28. Sybilla
Chapter 28
Sybilla
D ear Sybilla,
Sheffield and the Nadiars have sent letters agreeing to open their cities as a haven for Source-wielders to reenter, effective immediately. They state: “We do this in support of Queen Sybilla Wymark of the Central Corridor’s long reign; we do this for unity and a prosperous future for our realm.” All that will be required is proof of identity upon entry for appropriate record keeping. The use of magic within their borders is still, unfortunately, illegal under Henosis law. Changing that will require the agreement of all ruling parties.
It seems that not all is lost—but I brace you for the next news.
In response, Emmerick and Bringham made hostile moves this week, positioning troops along the northeastern and central borders. They have decreed that anyone from the Wastelands Sahlms setting foot on their land would be an act of war. The only safe travel routes are by Egress to the East, South or Central Corridors directly.
I hope you are well. I apologize in advance. Van dug up your rose bushes.
With love,
Asterie
I stared at the documents she sent along with the letter that committed to allowing Source-wielders access to more than half of Henosis. It wasn’t enough. Why shouldn’t they be allowed to use their powers within our realm?
I set Asterie’s letter down. With a wince, I pulled on my leathers and a thin cream tunic. Inevitably, when Krait heard this news, there would be that clench in his stupidly handsome, chiseled jawline.
When I opened the bedchamber door, Ryn stood outside, fist raised as though he were about to knock. “Ready to get your ass kicked, Princess?”
I greeted his mile-wide smile with one of my own and nodded. “ Today is the day I best you, friend.”
My body felt like an unoiled metal gate, and I doubted my words.
My training sessions with Ryn and Krait had done nothing to help my growing pain. They’d begun drilling me on disarming them with my mind. Ryn ruthlessly teased me about my swordsmanship, which, admittedly, was not my greatest strength.
We were in the amphitheater, a place on the northern edge of the city where theater productions often put on shows. The space was empty today besides us. Thousands of marble seats towered around us as we stood in the “pit,” an oval dirt arena below the upper stage.
I’d gotten Ryn to drop his sword twice out of my countless attempts, and Krait not once. There had been no moment of clarity like I’d felt over the gameboard, just roiling wild power that I had little control over.
While my body revolted, my mind felt strong. If I could just pinpoint how to wield it, then I’d be devastating.
“Again,” I panted and lifted the wooden sword at Ryn, preparing to block.
Ryn shook his head. “That’s enough—you look like you’ll fall over if I strike again.”
I probably would fall over. It was becoming my new go-to move, and my whole body trembled from the day’s effort and the heightening heat of the late morning sun.
Krait watched us from a metal gate, where he was leaning with one foot up behind him on the steel. He scowled, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed how my legs wobbled beneath me. As predicted, the news from the Corridors had not sat well with him.
I growled a curse under my breath, but kept the sword raised. “Come on, Ryn. Will Caym or his envoys give me breaks just because I am tired?”
“She has a point,” Krait chimed in. “How about you Source-wield at her instead?”
I glared at him, and he responded with a slight lift at the corners of his mouth. Prick.
Ryn blew silver hairs from his eyes, and pointed the wooden sword at my head. “I am not Caym,” he responded. “And if I were, you’d be dead by now because you are shit with that sword and shit at disarming us.”
The Prince formed a white orb in his palm, bright as the moon itself, only condensed and ebbing. He threw it up playfully once before chucking it at me.
Using my moment of distraction as I ducked, he charged, his sword outstretched.
His diversion worked to set me off balance. But I channeled my rage and found the thread of his mind that would allow me in. Weaving around the places I knew he could detect me, I struck at the back entrance to his thoughts.
“Sources!” He braced against it, but his weapon fell from his hands and every muscle in his body froze mid-charge. He grimaced, trying to escape my mental attack. I had control over everything. Every one of his senses and actions.
Light formed in his palms. Ryn’s eyes widened as he turned toward Krait and threw two beams of white light toward him. Krait straightened and quickly outstretched his hands. Shadows consumed the moonlight. Ryn’s power surged through me. I felt drunk off it—a fun sort of wine drunk.
“The fuck, Ryn?” Krait growled.
Ryn managed to cut through my hold on him enough to say, “It wasn’t me!”
I smirked. “I don’t need to be good with a sword.” When I dropped my mental hold on Ryn, he sank to his knees, and I stumbled to mine next to him.
Sources, that took so much out of me, but it felt divine.
Krait approached us as Ryn looked over at me with labored breath.
“You’re terrifying.” Ryn shook his head with a smirk. “I tried my hardest to fight you.”
“Good,” I said, shifting my weight to one side, wanting to lie down right there in the sand and sleep. Fatigue tugged at me. I felt like a rag doll. But without the tonics and mind-clouding remedies, my mind’s abilities thrived.
How long could I maintain this without breaking?
If anyone had noticed my movement growing stiffer, no one had said anything. Some days, it hurt just to put weight on my feet. On other days, my finger joints felt like rusted hinges.
“You wielded another’s Source power,” Krait drawled, finally seeming impressed.
I nodded and took a swig from the canteen I kept at my waist before sitting back on my heels.
“It offends me that you seem so surprised.” I finally let my ass collapse into the sand.
Ryn did the same beside me, and my head fell onto his shoulder.
“Carry me back to Umber House?”
Ryn chuckled. “No way—I don’t want to be Shadow pulp.”
I waved up at Krait. “Him? Why would he care?”
Krait crossed his arms, glaring down at us like we were an inconvenience despite the fact he chose to be here.
“Because of that look,” Ryn teased.
I snuck into the King of the Sahlms’ head. His thoughts wandered to carrying me back to Umber House himself and then down into the underground baths. He imagined flashes of peeled fabric and revealed flesh.
For once, the heat offered me a reprieve; there was no way in the realms I wasn’t deeply flushed from having intruded on the fantasies in that man’s head.
So he wasn’t as unimpacted by that encounter in the library as he’d been pretending. I could use that.
“You look like shit,” Krait said. Pleasant. “Take tomorrow off from training. I have business to attend to with the lords and will be back late.”
I searched his stare and then lifted my chin toward Ryn, who shook his head, unwilling to disobey his King’s order. “Fine… I will occupy myself then. Maybe with a nice, long soak in the bath. Alone. ”
Ryn appeared, rightfully, confused, but Krait’s brow quirked up with interest.
“You do that,” he grated out.