“You’re sure about this?” Dorian asks as he takes his phone from his pocket. There’s wariness in his eyes. They question and hope I will take it back. “You know this will take time. That this won’t be resolved quickly.”

“I understand that,” I say. “Just do it.”

Dorian and Malachi look at one another, each just as nervous about my plan as the other. But they take out their phones, and they make some incredibly life-changing phone calls.

I called this a game. But there is very little that is entertaining in all of this. This is tactical. It’s black and conniving. This will scare the hell out of the people.

But I know it will work.

I stare out the window as Dorian and Malachi plan with their connections. We speak in Cyrus’ office. There’s a view out the front, one that looks out over Roter Himmel.

It’s an enchanting town. The castle sits above the city. There are two main roads, one that leads down from the castle toward the lake. The other cuts to this side of the lake, then wraps around it where it heads to the mountain pass, and eventually leads to the tiny town that supports the airport we use.

Homes dot the landscape here. Some small cottages. Others, large sprawling mansions. There are shops and markets. I see people milling about down there, just like this is their normal life. They shop. They raise their families.

But this isn’t a normal town, those aren’t normal lives.

Down there, there are Royal vampires and humans. They live in harmony. These humans know our secrets and willingly let us feed off of them. They are taken care of, in exchange for protection and financial security.

There is no other place in the world like Roter Himmel.

The Royals here don’t have glory, they don’t have attention. They don’t lead Houses. But they get comfort. They can be their true selves, they don’t have to hide. It’s not like the outside world, where Alivia and Ian, and Lexington Dawes have to keep the secret of what they are.

We live in the open here.

And if I don’t do something to protect it, others will try to tear it apart.

“It is done, Queen Sevan,” Dorian says as he comes to stand at my side. “They will all arrive over the next two days.”

Malachi then comes to stand beside me. “My armies have agreed, as well. They will be here shortly.”

“Good,” I say coldly as I look at the home I love so much. And my heart hurts.

Because I know the hell I am about to unleash on my people.

---

In the comfort of the belly of the castle, I push the door open and slip inside the lab. The air is cool and crisp with moisture. I light the torches, casting the space in a warm glow of flame.

I force my heart to be calm as I walk across the room. Cyrus lies there in silhouette. With shallow breaths, I silently walk to his side.

Carefully, I remove the bandages, tossing them into the fire pit.

With reverence in my breath, I dare to look at his neck.

Smooth, creamy skin stretches from his chin to his collarbones. Unbroken flesh wraps around his neck.

He’s healed.

Everything looks natural, as perfect as it did weeks ago when I said goodbye to Cyrus back in Greendale.

“Where are you, Cyrus?” I whisper.

My heart hurts. I ache. I want to reach inside his soul and search for anything to grab onto, any sign he is there, and pull him back into the here and now.

“I don’t know what else to do, Cyrus,” I confess. I place a hand on his cheek, caressing his face. “I’ve done everything I’ve watched you do. I’ve used blood and ash and mud. I’ve prayed and begged. I’ve done my part.”

My lower lip trembles and I feel weak. “Now you have to find your way back to me.”

I climb up onto the table, and gently, I raise his right arm, wrapping it around my shoulders. I rest my head on his chest. I press my forehead into his cheek.

I’ve touched a lot of dead bodies over the last year. They’re cold. They turn hard and stiff.

Cyrus isn’t cold, but he isn’t warm. He isn’t stiff, but he’s dead weight.

I don’t know if he’s dead. He certainly isn’t in a coma. But his soul certainly isn’t in him right now.

“Where are you, im yndmisht srtov?”

I’m desperate, so that makes it harder. But I’ve found him in sleep before, so I tell myself to sleep, to sink into the dark.

And because I don’t need it so often, and I have so much lately, it takes me at least two hours, but eventually, I slip between the folds of reality.

---

I see him sitting on a rocky outcrop that juts over the lake. Across the field I walk, watching him the entire time.

He sits with his knees tucked into his chest, his arms wrapped around them. His shoulders are tense, the line of his lips, tight. The stormy sky above is reflected in his eyes, dark and serious.

I reach the base of the rocks and begin the short climb. I pull myself onto the flat landing and take the two steps to his side, sitting beside him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

If I surprised him with my arrival, he doesn’t show it. He just continues staring out over the lake.

“I think I’m finally tired,” he says. His voice is shaky, just a little bit. Unsure.

“Tired?” I ask, my brows furrowing.

He doesn’t immediately explain. He just stares, reflective. “It’s been so long. The same patterns over and over. And here I fight to do it all again. I fight so desperately to get out of this hell. And for what? To do the same things over and over.”

His words make my heart trip.

I have never, ever heard Cyrus speak this way.

“A life as long as yours is bound to get a little monotonous,” I say, struggling to find some wisdom. “But that’s the good thing about being individuals. We choose our direction, every day.”

Cyrus shakes his head. “It’s been so long. I think I’m finally tired, Sevan. But still, it comes. The dark during the light.”

---

Like I was slapped, I jerk awake. I rise up on my elbow, looking down at Cyrus.

“No,” I say, scrambling to my knees. I grip his shoulders, shaking him. “Don’t you dare give up on me.” I’m frantic, my words coming out too fast. “This is not over, Cyrus. This is not how you go down. We can change things. Don’t you dare leave me here.”

Tears pool in my eyes as I think about that empty look in his eyes.

Hell. That’s what Cyrus said he’d been in.

Lonely, empty hell.

“Wake up, damn it!” I yell, shaking his body roughly. “I need you, Cyrus! I won’t let you leave me!” I slap him across the face as one tear slips down my face.

He doesn’t react.

I breathe in a big breath, shifting so that I kneel beside him. I cover his mouth with mine and breathe five breaths into him. I then place my hands on his ribcage and do ten compressions over his heart.

I repeat the process ten times, crying the entire time.

“Wake up,” I sob as I start the eleventh repetition.

But as I stare down at him, he doesn’t gasp. He doesn’t open his eyes. His chest doesn’t rise and fall on its own.

“I won’t let you stay there,” I promise him, anger creeping into my voice. “You don’t get to give up on me. You took away my choice once.” Black vipers rise up in my blood. “This time I’m taking away yours. I will find a way to bring you back, whether you like it or not.”

I take a step back from him, swallowing once.

It’s a promise. One I’ll move heaven and hell to keep.

So I turn, holding my chin high, and I leave.