Cyrus grabs my hand, halting my progress toward the path that leads deeper into the caverns. “Iris, I really think we could figure this out tonight if you’ll just stay—”
“Enough!” I snarl, ripping my arm away as my temper boils with my frustration. “After all the horrors I just had to witness, I’m done, Cyrus. I felt myself losing my mind because my Ddraig was dead. I watched you die right in front of me. Now, I need to sleep and try and forget how all that felt. Can you understand that?”
I shove past him, elbowing my way around his still frame. The wool in the shirt’s fabric scratches my skin as I hurry away, reminding me that I’m not in my own clothes. He was kind to me; he’s always been protective and kind to me in his way. He doesn’t deserve my impatience or my scorn.
I almost make it out of his sight without speaking again, but that nagging sense of guilt stays my feet at the edge of the cavern, forcing my mouth to whisper, “Thanks for letting me use your shirt.”
“I’m sorry,” Cyrus replies, his arms crossing as he scuffs the ground with his boot. “I know I’m pressing you to stay and talk more than you want. I just….” His words trail off as he silently argues with himself over what to say. He shifts from one foot to the other, hesitating on the edge of sharing his thoughts with me and keeping me out of his confidence.
“Please, tell me,” I sigh, walking back to stand beside him, stifling a yawn as the shock of my vision wears off, fatigue rapidly filling the void in my thoughts. Whatever it is, just make it quick! My burning eyelids scorch my pupils as I blink, and I struggle not to fall asleep while I wait for Cyrus to make up his mind about talking to me. In truth, I am curious as to what is on his mind. Ever since we returned from the House of Piranhas, he’s treated me with cold hostility or guarded fear. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that this is the most civil conversation we’ve had in a long time. So, my attempt to be gentle and kind as I approach him once more is completely genuine. “What are you trying to say, Cyrus?”
Cyrus controls his breathing, his hands growing still as he makes a decision. “I just…don’t want to be alone.” Raking a hand over the back of his neck, the words finally pour out of his mouth. “My brother broke something inside me, Iris. I wake up at night in terror, screaming as I dream of all the nightmarish things he did to me. My dreams have been bad enough that they cause me to sleepwalk. I’ve awakened at the mouth of the cave, calling for my brother, begging him to kill me. Sometimes I fear I’m crazy.” Pulling one arm away from his body, I see a long, jagged cut running from wrist to elbow, neat stitches keeping it closed. “Last night, I woke up when I’d sliced my own arm open, my last words a shout of triumph, proclaiming that I would finally die and rid the world of my wickedness. I’m still not sure if that’s truly what I want or something my brother managed to implant into my brain. Either way, I am afraid I’ll kill myself if I’m left alone too long.”
“But you don’t feel like you want to die when you’re awake, right?” All traces of sleep disappear from my mind when I hear Cyrus’s fears.
Cyrus shakes his head, his arms wrapping around his body as though he’s keeping out a chill. I can see his teeth chattering. “I only feel this way when I’m asleep. Some hallucinations are so strong they happen when I’m awake too, but I’ve been able to talk myself through those,” Cyrus confesses, wringing his hands a little as he focuses his gaze on the ground.
“How come I’m just hearing about this now, Cyrus? Does Suryc know?” I demand, wondering how he’s managed to stay alive this long on his own. It’s a miracle he’s survived this long!
In a much softer voice, Cyrus rasps, “I couldn’t tell Suryc. I couldn’t handle the hurt it would bring him. I’m only telling you now because I actually drew blood this last time.” Cyrus shivers, his eyes growing wide as he recalls the details of his last nightmares. “I’m afraid I’m losing my mind, Iris. The darkness in me is growing stronger, and I fear I cannot trust myself, alert or asleep.”
My heart feels as though I’ve weighed it down with heavy stones and tossed it into the river. “How long have you been dealing with this alone?” I would have done something if I’d known, I tell myself to assuage my guilt.
“It’s been coming on since I was captive with Wolf. After we returned to the Pith, I started sleepwalking. I’d go to Suryc for comfort, but he spends his nights with Siri.” And I can’t bear the sight of our Ddraigs together while you and I remain apart. He does not say it, but I recognize the wistful longing in the way he stares at me. “The self-harm is really what terrifies me.”
“Who stitched your wound?” I inquire pity causing my heart to ache. I understand what it feels like to wake up screaming, to search for comfort and find none. Talking to Cyrus is in many ways like conversing with a mirror. I may not be prepared to love or couple myself to him, but I can relate to his circumstances.
“I did it myself. Hurt like hell, but I managed.” Feverish terror gleams in Cyrus’s wild eyes. “Please. Help me. I know it’s a lot to ask. I mean, you’ve already saved me once. But—”
“Follow me.” My voice sounds tiny as I give the order, and I struggle to
