Chapter 21
Esmyra
Esmyra never took kindly to being told what to do. In fact, she typically made a point to do the exact opposite out of spite, and Syrena’s order to remain in Maerinys was no different. Her sister had another thing coming if she thought Esmyra would sit idly by and hide in her palace’s tower.
Did Syrena think she was dumb enough to get shot again? The element of surprise was on their side last time, and they wouldn’t get that lucky again.
“I don’t like how she was acting either,” Kaelypso admitted. “Her imperious behavior rivals even Naerysa.”
Esmyra raised a brow. “Did you get along with your twin?” She’d never even really thought to ask.
“We certainly weren’t close.” It was silent for a few seconds before Kaelypso admitted, “As most siblings, I would say it depended on the day. Rysa could be a little controlling at best, overbearing and cunty at her worst.”
Esmyra snorted in response. “Well, perhaps history is repeating itself in more ways than one.”
Kaelypso’s quiet laugh echoed through her mind.
Now, Lephyrin’s castle loomed against the night sky, bathed in the soft, flickering light of a thousand torches.
Laughter and music floated in the air. It was a sickening contrast to the icy rage that burned through Esmyra’s veins as she watched the lords and ladies leave the festivities and enter their horse drawn carriages.
Her bare feet barely made a sound against the ground as she slipped from shadow to shadow. Her silver hair was braided tightly down her back, her swirling tattoos hidden beneath her cloak that blended into the stone of the castle’s outdoor walls.
A drunken lord stumbled out of line. “Long live King Atlas Rowe!” he chanted, and a few others joined him in celebration.
Esmyra’s lips curved in a grim smile. All she needed to do now was find Elowynne and dangle her life in front of their newly crowned king.
A pair of guards stood posted at the side entrance she chose, their muskets gleaming. Her stare lowered to their hands, where she caught the faint glint of silver bands.
Velsinyte.
She grimaced. It seemed Atlas wasted no time after she fled and had been smart enough to equip his men against her influence. A growl brewed in her chest at the memory of his father threatening to do that the night she captured Draevyn.
Unless she found a way to remove those rings, there would be no compelling them.
“What if we bite them off?” Kaelypso suggested as she crouched low behind a wall.
Esmyra’s lips pursed together as she tilted her head, considering. Honestly, she wasn’t above it. But perhaps she should be more civilized and slice them off instead.
Oh. Yes, actually, she liked that idea quite a bit.
Esmyra pressed her palm against the stone wall, feeling the steady pulse of moisture in the air. She couldn’t raise a wave in front of the palace doors without drawing attention… but a thin mist, something to cloud their vision just long enough for her to sneak up on them. That she could manage.
Lifting a taloned hand, she summoned a ghostly fog.
One of the guards coughed and shifted uneasily. “Do you see that?”
The other shook his head, lifting his musket higher. “Stay alert.”
The mist thickened as she watched from around the bend. It slowly lifted, now hovering around them well above their heads, engulfing the men within.
“This is bloody unnatural. Do you not feel that?” one of them asked, unsheathing his sword. He turned to his counterpart. “Go get the Phoenix.”
That was all Esmyra needed to hear to strike, and under the cover of the fog, she swiftly darted forward. The cold, damp air clung to her skin, wrapping around her like a second cloak.
The mist became her veil. Her ally and weapon.
The guards shifted nervously in their stances, their weapons trembling slightly in their hands.
“Who’s there?” one of them called out.
She didn’t answer. The only response the man received was the low hiss of the mist slithering across the courtyard stones.
And then Esmyra emerged, gliding on a phantom wind.
The mist peeled away from her, revealing the silver-haired goddess, Kaelypso, as if summoned from a nightmare.
Beads of water clung to her skin like glass, her tattoos glowing faintly with an eerie blue light, her pale eyes shimmering with unnatural luminescence.
Her lips twisted into something between a smirk and a snarl.
“You!” one shouted as they both raised their muskets. Muskets she knew held those pesky velsinyte bullets.
Esmyra raised her hands in mock surrender. “You caught me.”
The crack of a shot rang through the air, the flash bright against the fog. She dropped to the ground in a crouch, the bullet barely whistling past her cheek.
Her stare lifted to meet theirs, and the guards froze, fear evident in their wide eyes.
“Well, that was fucking rude.” As she moved to stand again, shimmering blades of liquid formed above each of her shoulders. Her power churned within her chest, her vision sharpening as her eyes shifted and exuded a silver glow. “Is that any way to treat a guest?”
One heartbeat passed.
Two.
And then she struck.
The guard who shot at her didn’t even cry out as the water-bladed dagger buried itself into the center of his chest, sending him crumpling silently to the ground.
The second man let out a scream as he watched his comrade fall.
He turned to flee, but Esmyra reached for him.
She grabbed his wrist and twisted, his weapon clattering to the stone as he yelped in pain and fell to his knees.
The second conjured dagger extended, its blade elongating into the shape of a sword as it hovered beside her. “Give me your ring,” she demanded.
Panting heavily, he spat at her feet. “Go crawl back to the hellish depths you came from, bitch.”
Esmyra merely lifted a brow and tsked. “No manners here, I see.”
The water-blade swung, slicing through armor, flesh, and bone as it cleaved through the man’s arm, removing it from his body. A scream of agony tore through the air as blood splattered and dripped.
Esmyra stared down at the man through narrowed eyes as she held his severed arm in her grasp.
She glanced from the man holding the nub of his limb and to the ring on his bloody hand she held.
She bent down to be at his level, and he shoved away from her, his armor scraping against the stone as he slid across the ground.
“Look at me,” she cooed, her voice holding the slightest hymn as she waved his own hand at him in greeting.
The man reluctantly obeyed as he slowly lifted his stare to hers.
Esmyra wasted no time as her eyes shifted. “You will remain silent for the evening. You will not call for more guards. You will stay and remain at your post as you are. Understood?”
“Ye-yes,” he stuttered out, his mind barely fighting her magic as he bled out beneath her. She knew he’d be dead by morning regardless.
The man rose to his feet, his back straight as he stood beside the side entrance to the castle. The faint drip of his blood echoed as it fell to the ground beneath his feet.
Esmyra stripped the ring from his finger and wrapped it in a cloth before sliding it into her pocket. She tossed the severed limb over her shoulder, and it landed with a fleshy smack a few feet behind her.
Might need this later, she thought grimly.
She moved past the man at his post, barely giving him another glance as she pushed the heavy door open just enough to slip inside.
The castle’s grand halls were eerily silent as they stretched before her, lit with golden chandeliers and lined with extravagant paintings.
The only sound was the distant crackle of torchlight flickering along the walls and the quiet dragging of her cloak as it trailed behind her.
It was quiet near the side entrance she chose. Entirely too quiet, but she assumed the castle was all near the throne room as their celebration came to an end. Perhaps if she could find her way to Elowynne’s personal chambers…
Her silver hair caught glints of moonlight filtering through the stained glass above. She ducked beneath an archway, slipping through a servants’ corridor before trailing up the staircase for several floors. Passing a few doors, she occasionally paused to press her ear to the wood.
Still nothing.
The castle corridor stretched ahead, and somewhere distant, a door slammed, followed by the stomping of boots. She rounded one more corner when someone screamed, “Hold!” The voice cracked through the hall like a whip.
Esmyra froze as two armored guards rounded the corner, the metal in their hands gleaming as they lifted their blades. The helmet for their armor hid their faces, but she could feel their eyes locked on to her.
“Well,” one of them said, voice smug beneath the helm. “Looks like the sea witch found her way—”
Blue light flickered across Esmyra’s eyes, and she never gave him the chance to finish his sentence.
Lightning burst from her palms in a blinding crack, striking his sword and racing down the metal. The guard screamed as the current consumed him, armor rattling, body locking, knees slamming into the floor before he collapsed in a smoking heap.
“Moron,” Kaelypso spat in her mind.
“Indeed,” Esmyra agreed, grinning.
The second guard recoiled, lifting his sword a little higher as his cheeks flushed a violent shade of pink.
Esmyra cocked her head to the side. “Are you scared, soldier?”
“N-no,” he stuttered as his grip tightened on his weapon. “You’ll pay for that!” he bellowed as he charged.
“Huh,” Esmyra whispered as she watched him move to attack. “Well, you will be.”
She ducked under the swing, rolling across the floor. The blade shrieked as it struck the wall where her head had been. She came up behind him, breath steady, power still crackling faintly along her skin.
But she didn’t raise her lightning again. Instead, her fingers curled, nails sharpening into gleaming black talons. A faint hiss slipped from her lips as she stepped in close.