Chapter 38 #2
Her fingers tightened over a rough aquamarine—the same color as her powerful irises. “For Zuriel.”
Because her husband, the male she loved with a fierceness I envied, was out there, fighting this war.
Guilt gnawed at me. I could have been using my gift to help him. But instead, I had just eaten a dose of herbs that would prevent the Goddess from delivering me a prophecy.
I was so fucking selfish.
The Korona spoke to us again, but her words drowned in the tide of my self-loathing.
The lights dimmed, then stuttered out completely.
A footstool rested in front of me since I couldn’t bend my injured knee—at least not for the endless hours spent in this chair. The other, I tucked beneath me. My shoe dug into my thigh, so I plucked it off and placed it on the floor.
But I still couldn’t get comfortable. A servant appeared in the darkness, bubbles of light framing her head to guide her way, with an armful of pillows and blankets. Wordlessly, she padded the space around me. My bones sighed their relief as I sank into them, drawing comfort at last.
Then, she fanned me with a large palm. The breeze was welcome as smoke filled the room.
“Can I have something to spit in?” I whispered to her. She nodded, fetching a porcelain bowl for me.
I wasted no time expelling the sense-opening herbs, unable to stand their taste any longer. Sipped water did nothing to banish the flavor either. Suppressing a groan, I settled back, trying to direct my mind on something, anything, other than my current suffering.
Someone in the distance whimpered. I shot up in an instant, searching for who had made the noise. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck as the female a few places down from me twisted in her crystal chair, nails raking down her face and leaving red welts in their wake.
“Try to relax,” the female cooling me murmured. She increased the pace, air brushing over my skin and drying sweaty strands of my hair.
Body coiled tight, I sank back onto the pillows. Yet I couldn’t force myself to let my lids drop. I glanced at Heraphia, sitting in perfect meditation posture. Her keeper was poised, charcoal on parchment, for her to utter a word.
The Korona paced the length of the aisle of chairs. I tracked her movement, glancing away every time she was seconds from turning her head in my direction.
On her next pass, I forced my eyes closed, if only to hide from her piercing gaze.
An hour passed. Another. It felt like years with how forcefully my heart thundered against my ribs, never ceasing its squall.
“Would you like to try something else to See?” my attendant murmured.
“Perhaps a stone,” I told her. That seemed less risky.
The breeze stilled around me as she disappeared to fetch me the object. I opened my palm to receive it when she returned. A heavy weight pressed into my hand, and I brought it to the center of my lap.
I tried to sink into a trance to pass the time. Yet the deeper into meditation I went, the more my mate surged. Every moment with him flashed like strikes of lightning. A soul deep ache shallowed my breath.
At least he’d protected me.
He was showing me he cared…
But that didn’t change our circumstances. I was a prisoner. He was betrothed. He didn’t seem to be in a rush to change that either.
Why did I care so fucking much? I kept telling him I loathed him, I didn’t want him.
Our last few days on the road had altered that for me. And I couldn’t bring myself back to the moments after our bond had solidified.
Hate. Love. They were one and the same.
I didn’t love the Issaraeth; it was simply the undeniable pull from our fated connection. The Goddess might have bound us, but She didn’t have the power to force me to feel what I did not.
A scream shredded the smoke and silence.
That same female who had whimpered earlier had burst off her chair.
People surged toward her as she bucked on the ground.
Vomit spewed from her lips, all over a woven rug.
Her eyes rolled back into her head, lapis irises completely disappearing.
She collapsed onto her side, tremors wracking her body.
Horror rooted me to my seat.
“Someone get her in a hot bath!” the Korona shouted.
Two Sightkeepers rushed to hoist her, their white armor gleaming as light expanded in the space. But at their touch, she thrashed like a wild beast.
“Stop them! Make it stop!” Her shriek raised all the hairs on my arms. Nails clawed at her face.
Heraphia’s breath hitched, but she didn’t move from her cross-legged position. “They need to restrain her.”
“Aye,” her keeper agreed, palm waving in a steady rhythm like someone wasn’t convulsing right in front of us.
“What is happening?” I asked, unable to look away as a third male came in to capture the Seer’s hands.
“She is dying,” my attendant murmured with a finality that landed like a lightning strike.
No one was in a state to receive a vision any longer, every person in the room focused on the female.
I didn’t even learn her name.
Her body gave one more violent jerk, blood spraying past her lips, and then she went limp.
The Korona rushed to her side, placing hands on either side of her head. “Fuck!” she screeched, spinning on her heel and stomping a few feet away. “I couldn’t snatch whatever she Saw.”
Anger boiled in my veins. This Seer had just burned out and the Korona was more upset that she couldn’t discern her last vision? I started to rise from my chair, but a slap of white shoved me back.
“Don’t, Sylaira,” Heraphia warned, her ethereal magic winding around me. Almost like a hug, if one could call restraint anything kind.
Tears pricked my eyes as I whirled on her. “How are you okay with this?”
Her shoulders slumped inward, and she sighed. “It isn’t the first time I’ve witnessed a death.”
“How many?” The words bit out of me. I had to know. Had to understand how cruel the rulers of our realm were. I thought we were supposed to be prized pets, but it seemed we were merely cattle whose output was far more important than our lives.
“I lost count.”
That promise I’d made to myself all those weeks ago returned.
That someday, I’d have power, real power, and I’d be the storm the crown feared.
Perhaps in the wreckage of who I used to be, I’d find the female capable of changing the path of the realm.
Because this? This was insanity. Unacceptable.
And I wouldn’t stand for it.
Bile crept up my throat. My scribe offered me a glass of water. I accepted it with shaking hands. A few sips settled my stomach.
Yet it didn’t temper the maelstrom brewing inside me.
Others who had been here much longer than me were already returning to their magic. The Korona had disappeared, along with a handful of others, to dispose of the dead Seer.
At least she’s no longer here to watch over me.
Because I wasn’t certain the thunder in my heart wasn’t also visible on my face.
The rage.
The indignation.
How fucking dare they treat us like this? Treat Zuriel and all the other soldiers like we were disposable?
I stewed in that thought, not even trying to calm myself.
And yet, I knew I had to at least pretend to have a vision. With nearly everyone else having offered something, it would be suspicious if I—the only one in the room with irises the color of glaciers—Saw nothing.
So despite the deluge of emotion, I forced myself to meditate again. To go through the motions. To protect myself.
Beside me, Heraphia started muttering in the low, monotone voice I recognized from countless times I’d witnessed the Goddess yank on her power and offer her a glimpse of the future.
The words were indecipherable.
Fuck. I’d been hoping for a starting point to offer something useful, albeit false. The Korona hadn’t given us enough information at the start either.
I could always ask the Issaraeth.
The idea was a good one…but that meant I’d have to initiate a conversation with him. And after everything I’d thought about today, I wasn’t sure I could stop talking to him after that.
The memory of his lips against mine heated my low belly.
I’d never faced battle—only Seen glimpses of them. But what I had with the Issaraeth felt like waging war. Strategy was a necessary component in our interactions.
Especially because I seemed to have a penchant for drawing a hard line between us, only to blur it by stepping across again.
Reluctantly, I lowered my walls.
“Vaeron?”
He appeared in an instant. “Sylaira.”
Even in my mind, the way he said my name rolled a shiver down my spine. “I need to pretend to have a vision.”
“So you need my help to provide a believable one.”
I paused, hating that I had to admit it. “Yes.”
An eternity passed. Was he even going to answer me? Or was this part of his plan, to leave me hanging after giving me virelthorn to suppress any possibility of a prophecy?
“I would never do that to you, mate. One day, you will believe me. One day, you won’t think the worst of me at every opportunity.
” The sorrow in his tone was impossible to deny.
“Tell them you Saw an army of Demons marching into the desert. Make the numbers sound enormous. Far more than we have in our forces.”
I swallowed, fear sluicing through my veins. “Is that truly what is happening?”
“I believe so.”
“What will happen if I relay this information?”
“Does it matter? You won’t have to See it. You’ll be safe from Iaoth’s suspicions.”
He had a point. And yet, that would likely mean the Angel army would have to swell its forces. Which meant more people would die.
And their blood would be on my hands.
But what choice did I have?
“Thank you.”
“Can I escort you to the healer today?”
My teeth worried my bottom lip. “Yes.”
It was a dangerous, dangerous acceptance. But after his actions…I couldn’t stay away.
“I will see you soon, Sylaira.”
And then he was gone.