nodded to the ground. “When you put on this cloak, you will absorb his blood into your body. This piece of him will belong to you until his debt is repaid.”
Alizeh stared at the grotesque garment, bile rising in her throat. The cloak had solidified into something that looked almost like leather, the gleam of it turning her stomach. “Must I wear it now?”
“No,” said Hazan. “Not yet.” He looked up then, his voice imbued with a surprising compassion when he said, “Cyrus, are you able to speak?”
Cyrus did not open his eyes, though he made an effort to swallow, then nodded his head. Alizeh looked from Hazan to Cyrus, her heart hammering in her chest. The realities of this disturbing night were becoming too monstrous, and she was suddenly stricken with fear.
When Cyrus finally spoke, his voice was ravaged.
Freely I bind my body,
these chains of my own design. I offer my blood as bond,
until I repay this debt of mine.
“Now,” said Hazan softly, “he will speak aloud his promises.”
Cyrus looked nearly wrecked, his chest straining as he struggled to draw breath. “I offer you my kingdom,” he said, the rasp of his voice unrecognizable, “in exchange for your hand in marriage. And I vow never to touch you unless you should desire that I do. Once I’m discharged of my debt to the devil, I offer you my life. You are free to kill me then at your discretion, for I will die willingly at your hand.”
Hazan exhaled shakily beside her, looking uncharacteristically distressed. Out of the corner of her eye, Alizeh glimpsed Kamran and Huda, too, who’d been so silent she’d nearly forgotten they were still in the room. Everyone looked rattled and grim, though none were as disturbed as she. Once more,
Cyrus spoke:
Should you choose to accept my oath, my blood is yours to claim.
Wear my pledge upon your back, then speak aloud my name.
Alizeh was breathing hard now, her eyes wild as she turned to Hazan, who offered her a nod of confirmation. With trembling hands, she reached for
the cloak, which was warm and slippery under her hands. A powerful wave of revulsion nearly unbalanced her then, and she worried she might actually be sick.
“Your Majesty,” said Hazan. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head, staring at the cloth of blood she held. “Hazan, this is – That is, I realize I made the decision to do this against your better judgment, but this is so much darker than I thought it would be – so much
worse –”
“I did try to warn you,” he said, his eyes heavy. “I know – I know you did –”
“You can still walk away. You’ve not yet accepted his oath. He will still suffer for a time, but not to the same degree.” He looked away. “But it’s cruel to leave him in agony like this. Even someone like him. Whatever you choose, you must make your decision now.”
There was no decision to make.
Alizeh could not walk away; she’d already made her choice. She’d already promised herself she’d stay the course, that she’d do what was best for her people – what was necessary to secure their future, their safety. She’d already argued this decision to its end, and she knew what she needed to do.
She simply wished she didn’t have to.
Shaking, she shook out the cloak, then whipped the heaving mass of it around her shoulders, where it settled and clung like a second skin, molding to the shape of her back. Her heart was frenzied now, beating so hard it was making her dizzy. She drew a deep, steadying breath, then turned her eyes to the man she would soon marry.
“Cyrus,” she whispered.
He gasped, his body seizing as some new pain assailed him, and then, with a suddenness that shocked her frozen limbs – the cloak melted into her body, flooding her veins with a rush of blood so potent she recoiled with fright.
The feeling soon settled into something altogether pleasurable, leaving her light-headed and steaming, unsteady on her feet. It was with a delicious relief that Alizeh felt as if she’d been set on fire. Her cheeks were hot, her head drowsed and heavy. It was surprisingly intimate, the feel of his blood in her veins, the fever of him now living inside her. She wondered whether this warmth would linger always, for the change within her had occurred with astonishing speed. It was as if something had been hooked inside her soul, tethering her to a heart whose beat she could almost feel. She knew without
lifting her head exactly where Cyrus hung in the air above her. She knew that, no matter where he went, she could walk a path to him blindly.
“Your Majesty?” said Hazan, watching her closely. “Are you –”
There was a violent sound, like a gust of wind, and without warning
Cyrus was released from his bonds, his limp body hitting the bloodied floor so hard the horrible crack echoed all around them. Like a desperate moth, his black shroud fluttered as it fell with him, cloaking his naked figure.
Alizeh drew a sharp breath.
She imagined she could feel the pulse of him inside her, the heat of his blood pumping in her veins. She moved toward him with rising fear, not knowing who she’d discover when he opened his eyes.
Hazan, Huda, and Kamran closed ranks steadily behind her, the four of them cautiously approaching his fallen body.
Only his face and part of one shoulder were visible, the rest of him still veiled in black. Cyrus stirred, the metallic locks of his hair glinting in the firelight, his face drawn and pale. He made a low, anguished sound, the pain of which seemed to reverberate in her bones.
“Why does it not help him that I am near?” she said, turning to Hazan. “I thought he would only suffer in my absence.”
“The bond is too fresh.” Hazan shook his head. “I’m afraid you can only quiet his pain at the moment. He will endure this agony regardless; it’s only a matter of how much.”
Alizeh absorbed this information with an ache, then dropped to her knees beside him, sinking into a shallow pool of his blood. She clasped her hands to keep from stroking his hair, smoothing his furrowed brow.
“Cyrus,” she whispered.
He fought to open his eyes then, and when he did, her heart wrenched in her chest. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, his pupils blown out, dilated to a disturbing degree. He still appeared to be suffering despite her proximity, his body rigid with strain.
“Does it hurt terribly even though I am here?” she asked him, searching his face.
He merely blinked at her, the action slow and tired, before his eyes closed once more.
“Cyrus?” She was panicking now. “Cyrus, can you speak?”
“It’s best if you don’t force him,” said Hazan quietly. “For him, the hell of this night has only just begun.”
