33. Sybilla
Chapter 33
Sybilla
I woke up groggy and weak. My sweat had soaked the sheets—pooling at my hips. Wait…
Oh Sources. No.
The blankets around my bottom were far too wet to be from sweat alone. There was a brooding warlock snoring quietly in the armchair beside the cot. Those infuriatingly thick, dark lashes lifted as though he’d sensed me wake.
No, no, no.
“Get out!” I croaked.
Krait leaned toward me. “You’re awake.”
“Out!” I demanded again, mortification setting in that, at some point in my fever-riddled sleep, I’d wet the bed like a fucking child. I wore a different nightdress than I remembered having put on. That heated my cheeks—had he changed my clothes too?
He glanced down and seemed to notice the source of my embarrassment. “Oh.”
“Leave,” I groaned. I could feel the rash on my chest grow hotter.
Rising from the chair, Krait stretched his forearms behind his head. The flash of tight muscles of his abdomen was torture in my current state.
How dare he look attractive while I lay here, feeling like a sack of piss and sweat?
I was angry with him about something, but my thoughts were too jumbled to catch up. I took inventory of my surroundings—pretty landscape paintings of the Hussa mountains in the North Corridor hung from the walls, and a gilded vanity with lots of baubles and gems atop it sat in the corner. I thanked the Sources that the maids had brought up a cot and I hadn’t soiled El’s bed.
My curls had plastered to my forehead, and I felt too dizzy to rise. I probably looked as weak as I felt. And he had to go and look all…sleep-tousled and dreamy.
I definitely still had a fever.
It began to come back to me. I hated the King of the Sahlms. He’d intended to impregnate me and then discard me once he had his heir. He was an insufferable prick.
Yet I was too exhausted to discuss any of that.
“Sybilla, you are sick. There’s nothing to be—”
I cut him off. “Just let me clean up, okay? Go, please.” There was no fight left in me.
He shook his head again. “No,” he grunted as he drew closer. He pulled back the covers—his eyes never leaving mine—and I groaned. “You can’t even sit up. I’m taking you to the baths.”
I didn’t have time to argue with him before his arms were beneath me. My humiliation heightened as he drew me into his chest.
“You don’t have to—”
“Can you shut up?” he retorted.
I mumbled back, “Well, that’s more in character.”
“It’s just piss,” he noted as he headed for the door with me.
When I wrapped my arms around his neck to steady myself, he looked down at me with an expression that I couldn’t place at first.
Then it hit me. He was afraid.
I’d watched fear strike people thousands of times. But it was an odd reaction from a man I was convinced didn’t have feelings.
Letting my head fall between his neck and shoulder, I let him carry me through the halls. For as long as I could remember, no one had ever held me like this. I’d never have let them—not even Em.
We passed someone in the hall who he quietly instructed, “Bring some fresh towels and clothes down to the baths. And let the kitchen know to prepare some broth.”
My cheeks were now an inferno. I didn’t look up. Only when Elsie replied did I know it was her. “Of course. Is she alright?”
“I’m fine,” I groaned into the crook of Krait’s neck, wanting this mortifying interaction to end. I felt Elsie’s hand brush my back before she carried on away from us. I didn’t need everyone in the realm knowing that I could barely lift my head and that I’d soiled the bed.
Krait carried me down the steps to where the scent of bath salts and soaps coated the air. I could feel him kick off his boots before stepping into the lukewarm water.
I asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because I’d like you to stay healthy enough to keep fighting with me.”
“I can take you now,” I said, although it humored even me.
He let a throaty laugh escape him. “Is that so? I’d love to see you try.”
When I reeled back to look up at him, that hint of fear remained etched into his brow. He stepped down into the pool of water, soaking his clothing and my nightgown.
“Why are you afraid of me?”
He scoffed but avoided meeting my gaze. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
He sat down on the stone seat that was designed to bask on, with me across his lap. “I’m afraid I got too used to you running your mouth at me. And when you were too sick to do so, I felt helpless. Helpless enough to go to Mattock in order to understand what to do for you.”
I straightened. “You had no right. He doesn’t need to know the status of my health.”
Krait drew in a deep breath. “You were asking for him. I hated doing it as much as you hate me for it.”
I swallowed hard. Emmerick was often who I’d made the maids fetch when I needed to see Healer Mortag.
“I don’t hate you.” I desperately wished that I could hate him. “I need to wash off…away from you.”
“Let me help you,” he said as his hands moved toward the buttons on the back of the nightdress.
“Trying to undress me, Darvanda, like in your little fantasies?” I instigated, hoping for a cutting response.
“You just pissed yourself, Sybilla. A tryst is far from my mind.”
“What happened to ‘it’s just piss’?”
“Just stop moving already.” He worked on my buttons, and I slumped forward into his chest. The stubble on his chin tickled my temple.
It was possibly one of the most intimate things I’d ever let someone do for me—yet not an ounce sultry.
“All undone.” He helped me stand upright in the water, and I held the nightdress up to my front—not that it did much to conceal anything with the way it clung to me. His eyes didn’t wander; instead, they scanned my face as I stepped away.
Once I dipped deeper into the water, he lifted himself out of the pool. Pulling his soiled shirt over his head and tossing it into a sopping heap beside the bath, before he walked to the pool beside mine.
Then he stripped off his soaked linen pants.
My mouth went dry at the sight of his bare ass.
Absolutely shameless.
I tilted my head at the work of art that was the back of him—sculpted as though an artist had chiseled away meticulously to craft the perfect man.
Before he sank down into the water, he glanced over his shoulder, catching me staring. “Should we commission a portrait for you?”
My cheeks heated as he sank into the bath and then floated to the edge of the pool to rest his forearms on the colored tile between us.
“I must be gravely ill because it almost sounded like you had a sense of humor,” I bit back.
He smirked as though my cutting words brought him joy.
I turned away from him, pulled the soaked nightdress over my shoulders, and threw it down with a wet slap beside his discarded tunic. The small walkway between our pools created enough distance that my breasts weren’t visible below the water. I was thankful he couldn’t see me. In this state, I felt anything but alluring.
When I submerged my head, the salt and sweat leaving my face felt divine. When I reemerged, Krait’s hair was wet, too, and slicked back. I stepped to the edge between our baths and peeked over it.
Krait lifted himself onto his palms for a moment, snatched a square of soap from a basket and offered it to me across the divider. The wicked V-shaped dip of his hips made heat gather in my core.
I happily took the soap, distracting myself from my scandalous thoughts, and scrubbed myself from head to toe with the mint-scented bar. Maybe if I scrubbed hard enough, it might remove the grime of all my mixed emotions about the King in the next bath.
Ignoring the handful of hair that came out as I scrubbed, I relished the feeling of my fingers against my scalp. I’d made such a mess of everything—forcing his hand to uphold our betrothal, playing political games that now felt too large for me to carry.
“You said to me once that you didn’t understand who made me think they could put their hands on me without consequence.”
Maybe the ebbing fever had inspired me to speak. Or maybe I needed more clarity from him as to what he wanted.
If I went through with this marriage—what would it be like?
How would he treat me once he had everything he longed for under that prophecy?
He seared me with his gaze, forearms flexed on the edge of the bath, a thin wall of stone between us.
I continued, “My father was a merciful ruler in public affairs. He did not extend that mercy to his wife.”
Krait’s brow furrowed as he focused on my mouth, seeming angry at it. “And did he extend that mercy to you?”
“I was his only child, the future of his kingdom,” I tried to justify.
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
I sighed. “He never hurt me the same way he hurt her. At some point, he accepted that I would need to rule—and that prevented him from leaving marks where others could see them.”
Krait’s fingertips dug into the smoothed tile. His mouth drew into a flat line. “That isn’t acceptable.”
“Acceptable or not, he felt it justified. My parents tried and failed for the son that my mother hadn’t given him first. Each year that went by without a male heir, my father resented us more. I was never blind to the fact that he treated my mother poorly. He’d always implied that she had done something to deserve it—that she let other men into her bed, that she was not worthy of my respect either.”
For a time, I believed him.
Until the night before her execution, when he’d claimed to have caught her with another man. I knew she hadn’t left her room because she had been there with me and Healer Mortag. I’d been sick, much like I’d just been. My mother had urged me not to share my physical ailments with my father, so I’d said nothing.
Krait licked a droplet of water from his lips, drawing my attention. Damn him. His stare hooked mine with such intensity that I kept rambling.
“I look so much like she did. There were times I wished I wasn’t hers. Maybe if I’d been his bastard, then he might have loved me as I did him.”
Krait let out a frustrated sigh. “Some men aren’t worthy of their daughter’s love. If he was incapable of loving you, then he was a damned fool, but you were never the problem.” He turned his gaze away from me and ran his hands through his soaked hair, seeming nervous. “You understand that, right?”
I nodded. “I know that now. He was ill for nearly a decade before dying. I used to wish that his death would come faster. But when he finally died, it was still a blow to realize that I had no one left. My uncle wanted to crown one of his sons—Haward. So they, too, became my enemies.”
Standing taller, I unfurled my arms from where they’d instinctively wrapped around my top half in order to grip the pool’s edge.
I leveled a determined look in Krait’s direction. “I’ve been obsessed with securing the best alliances, leading me to agonize over every decision. It is particularly exhausting trying to convince every noble in your own court that you are better off alive. But I couldn’t fail. My father’s prophecies told of how Luz would fall, and I waited until the day came when Asterie wrote to me to act.”
Krait focused intently as I explained the prophecies I’d shown Asterie in the Luz crypts—the mad scribblings of my father’s final visions.
The Wastelands will be known to you…
He will rise and Death will reign…
War will be fought with shadows and light…
“Your father was an Oracle—was your mother also gifted with any Reverist abilities? Someone of Isleen’s blood would not only be an Oracle.”
“No. Just him.”
He hummed a response that was neither positive nor negative—a solid, comforting neutral that kept me talking.
“Hearing the thoughts of everyone around me helped me make calculated decisions and smooth over hard conversations. For a long time, my mind was just a useless cacophony until I figured out how to wield it.”
“Your mind is a beautiful thing.”
My brows rose at his words.
I expected him to be finished at that, but he continued, “And you are cunning and terrifyingly relentless.”
I scoffed. “Most men would not consider those good qualities.”
“Then you’ve been surrounding yourself with the wrong men,” he said as his gaze met mine across the pools.
“Are you implying that you are the right man? That I should roll over for you—bear the heir that you so desperately need and then be put down like a retired bitch afterward?” I argued. I couldn’t help it, even as I revealed my greatest wounds.
“You think I’m a monster, don’t you?” He shook his head, and only then did I notice the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Ask yourself—how much of that manifestation is truly about me ?”
It had only taken a short time for me to find myself infuriated with him again. I snapped, “Maybe I wouldn’t think you such a monster had you been upfront with me.”
“Right. As though that would have gone any better.” He ran a hand down his face as though I knew nothing. I knew a great deal about the workings of Kings who cared not for their consorts. I wouldn’t fool myself into thinking that a happy life by his side awaited me; we had a duty to the realms, not to each other.
Too tired to handle that line of conversation, I let myself submerge under the water again. All my breath left me in bubbles that tickled my cheeks as they rose. I stayed there for as long as my body would allow.
When I surfaced with a gasp, he had stepped out of the pool and was wrapping a towel around his waist already. Pity. I’d missed a good view.
He exited the baths momentarily before returning with divinely soft-looking clothing and a towel, which he set on a bench by the door.
“I’ll be outside,” he said with ice in his tone. The click of the door separated us.
Whatever fabric the breeches were made of was splendidly soft—it felt like butter against my skin as I slid them up my legs. The tunic Krait had left behind was loose-fitting enough to billow off me and smelled faintly like his pillowcases. I wouldn’t have been caught dead in such an ensemble in Luz.
Clothed and clean, I padded barefoot to the door. He was waiting on the stairs—well, napping. I studied him. Leaned back against the stone wall, in a black tunic cuffed to show strong forearms, and his skin still dewy from the bath, he looked like a fucking deity. The most peculiar thing was that his Shadows were cocooned around him like a shield.
Something warmed inside me to see him waiting there, too sleep-deprived to stay awake—all shadowy and sleepy.
I was definitely still feverish.
One wisp of a Shadow stretched out toward me. At first, I flinched, but then it wrapped around my hand and gently lifted my arm. It felt like a cool breeze over my wet skin.
I watched the darkness loop between my fingers.
“They like you—that’s unusual.”
I pulled my hand away abruptly and met Krait’s bloodshot eyes. “You fell asleep?”
He nodded. “I Shadowed across the realms last night. I’m still recovering.”
The thought of him depleting his energy tugged at my will to stay angry with him. “You didn’t have to take care of me. There are healers for that.”
He grumbled, “You scared mine away—she said you tried to bite her.”
“I would not!”
He smirked. “You didn’t. But I wouldn’t put it past you.”
I half-heartedly glared with a shrug. “I don’t think I’d put it past me either.”
He cleared his throat and said, “They’re having a fresh cot brought up to Elsedora’s room, if that’s where you’d prefer to rest.”
My cheeks heated. “Your bed is more comfortable,” I said as he offered me a hand to walk up the stairs. I reluctantly took it before muttering, “Darvan-dick.”
He leaned down and whispered into my ear, “You use the word dick around me far too frequently.”
I shot back, “You almost sound like that excites you.”
“Masochistically, it does.”
His fingers entwined with mine felt warm and steady. I wanted to keep thinking of him as my enemy, wanted to hate him for his intent to use me, and wanted to keep fighting him. But I was so damn tired, and the light of morning when we hit the landing reminded me that I needed sleep.
We rounded the hall to the bottom of the main staircase. I stared up, feeling hopelessly run-down. Those steps seemed equivalent to climbing the Hussa mountains.
I bit my lower lip, contemplating what would be worse—the stairs or admitting defeat. “Tomorrow, I’m going back to being livid about what you told me in the bell tower.”
“Yeah?” he asked with an intensity that unnerved me.
I nodded as we began climbing the stairs.
“What about after tomorrow?”
Why were there so many stairs in this house? “Then you’ll keep teaching me how to use my Reverist abilities against Caym. He has Em in his control, and I will consider whatever it takes to release him.”
Each step felt like a hammer against my skull, and I couldn’t help but wince and stop halfway up.
“And what are we to do now?” He steadied me as I wobbled.
“Now, if you’ve got the strength to, you’re going to carry me to bed because every part of my stupid body feels like it is swollen and has been run over by a carriage ten times and walking up the bath steps felt like three miles.”
He looked at me with a deep intake of breath. When he exhaled, it was as though all the hard lines of his face softened. He scooped me up like a child being carried off to bed, and I closed my eyes, trying not to revel in how good the weightlessness felt.
It was foolish.
Krait set me down just inside his bedchamber. The balcony door was open, letting in fresh air through the curtains.
“I’ll be right outside.”
“No,” I urged him.
He tilted his head, staring down at me with a creased brow.
“You have been up all night—sleep. It’s your bed.”
“I don’t think that—”
“Oh, shut up and get in bed,” I demanded before crossing the room and pulling the sheets down. I slipped beneath them and patted the place next to me. “You’ll need your rest for the fight we’re having tomorrow.”
He smirked. “I am only listening because you nearly died on me. Tomorrow , we are back to you not telling me what to do in my own house.”
Wrapped in soft silk sheets, I rolled over to face him as he lay down over the covers. Despite the growing heat of the morning, I’d never felt more comfortable than I did spun up in the cool fabric.
Krait lay on his back, but he looked toward me. I should not have felt safe, but lying there next to him, I did.
Still—he was the Shadow Origin. He had been plotting long before the moment he knew I was the Last Daughter of Isleen.
It would benefit me to remember that none of his intentions had ever been pure. When he finally closed his eyes, mine followed. While we weren’t touching, the rise and fall of his breath lulled me to sleep.
I awoke to the sound of clattering dishes. A form in a black robe with long dark hair poured tea into a cup at the desk across the room.
“Asterie?” I croaked before sitting up. My head pounded.
“Stay there, my Queen,” she said as she brought over a tray and set it across my lap.
The smell of fresh jam and bread made my stomach churn with hunger. An untouched bowl of broth that was no longer steaming sat on the bedside table.
“They searched me extensively. You’ve found quite a protective friend in that silver-haired warlock.”
Offering a weak smile, I added jam to a piece of bread. But my smile faded as I thought of the reason why my newfound friends had searched her.
“Emmerick—he is an envoy...”
Asterie nodded before taking my free hand in hers and sitting beside me. “They told me. He has not returned any letters from me, Fen or Amara. He lets no one in that castle to visit him. Not even Angeline or Leo.”
He wasn’t even letting his parents see him. My heart clenched, and my eyes snapped shut for a moment as I tried to settle the dizziness.
“Is Haward still advising him, and is he still allied with Bringham?”
Asterie nodded before she patted my hand. “Put that out of your mind for now. You need to rest—get strong for us. I brought more remedies from Luz.”
“How did you know I was ill?”
“King Darvanda came to us after visiting Emmerick. How long have you struggled with these spells?”
There was no use hiding from my all-knowing-owl friend; she would root out my truths one way or another.
I squeezed her hand. “I’ve always struggled with pain and inflammation. It began in childhood and worsened through my teen years. The healers…no one has ever been able to determine what it is exactly. I’ve been told my body doesn’t ward off illness the way others’ do. So, I’ve taken to ways of keeping the swelling and pain at bay. I’m fine—really. I just sometimes need a bit longer to get back on my feet.”
Asterie’s posture slackened as I revealed one of my most closely kept secrets to her.
“I’ve written to Healer Mortag’s family home in the South Corridor, asking him to send back instructions on how to make the usual tonics you take.” Asterie rubbed the ink where Van rested on her forearm. “You are sure you are safe here?”
I nodded. Surprisingly, there was no place I felt safer than under the surly King’s roof despite the truth he’d withheld, despite logic begging me to find more reasons to distrust him.
Asterie licked her lower lip, thinking, “I shouldn’t worry her now.”
“My friend...I am already worried that you are keeping things from me.”
Asterie sighed and said, “Fine...King Sheffield is missing.” Her unease leaked out of her. “He went for a morning ride along the beaches and never returned.”
I balked and tried to get up, but Asterie’s hand settled on my shoulder, pushing me back down.
“You have to rest . Let Fenris and I worry about this for now. Trust us to handle matters and keep you apprised.”
The South Corridor King was missing, and she wanted me to sit back and relax. With a huff, I let myself collapse against the pillows. I winced. My head throbbed, and I realized, much to my disappointment, that she was right. I’d be useless if I did not let myself regain strength. Being run down and incapable of holding my own head up wouldn’t do anyone any good.
“What have we heard from the Nadiars? Are they safe?”
Asterie smoothed the sheets at her side and said, “Yes, they have increased their flying guard at the East Palace. They are still steadfast supporters of Luz and your rule. With or without this betrothal. Sybilla, are you certain about this?”
“What better prospects do I have? Haward will come storming in for my head soon. And…there are other complications with ending the arrangement.” I still didn’t understand how I was supposed to wrap my mind around the prophecy—around Isolde’s wishes. Old hag, haunting me with a maternal expectation that was both alluring and terrifying.
“All I beg you to consider is that there are other ways we can remain allies with Sahlmsara—I need to understand that you know that.”
I sighed. “Not everyone finds their soulmate. Not everyone marries for love. You and Fen are a storybook example of something many of us will never find. I have a duty to the people I’ve sworn to protect...So yes. I’ll marry for political gain. I have very good reason to believe the King of the Sahlms will not harm me.”
My friend’s gaze narrowed. “If that is what you wish.”
It was what I wished for. Oddly enough.
“Let’s talk about how to address the troops on the borders of the East and Central Corridors.”
Asterie shook her head. “Absolutely not. Rest. Cassidee is working closely with the Nadiars. She has deep expertise with the East Corridor fleets, and the Nadiars respect her. You drink that.” She pointed to the bluebell vine tea.
My heart sang. She’d brought my favorite—I could kiss her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She rolled her eyes, but a hint of a smile cracked through her usual stone facade. “We’ll come to you if anything changes. No war has been declared. You have one of the strongest Constables looking after Luz. Restore your health. Think not of any of this until we meet again.”
“What else would I think about?”
I sipped my tea; it didn’t taste as full-bodied as I remembered. My illness must have taken my sense of taste.
My friend’s brow rose, and I could feel her bubbling amusement. “You’ll think of something,” she answered, crossing the room to the door. “Maybe plan your very real wedding? Maybe set a date?” Her tone was dry, but I knew she spoke in jest.
I grumbled a slew of curse words as she reached the door. There was nothing I hated more than being told to stay in bed. “Fine, but if anything changes in the realm, or if Sheffield is found, you are to come here with news immediately.”
Asterie nodded. “Of course.”
I waited for the soothing effects of the bluebell tea to take hold as they usually did and for my mind to quiet. No such luck struck me though, and I let the drink go cold in my hands.
Tea would not bring me clarity under these circumstances.