Chapter Two - What are you Scheming?

Chapter Two

She was having the best dream of her life.

She didn't know what it was about – just that it was warm, and she was laughing, and nothing hurt.

Then she felt eyes on her.

Gianna's eyes snapped open.

A man was sitting in the chair right beside her bed, close enough that she could see the individual lines of his frown, the set of his jaw, the way he was looking at her like she was something deeply, personally offensive to him.

She screamed and scrambled back against the headboard so fast the blankets twisted around her legs, heart slamming, one hand flying out looking for something –  anything –  to grab.

"Who are you?" She was already breathing hard. "How dare you come into Luna's room – who let you in here, I'll have you thrown out, I'll have the guards –"

"You don't even know who I am."

He said it like an accusation, his eyes fixed on her with something that curdled between anger and disbelief.

Gianna stopped and really looked at him. 

He had the Valemont crest on his ring. 

She noticed the way he sat in the chair – not like a servant or a guard but like someone who owned the room.

Oh.

"You're Cyrus," she said. "My husband."

His expression shifted slightly. He leaned back slowly and looked her over from head to foot with the expression of someone who has just confirmed a suspicion they didn't want confirmed.

"I heard you hit your head," he said. "Someone told me you were in a bad way. You look perfectly fine to me."

"I have a lump the size of a fist on the back of my skull."

"You're sitting up and yelling. You're fine." He stood.

He reached for her.

Gianna didn't think. She rolled sideways, fast, off the opposite edge of the mattress before his hand got anywhere near her. She landed on her feet and spun to face him across the width of the bed.

Cyrus's hand hung in the air where she'd been.

He stared at her.

She stared back.

A long, strange moment of silence lasted between them. 

Then his eyes narrowed. "The lingerie."

Gianna said nothing.

"My room." He dropped his hand. His voice went quieter, which was somehow worse than if he'd raised it. "Last night. Someone put a pile of lingerie and aphrodisiacs in my room. The Omegas said it was on your orders." He looked at her across the bed. "Was it you?"

"Yes," Gianna said.

Cyrus blinked.

"I did it to help," she said. "You found your fated mate. I thought you should have a proper first night together. I had the room prepared."

The silence that followed was a different kind of silence.

Cyrus's expression moved through several things very quickly. She watched him land on fury.

"Pietra." He said the name carefully, "Is not that kind of woman. Do you understand that? She is nothing like you. She doesn't scheme. She doesn't manipulate. She is decent, which is clearly a concept you have no framework for." 

He came around the side of the bed, slow, and stopped a few feet from her. "You want to plant things in my room and dress it up as generosity. You want to make her uncomfortable on her first night here and make yourself look magnanimous at the same time." 

His eyes were hard. "What is it, Gianna? New trick? Or the same one with a different costume? Are you that desperate to get my attention?"

Gianna looked at him and she felt nothing that resembled desperation.

"I want a divorce," she said.

Cyrus stopped.

"You can have the Luna title," Gianna continued. "Give it to Pietra. She's your fated mate, it should be hers anyway. I'll go back to Highmoon. We end this cleanly and everyone moves on."

Cyrus stared at her for so long she could hear the fire crackling in the hearth across the room.

Then he let out a short, humourless laugh. 

"You want a divorce." He pointed at her. "You. The same woman who stood in her father's study and threatened to stop eating until he did something. The same woman who made Alexandra go on his knees to the Lycan King – embarrass himself, call in favors he spent twenty years building – just to get this marriage approved." He took a step closer. "You cried at the ceremony, Gianna. Told everyone in earshot you'd loved me since the moment you saw me." His voice dropped. "And now you hit your head and you want a divorce?"

Gianna said nothing.

"What are you scheming?" he asked. "What does this get you? What are you trying to set up?"

"I'm not scheming anything. I want out of a marriage that –"

"Impossible." He turned away. Conversation over, by his own decree. He crossed to the door in five steps and pulled it open. "Get up. Get dressed. We leave in an hour."

Gianna didn't move. "Where?"

"The palace." He still didn't look back at her. "There's a banquet tonight. The King will be there." He pause, hand on the door frame. "And if you do anything to embarrass me in front of Ethan, you will regret it."

He walked out.

The door didn't slam. He just pulled it shut behind him with a quiet, final click, which was somehow worse.

Gianna stood alone in the middle of the room.

She reached up and pressed her fingers to the back of her skull.

Then, she dropped her hand and walked to the wardrobe.

The King, she thought. I'm going to meet the man who made this marriage happen.

She started looking for something to wear.