Chapter 8
Cyra
Dinner that evening was quiet. Bressen had tried to make an excuse to eat in his study, but I’d nixed the idea and insisted he come down to the dining room.
I chided him for trying to hide from Axenus and told him that if I had to face the merman, so did he.
When he remembered that eating in his study would leave me alone with Axenus, he relented.
Part of me wondered if Axenus himself would find some reason to avoid eating with us, but I’d underestimated him. He entered the dining room shortly after we did and gave us a polite, if brief, greeting.
Thankfully it was just the three of us, since Surgeon and Serise were still out looking for Samhail and the assassin.
Bressen and I had clearly both forgotten Axenus was in the house earlier.
Bressen had been sending him on occasional trips to speak to other lords and rulers, so the merman was often gone nowadays.
When Bressen had told me to run, I’d remembered that the three gargoyles were gone, and I’d just assumed Axenus was away as well.
I considered trying to make small talk while we ate, but in the end, I just didn’t have the energy. It was a victory for now that me, Bressen, and Axenus could at least sit in the same room with each other after this afternoon. Tomorrow we’d work on looking each other in the eye again.
Or perhaps in a few days, since I learned the next day that Bressen had sent Axenus on another trip to Kern after all.
He’d been waiting to hear from Kern about getting an audience with their Primus – the Kernish name for the king – and the country had conveniently responded late last night to invite Axenus to the palace.
I felt Bressen’s relief when he told me. Maybe a few days away from each other would help ease the awkwardness between us and Axenus.
Bressen had a trip of his own planned to Callanus.
As the most senior member of the Triumvirate, there were certain duties at the Citadel that fell to him, especially given that Aidan was new, and the High Council of Polaris had no standing in the Triumvirate.
He was the only one who could handle some of the mundane business that was necessary to keep the capital city and the country running.
I decided to forego my daily trip to the new vineyard and go with him. I’d hired some staff at the vineyard to help me out, including a manager, and she was quickly proving herself extremely capable, so I felt confident leaving things in her hands for a day or two.
In truth, Bressen and I both needed to be near each other after the incident in the great room. We always gravitated toward each other after sessions of especially rough sex anyway, but we’d been denied our chance to reconnect emotionally when Axenus had accidentally interrupted us.
I knew Bressen felt guilty for how he treated me when he took me hard, and he tried to make up for it by being extra attentive and affectionate afterwards.
For my own part, I needed to be near him to assure myself he really did care for me.
It was as if we stretched ourselves so far in one direction that we needed to spring to the other extreme before we could return to normal.
Unfortunately, while we were at least in Callanus together, Bressen was currently locked in a meeting with his advisors and the Citadel’s steward, so I wouldn’t see him for a couple hours. Instead, I was in his library trying to be useful.
Bressen had asked Axenus to research the religious wars that had ultimately led to the breakup of the continent into separate countries centuries ago.
He hoped we might learn more about syphons and the continental triumvirates.
The merman hadn’t had much chance to look with his travel schedule, though, so I’d decided to start on it for him.
Bressen’s librarian had managed to get the library back in order since I’d destroyed it several months ago.
Well, not destroyed it per se, but every book had come flying off the shelves the last time I was here when Samhail had tested me to see if I could use his summoning power.
That I had been able to use it was some of our first evidence I was a syphon.
The librarian, an older-looking man with gray hair and a long gray beard remembered me well enough. His cool demeanor when I asked for books on the history of the religious wars told me he likely hadn’t forgiven me yet for what I’d done to the library.
Still, he brought me about two dozen books he thought might contain relevant information, and they now sat stacked on the table in front of me. I was only halfway through the first one, and my eyes were already starting to glaze over.
I blew out a long breath and flipped another page. I liked to read, but Protector save me, this was going to take forever. There had to be an easier way to find the information I needed.
As soon as the thought entered my mind, I felt a twisting tug in my chest, and my eyes flared at the feeling.
I realized a moment later I’d felt that tug before.
Weeks ago, I’d syphoned the ability to find something I was looking for from a priestess at the Priory – seeker power – and that tug was the power trying to lead me to what I sought.
Gods above, could it really be that easy?
I closed the book I was reading and stood.
The tug pulled me toward the door, and I left the library.
I turned left down the hall, following the tug’s urging, and it led me toward the stairs.
I descended, letting my mind go blank as I gave myself over fully and trusted the magic to guide me to what I needed.
I didn’t bother to question it when it led me out the front door of the Citadel, down the stairs, and straight toward the main gate.
“My lady?” one of the guards at the gate questioned as I approached.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to risk breaking the connection or losing my direction. My mind and body were focused on following the magic.
“My lady, where are you going?” another guard asked me, trying to step into my path, but I put a hand out and sent a gentle forcefield to push him back out of my way as I stepped through the gate and out onto the street in Callanus.
Straight, the magic told me. Go straight.
Instinctively, I knew where it was taking me. A little ways across the city stood the radiant white walls and minarets of the Priory, and I walked toward them, barely aware I’d stepped out into the street into traffic.
A strong hand yanked me back just before I stepped in front of a team of horses drawing a wagon of goods toward the market.
“My lady!” the guard who’d grabbed me yelled, panic lacing his voice. “What are you doing?”
“I need to go to the Priory,” I told him.
“Now?” he asked.
“Now,” I confirmed, and I stepped into the street again, this time checking for any vehicles coming my way.
“You four, go with her!” the guard ordered, addressing several of the men at the gate. “If something happens to her, Lord Bressen will have our heads on spikes lining the wall.”
I heard the sounds of rustling and clanking behind me as a number of guards surrounded me. They stopped traffic in the street to shepherd me across as my feet carried me forward of their own accord, the tug in my chest pulling me along as if I were a fish on a line.
My steps were brisk as the guards hustled to keep up with me. Two pushed ahead of our group to part the crowd in front of me while the other two flanked me and brought up the rear to guard my back.
I had no concern anyone might actually hurt me. Indeed, most people bowed low or dropped to a knee before me as I passed, and the din of the street quieted into a curious murmur as people watched.
I felt a spike of hostility in my mind as someone in the crowd objected either to my presence or to how the guards were shunting people aside, and I heard a shout and a scuffle behind me as the guards reacted to a potential threat, but I never broke stride.
Each step toward the Priory felt more urgent than the last, and soon I was climbing the wide marble stairs to the entrance of the city’s main temple.
I stopped suddenly in the middle of the stairs, and there was a string of whispered swears and clanking behind me as the guards who followed me tried to pull up short to keep from running into me.
Something else had pulled at me all of a sudden, but I wasn’t sure what until I looked up and saw…them.
Stone-carved gargoyles – not real ones like Samhail – lined the parapets around the roof of the Priory and perched at the tops of its three minarets. I’d always known they were there, but I’d never taken the time to look at them until now.
The gargoyles were made of light gray granite, so they stood out against the gleaming white marble of the Priory’s fa?ade, but they looked nothing like Samhail.
At least not from what I could see down here.
Most sat on their haunches as they surveyed the city almost lazily, many looking like hairless dogs or ape-faced demons.
None of them captured the sense of latent danger Samhail exuded even in his human form, the promise that one wrong move might unleash the violence barely contained below the surface.
The statues were grotesque, designed to be frightening or disturbing as a warning to enemies of the Trinity, but they were a mockery of the majestic menace Samhail wore like a crown.
Their postures and expressions didn’t remotely harness his lethal grace, which still sometimes sent a shiver through my body, despite how well I knew him.
I knew Samhail hated these gargoyles, but I didn’t know why. I didn’t need to know, though, and one of these days, I’d make sure the gargoyles were taken down and smashed to rubble, just for him.