10. Sybilla
Chapter 10
Sybilla
T he roads of Sahlmsara were enchanting by day, but they were downright mesmerizing at night. Golden lanterns hung in the air, held up by nothing but whatever charm allowed them to float and sway in the night wind. Rowboats lined the canals, charmed to carry passengers unmanned.
In the courtyard of Umber House, a quartet of brass instrumentalists played atop the low wall separating the space from the canals. People sat picnicking on woven blankets around the musicians, watching them play and throwing them coins. Elsedora went over to speak to a woman selling something on skewers and came back with one stick outstretched toward me.
“What do I do with that?”
She laughed before taking a bite of the meat off the stick.
Oh no —I couldn’t.
“C’mon. I know you’ve got to be hungry.”
I took the skewer stiffly and took a bite without letting anything drip onto the dress Elsedora had loaned me. It was chicken—in a savory, spiced marinade that hit my tongue with such a mouthwatering depth of flavor.
Some storefronts were closed for the night, but others had stayed open. The city bustled and came alive when the sun no longer accosted it. Elsedora grabbed my hand and pulled me along through the crowds. Despite my limbs feeling like stone and my longing for sleep, I couldn’t compel myself to take a break from exploring this wondrous city.
“Is it always this busy?”
“Most nights. In peak summer it’s quieter. The night heat is not as moderate then.”
We weaved through the market. Floating tealight candles lit the balconies above, revealing people sitting out and enjoying their wine and spirits. I would kill for a glass of wine.
“Do you have a favorite pub?” I asked, biting off more meat—from a stick! It was freeing to be so present with the people—to be on the ground with them, to experience the city as they did.
Elsedora looked downright devious. “Of course. Where did you think we were heading?” She released my hand once we’d made our way through the night market and the traffic was easier to navigate.
“Thank the Sources,” I breathed out. A drink would settle my nerves from having arrived in this strange, marvelous place.
She’d left me here.
Alone.
In a pub.
It had only taken Elsedora thirty minutes before getting distracted and chatting up a dark-haired man at the next table. She’d left on his arm, saying, “ This won’t take long. Promise. Stay put—drink, relax. ”
It shouldn’t bother me, but my shoulders tensed from unwanted gazes and my hands gripped my wineglass. The leather bench seat was slippery against the silk of my borrowed dress, and I felt far more exposed than I preferred even though the booth was in the corner.
The pub itself was a rather nice establishment for something named “The Royale Cock.”
I’d half expected Elsedora to take me somewhere with a rowdy crowd, sticky floors and ale-stenched air. Instead, colorful tapestries lined the walls—they illustrated some fairytales I recalled having heard as a girl, but all the characters looked red-eyed and drunk. The brown-speckled terrazzo tile floor was similar to Umber House.
The ceiling was tented with crimson curtains, and the flickering light of sconces dimly lit the space. Hanging in one corner, on a giant golden perch sat a taxidermy peacock.
Ah. That’s what the name was about.
I ran my fingers through my hair, not used to the silken texture or the lack of snagging. Maybe going and sitting at the bar, where a couple was drinking together, would feel less awkward. I’d never been out to a pub unaccompanied before…or to one ever. It would be an unsavory thing in Luz—a Queen in a pub.
It felt unnatural not to be trailed by a dozen guards.
I shouldn’t have suggested this.
Downing the last gulp of my wine, I decided that finding my way to Umber House wouldn’t be too difficult.
Before I could leave the booth, a man slid into the seat to my left, where I’d intended to move. I reared back into the cushioned bench.
“Excuse me. I was just leaving.”
“Why so soon? I haven’t seen you here before.”
He reeked of ale and sweat. He was somewhat handsome, but his predatory expression killed any interest and made my heart thump. “I’m meeting a friend,” I lied.
That was the wise thing to say, right? Someone waiting for me would deter him.
“I saw your friend leave a few minutes ago. Come on now. A pretty face like that shouldn’t be drinking alone. Let me get you another.”
Unsure of if he was a Source-wielder or if he would be able to tell if I slipped into his mind, I avoided doing so. If he felt me as Ryn had, it would only draw more attention to who I might be and could provoke him.
“I should really be going.” I began to scoot out of the booth in the other direction, only to meet a hard body on my right. It was as if he’d materialized out of shadows.
“She’ll be staying. You’ll be going. Unless you’d like those eyeballs that are undressing my guest removed.” Darvan-dick sat to my right with an arm slung behind me over the back of the booth. He looked unbothered despite the command in his tone.
“Yes, my King—my apologies.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to her for your unwanted attention . ”
Humiliation brought redness to the man’s face. His gaze landed between my nose and forehead.
“I’m sorry for my advances,” he grumbled.
Darvanda waved his hand as if to shoo him away, and the man quickly scooted out of the booth and rushed toward the front doors. The barkeep barked after him, “Oi, your tab!”
“What are you doing here?” I asked Darvanda, and despite his alluring spiced and smoky scent beckoning me closer, I slid left to put an arm’s length between us.
“I made a blood oath to let no harm come to you,” he said. “I may not like you, but an oath is an oath. I figured El would leave you for dead at the first whiff of debauchery.”
“Ah, so you’re here to moderate our fun,” I said.
“Would that have been fun for you?” He waved toward the door with his free hand, the other still lazily draped behind me but not touching me.
Refusing to look at him, I stared into my empty wine glass. “No,” I answered. Agreeing with him was painful. Truthfully, I was happy he’d intervened.
“I’m not going to tell you where to go or what to do in my city. But next time you want to go out drinking—bring Ryn. He lives for that doe-eyed adoration you give him, and he’s more reliable than El.”
“I am not ‘doe-eyed’ toward him,” I retorted.
Darvanda caught the attention of the barkeep. The man grinned at him, seeming proud to see his King in his establishment. Darvanda held up two fingers and pointed to my wineglass.
I glanced at Darvanda. “Wait, we’re staying?”
He shrugged.
Cleaned up and under the warm lamplight, his skin glistened with a thin glow of sweat. He’d shaved and the collared red satin tunic he wore dipped to reveal the hair on his chest. Even frowning and brooding, he looked attractive. In a frightening sort of way. Or maybe it was in an exciting way.
Now that was the wine talking.
“I’m surprised. You were eager to hand me off earlier,” I added.
Something akin to a grimace crossed his face. “I was tired, and you’re exhausting.”
Two glasses of wine were set before us. “Not the worst I’ve been called,” I mused.
He took a long drag of his wine, and his throat bobbed. He dipped his head, and when I followed his gaze, he was staring at the sleek hair draped over my shoulder.
“The curls suit you better.” He professed the unsolicited observation as though I gave a shit.
“Well then, I will have Elsedora iron my hair with that terrifying contraption every day.”
His gaze ran down me. For some reason, it didn’t bother me that he seemed to be assessing me. The wine hitting my stomach left me light-headed and relaxed.
“But that dress brings out your eyes.” His tone was flat, and he cleared his throat afterward.
“Thank you. They’re one of my better features.”
I let my head fall against the seat and loll to look at him, too tired to feel bashful about staring. I took another sip of wine, and he mirrored my movement.
My lips turned up at the sides.
“What?” he grunted.
“I think that may have been a genuine compliment.”
He shrugged. “I’ve never had any trouble recognizing beauty.”
“Are you calling me beautiful, Darvanda?”
“Yes. But you are already well aware of that.”
I covered my mouth so as not to spit out my wine. “You’ve got me pegged, huh? Self-centered, difficult, exhausting. It’s alright—we can hope for the sake of my people that beauty alone can win over a husband before Haward can step in and display my head on the gates.”
No… that was the wine talking.
I set down my glass.
“You are exhausting. But I am exhausted by most people. I said none of the other things.”
I sighed and shrugged. Our wine glasses were nearly drained.
“Finish that,” he said. “I have something to show you.”
“Why do I feel like this is your way of luring me into an alley to be rid of me?”
“Take your chances here then.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
We downed the final sips of our wine before Krait walked up to the bar and paid the tab—their coins looked similar to ours but were bronze instead of silver. I scooted across the slippery leather and stood. I was thankful for the flat velvet shoes Elsedora had given me. After weeks of not drinking any wine, two glasses was enough to make my head spin.
Fighting the fatigue of alcohol was simply an added obstacle. It was familiar territory—I was always tired. My body often rebelled against being awake. The buzz of liquor would dull the pain in my joints until the lousy morning hours.
I followed Darvanda outside, where the air surrounded me like a warm embrace. Light from the floating lanterns above blurred together in a glow as the wind knocked them from side to side. The night market vendors were beginning to pack up their carts and booths, using spells and charms to quickly stow goods into trunks and crates.
“This way,” Darvanda said as we walked further away from Umber House. It took nearly a half hour to reach what appeared to be the city’s edge. As we navigated down a trail, the lantern glow began to fade behind us.
“This trail is hard to navigate at night. Do you want a hand?” he asked. I found it oddly comforting that he’d asked instead of assuming.
I grasped his offered fingers, and he led us down into a dry wash. His hand was rough in mine with calluses from where one might hold a sword.
I joked, “Here lies Sybilla Wymark: She took the hand of her enemy.”
“I am not your enemy,” he ground out as we veered left around some low branches. Thorny trees grew denser in the riverbed, the water allowing life to thrive here even in the middle of the desert.
The rocky bank was steep, slick and smoothed, and his grip tightened. My ankles felt stiff and unreliable, and I was glad for the darkness that veiled my grimacing.
“Fuck!” My foot slipped on a smooth rock.
I squeaked as Krait pulled me upright and steadied me.
“You use such charming language.”
“Oh, please,” I huffed. I could hear a trickle of water now.
He let out a “hmph” in response.
If I squinted through the darkness, I could make out the glimmer of the riverbed below. “What do you need to show me in this death trap?”
He brought me closer to the wall of the canyon, and then guided my hand to press my fingers against the rock face. We were so deep in the wash that the walls surrounding the riverbed formed a cliff above us, blocking out the city lights above. I felt a rough line where the smoothness of the rock ended. “This is one of the reasons you’re here.”
“I’m here...to fondle some rocks in the dark with you?”
He let out a ragged laugh. “No...This is where the waterline used to be just a few years ago. This is my realm’s only water source, and it runs off the Hussa Mountains. We divert it to the canals.”
The warmth of his hand left mine, but I continued to feel the rough edge. My throat grew tight as I tried to determine how far we were from the trickling water below. Too far.
“You’re running out of resources.”
“Water is a pretty damn important one. Without it, immortals can sustain themselves longer than mortals, but not forever. Our population has thrived, but as our droughts grow longer with each passing year, that river runs lower. Soon the canals will be impacted. It will grow harder and harder to live here.”
He stood facing me, watching me. I could only see the outline of his features in the darkness. Standing here in a wash, shadows of sad bare trees above us, and nothing between us but our own breath and the trickling sound of a too-low river below, I began to understand the King of the Sahlms.
“How long do you have?” I asked.
“A few years, give or take. Then many will need to leave.”
I blew out a breath.
Darvanda shifted to lean against the canyon wall on one forearm.
“And where do I play a part in that?”
He wasn’t only aligning himself with me because of some silly power move. His people needed water.
A basic necessity. A right of all in Henosis.
He took a deep breath between his teeth as if it pained him. “You have connections in the North. Mattock senior long ago stopped corresponding with me, but his son, the boy you’ve been wrapped up with, might be willing to break down some of the dams. They prevent the full flow of water into our realm.”
I scoffed. “I can try. But that relationship is still...strained.”
“Then unstrain it. I thought you’d prove more useful.” His breath rustled the hair at my temple as he loomed over me, and his tone baited me.
I stood up a bit taller, not wanting to admit my alliances were weakened beyond repair. “Nothing I can’t fix.”
If this was what he’d brought me here for, it was best he didn’t think I was incapable of helping him.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Darvanda mumbled.
“You said one of the reasons. What are the others?” I rested against the rock face, my energy depleted.
He tipped his chin down—the moon’s light outlined the harsh lines of his face.
“Let’s see if you can accomplish this for me first.”
I ground my teeth. “I’m doing this for the people up there. You? You have nothing to do with it.”
“We’ll see.”
I huffed in frustration, feeling my brow pinch. “What makes you so sure I give two shits about what happens to you personally?”
He stared down at me, unmoved by my sharpness. “Your hastened breath. The way you look at me. It’s only a matter of time before you try to—how did you put it? ‘Fuck me or filet me’? It will be interesting to see which you attempt first.”
Stifling a growl, I turned on my heel and began climbing the rocky wash.
He was wrong.
Admitting your ancestors’ enemy was attractive was one thing. Warming your bed with them was another. That was a line that wouldn’t be crossed.
I knew he’d been trying to rattle me. It had worked.