Chapter 3 #3
“Yeah, that was amazing.” Fingers tracing a rune, Teyla brightened, seeming to forget her discomfort.
Of his own accord, Fel had stepped away, remaining in the area so that he could protect Syla but not insisting on being a part of the conversation.
Syla thought he gave good counsel, even if he was as protective as a nanny with a squadron of five-year-olds, and wouldn’t have minded including him, but she didn’t want her cousin to feel stifled.
With time, they would hopefully work things out.
“You were directing those, right? Telepathically?” Teyla looked at her. “The projectiles struck with great precision.”
“I was, uhm, willing them where to go, I guess you’d say. There wasn’t any means of targeting things other than that.”
“It was effective. What an amazing gift from the gods. I’m so glad we found it.”
“Me too.”
A book open in her hand, Tibby walked around the platform, holding her lantern up to various runes and murmuring to herself.
Teyla waved for Syla to join her on the platform, then whispered, “My menses came.”
Syla blinked. Even though she and her female colleagues at the temple had shared such information from time to time, she couldn’t remember discussing such things with her cousin, who was usually so busy studying, writing papers, and practicing swordsmanship that she could hardly be bothered with noticing.
But the relief in Teyla’s voice clued Syla in that more than a desire for commiseration about cramps prompted the statement.
“I trusted the yerathma root you gave me would take care of it,” Teyla said, still whispering, “but I wasn’t entirely certain.” She sent the briefest of glances toward Fel.
“Oh,” Syla said with new understanding.
“I would like to be a mother one day, but not because of weird cactus flowers. And not with—” Teyla waved toward Fel. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with your bodyguard—he seems very qualified and dedicated—but you know.”
“Yes.”
“I like muscles and don’t mind an older man, but, er, you know.” Teyla’s cheeks reddened, and she looked away from Fel and Syla as well. “Not that much older, even if he was, er, decent. I mean, kind of good, all things considering.” Teyla bit her lip.
“I’m glad it wasn’t an entirely loathsome experience,” Syla said, though the last thing she wanted to discuss was her bodyguard’s sexual prowess.
“It was surprisingly not, but I’d want the father of my children to be…”
“Married to you? Of the proper station?”
“More likely to read books than eat them.”
“I haven’t observed Fel noshing on the pages of my tomes,” Syla said dryly.
“I suppose not, but he’s not the scholarly type. Anyway, I’m not looking, regardless. I’d love to be a mother someday and take my children on digs and teach them all about ancient civilizations, but I’m not ready yet. So thank you for the root.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve taken to carrying it in my first-aid kit as well as consuming vynglar tea regularly since I’m not ready for motherhood either. I’d like for there not to be assassins after me before I consider that.”
“Once things settle down, I hope you will consider it though. Have lots of children. Then I won’t have to worry about being an heir and what would happen if you died. Relvin would probably assassinate me to make sure I don’t make moves on the throne. As if I want that. It sounds awful.”
“I always thought so,” Syla murmured, still numb from the loss of her mother and siblings and being in a position she’d never expected nor wanted.
It was so strange that she was fighting to be queen and rule the Kingdom.
Already, she missed the days of being a simple healer.
No, a good healer. Thanks to her gods-gift, she’d brought people back from the brink of death and healed others of illnesses that wouldn’t have been curable without magic.
“Oh, I have something for you.” Teyla snapped her fingers and dug into the pack she’d brought out. It had appeared to contain mostly books, but jars clinked when she rummaged. “You remember that I foraged a few items from the laboratory before we left, right?”
“I think when you’re removing items from shelves, it’s called pillaging, not foraging.”
“Not when the items were left there centuries ago by a mad god who created beasts that like to eat humans. Really, the term should be liberating.”
“Archaeologists have a unique way of looking at the world, don’t they?”
“We’re fascinating people. Some of the jars contain medicinal substances that are hard to find. Are you interested?”
“Yes, please.” Syla leaned forward with curiosity.
“This one has a substance that I don’t believe is medicinal, but you’d probably know more about all the various uses than I. I just know that hydras are extinct.”
“Hydras?” Syla peered at a dusty blue jar not much larger than a vial, runes carved into the front to label its contents. “Oh, hydra-scale powder?”
“That’s what it says, yes. I translated the runes on several of these. That one is interesting because—”
“It induces a desire to tell the truth. People in ancient civilizations wrote much about how handy it was for questioning enemies.”
“Yes. I thought you might use it for the same purpose.” Teyla handed it and several other jars to her, then waved vaguely toward the city and the island beyond the castle walls, probably suggesting the greatest danger came from ambitious Kingdom subjects rather than the stormers or other distant enemies.
“It might come in handy. Thank you.”
“I think to activate the weapons platform,” Tibby said, a book open as she stopped beside them, “you press your hands to those marks. They’re the right shape and invite touching, do they not?”
“Yes.” Syla set the jars aside in a safe spot. “That’s what I did before to prompt it to hurl projectiles at enemies.”
“Well, don’t hurl anything here.” Tibby pointed her book toward the courtyard walls. “Think about establishing a connection, such as when you mind-link with someone, and will the platform to come out of dormancy.”
Syla had only mind-linked once, and Tibby had initiated it, but she nodded, believing she understood the gist. Teyla scooted off the platform to make room, and Syla took a deep breath and stood, stretching her arms between two posts and resting her palms against the cool marble.
Immediately, magic buzzed appealingly against her skin, as if the marble had been eager and waiting for her touch. A silver glow flared around the edges of her hands and fingers.
“Is that all I needed to do to activate it?” Syla asked.
Tibby responded, but surges of power swept from the posts and up Syla’s arms, making her gasp. The energy went through her shoulders to her spine and up into her head, and blackness blanketed her eyes as it overwhelmed her. The last thing she was aware of was crumpling onto the platform.