. “Let me help you get—”
“What do you plan for the people?” Cyrus repeats, his unnervingly hollow eyes focusing intently on his brother.
“I…I am to be their king like Iris wants. I will help them fight—”
“Lies!” Cyrus howls, his voice growing in volume and pitch until it seems to rattle the very foundations of the house itself. “You are in league with the people of Déchets!”
“No, I—”
“You betray us all with your double dealings! Traitor!” Cyrus’s mouth foams white with spittle from his rage. “What have you given to our enemy?”
“I’ve only given them trivial things, just to—”
“Liar!” Cyrus cries, pounding his hands against the chair’s arms until they creak and splinter under his attack. “Every word that you speak leaves your mouth poisoned! I can see it as clearly as if you are spewing black bilge into the air. There is a cloud of oily deception pouring from you!”
“I don’t have to answer any of your questions!” Wolf growls, gripping the couch to hide the quiver of fear in his limbs.
“True enough,” Cyrus replies, his voice turning cold. “But I will make sure that everyone knows of your treachery. You’ve sold out your people. By the time I am through, all of Cassé will have a death bounty on your head!”
Wolf startles and falls to the couch, his eyes wide with fear. “Whatever you may think, everything I did was with good intentions!”
“It may have started that way, but your motives have changed. You’re setting our land up to fail, and when it does, you’re expecting high favor from the Déchets’ king.”
Cyrus shatters the legs of
