14. Sybilla
Chapter 14
Sybilla
W hen I awoke, the sun seeping through the curtains stung my eyes. Darvanda wasn’t in the room, and the cot was neatly made, as though he’d never slept in it.
I’d proposed to a man who did more grunting and growling at me than speaking. Yet, when he’d let down his mental walls the night prior, his intentions were clear. He wouldn’t let harm come to me—I didn’t understand why, but I didn’t need to so long as I dictated the conditions of our marriage contract. There wasn’t any rush.
Deep-crimson curtains hung from wooden rods, and the room was paneled and wainscoted in dark stained oak. My trunk of belongings had been hauled up and now sat on the far side of the room. I felt groggy as I rose, and it was tempting to curl back up under the covers and sleep the rest of the day away.
Instead, I padded with bare feet across the room and opened the trunk, searching for a vial before remembering they’d all shattered.
“Shit...” I said, blowing out a deflated sigh. I didn’t wish to bring attention to my health to any healer here. It was always tiresome to explain, and my weaknesses were my safely guarded secrets.
I would be fine for now.
“What was in the vials?”
I jumped. “Sources!”
The whole Shadow-roaming thing he could do gave me the fucking creeps.
He could be anywhere...
Darvanda stepped from the balcony. “Was it poison?”
“No,” I bit back. “And it’s none of your damned business what was in them.”
I’m betrothed to this man. My stomach turned at the thought—what was I thinking? Why had he agreed? He must have deemed water for his realm and reentry into Henosis worth shackling himself to me for the length of my mortal life.
He shrugged. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Shuffling through my trunk, I found my stationery box and pulled that out. “Like I was nearly strangled and killed last night. So, by all standards, wonderful. ”
There was a small, practical three-drawer vanity in the corner of the room where I set myself up to write Asterie.
He glanced over my shoulder for a moment before settling on the bench at the foot of the bed. I pretended he wasn’t there.
Gathering the parchment and ink, I noticed a crystal decanter of port and a glass on the desk. Might as well ease my nerves and headache. I poured myself a glass; my hands were still shaky, and I spilled some on the page.
“Shit...” I wiped it away with my palm.
I wouldn’t worry Asterie with what had happened or what I’d just agreed to. The letter was vague but reassuring .
It isn’t as awful as I imagined—charming even.
I ended the short letter with a promise to see them soon.
P.S. I have negotiated with King Prick to allow you and Fen to Egress in for weekly dinners so that I can advise you. More importantly—to speak amongst friends. I will send word when the Egress is built.
That was as much as I was comfortable sharing on paper.
“Your hands are shaky...were the vials some sort of drug you’re withdrawing from?” His shadow covered the page as he hovered behind me.
“For Sources’ sake, since when did you grow so fucking chatty?”
“Charming language.”
I snapped, “Then leave me alone if you don’t want to hear it.”
When I glanced over my shoulder, his jaw was tight. But the flicker of mischief in his iron eyes told me he had been ribbing me.
“Glad to see you’re in such a great mood. Now, seriously”—I shooed him toward the door—“I need to change.”
To my surprise, he listened. I looked back down at the page and began to fold it.
“You should go back to sleep, Sybilla. It was a long night,” he said, still leaning in the doorway.
Why was that oddly alluring?
His tone quickly changed from light to grave again when he added, “And you have men to question this afternoon.”
He didn’t wait for my response before closing the door.
Though I hadn’t meant to, I did end up back in bed.
I’d fallen asleep over the covers and awoke hugging a pillow. I hated admitting that the pillowcases smelled divine—like warm spice and smoke. It was an erotic scent that I would happily bathe in.
The weight of another on the bed next to me shifted my hip. I gasped, shooting upright.
“Woah, now,” Elsedora soothed. “I’m sorry to wake you. It’s past noon.”
She knelt on the bed beside me, hands clasped in her lap, looking like the saddest puppy I’d ever seen. Big hazel eyes glistened as she took in the ring of bruising on my neck.
I didn’t love being inspected for cracks, like a fine vase.
“Stop staring at me like that.”
“I left you—and then you were attacked.”
Lying back on my elbows, I narrowed my gaze at her. “You’re right...I’m unhappy you left me in that pub to fend for myself. But what happened last night had nothing to do with that.”
She shook her head. “I will work on being a better friend.”
“We’re friends? I don’t recall ever agreeing to that,” I teased with a smirk. It was nice having someone seem genuinely worried about me—flighty as she was.
Elsedora had a wild energy that made me feel like she would walk over flaming glass to keep someone she loved out of harm’s way. If she was around that day.
She scooted up and let herself flop down onto the pillows beside me.
“We might not be friends yet. But you had a part in bringing my brother back to me. You sent Asterie after him—I owe you more than being unreliable and horny. But we’d been traveling for so long...I had needs, ” she said as she threw her hands up toward the ceiling.
I tried to laugh but coughed instead. Recovering, I asked, “Was he worthwhile?”
“Not in the least.” She raised her eyebrows and tipped her head toward me. “He called out his own name when he reached release.”
“No...” I hurt everywhere and winced against my laughter.
Elsedora returned her gaze to the ceiling, smile fading. “I wanted to go down to the dungeon and play target practice with my daggers, but Krait wouldn’t let me—killjoy he is.”
Sobering from the humor of the moment, I realized that I still needed to know who wanted me dead this time. And I also could go for a cup of tea.
“Do you have bluebell vine tea here?” I asked Elsedora.
She scrunched up her nose. “You drink that? It tastes so medicinal.”
“Don’t judge my choice of tea,” I said as I gently smacked her arm.
“Well, no, I can’t say that grows here,” she contemplated. “I don’t know anyone who would put that in tea.”
I tilted my head. “My healer, Mortag, used to prepare it, with other herbs for taste; it’s good for inflammation.”
Elsedora, ever perceptive, narrowed her gaze. “Why would you need that?”
I stilled for a moment, realizing my slip. Elsedora had such a warm energy that it had just spilled out of me. I rolled my eyes, trying to think of a logical excuse. “What? Do immortals not get their cycles? It’s a painful business.”
At that, Elsedora shook her head. “Not typically after a female immortal’s hundredth or so year. It becomes much harder to conceive after that.”
“Why does it always have to be the woman’s scourge to bear?” I huffed. The thought of children sounded nice but only in the distant future. Yet my body would unjustly dictate the timeline for me.
She smirked. “It’s not impossible for us. But my birth was practically a miracle. My parents liked to joke that I was their ‘happy accident.’ Being a hundred years younger than your sibling has its challenges.”
“I can imagine. Especially when that hundred-year-older sibling is a dallying idiot sometimes.”
Elsedora nodded. “Most men are.”
That much she and I could agree on.
My heart tightened to think of the one man who had never wandered. I missed the feeling of his strong arms around me.
I feared his reaction when he learned that I was to be married to another. Again. He’d seen this play out, and I’d skirted the altar more than once.
Which begged me to consider whether I would be able to go through with it this time.