Chapter 32 Solace
Chapter Thirty-Two
Solace
Parchment rustled and cracked as I thumbed through an endless stack of maps detailing Samyr and Lishahl. The latter was stolen by Razia; a gift to aid me in my conquest and tide me over until he could deliver the real present.
A present that was seemingly farther from reach with each passing day stuck in this godsforsaken city.
It was late; the time of night where the sky is blackest, nearly expunging even the brightest star from the sky. My brother may have resembled the obsidian darkness, but I always felt more comfortable under cover of night.
No one was awake at this time, and I relished the utter stillness, the silence that hung between each of my quiet breaths. There was no Sasori here to hound me about trivial matters, no brother to harp upon the importance of finding the artifacts, and no Razia to snivel beneath my feet.
The fire popped and crackled as I stared into it, hands pressed firmly against the large wooden desk that dominated the majority of the space.
Weapons of ages past filled shelves where I originally expected books to rest. It was clear, though, after weeks with the Samyrians, that they valued brute strength over anything else.
A value that would be an asset if I ever had the opportunity to actually deploy my military.
I sighed and pushed the papers away, disgusted with the lack of action. A few fluttered to the ground, but I had neither the desire nor the energy to stoop to gather them from the floor.
What use was a map if I had no intel to guide my hand? No actionable plan to eradicate my enemies?
A growl escaped my throat just as the doors to the study opened.
I tensed as the hinges creaked, calling my Air Magic forward until it spun in a light vortex around my head, lifting my hair in a most unnerving way.
The entryway was slightly offset and dark, disguising the intruder until the last possible moment.
Boots tapped against the light stone, not the heavy thunks of my brother or the worn leather padding of Sasori.
These were clipped and most certainly polished; boots made as a statement of wealth and position rather than use.
Razia.
My magic relaxed, though never dissipated completely, as Lishahl’s traitor strode into the room. If he was surprised to see me holding onto my power, he—wisely—never showed it. Instead, he cleared his throat and adjusted that horrid red doublet before bowing his head in my direction.
“Goddess,” his voice slithered in the darkness like a snake in the grass. I knew Razia wasn’t fully loyal to me, just as he was never fully loyal to Lishahl. The man was as opportunistic as they came, but that didn’t bother me in the least.
What unnerved me most about Razia was that I could never tell if his type of serpent was harmless or poisonous, his pattern as much of a disguise as the velvet he wore. Perhaps I wouldn’t know for certain until he struck and sank his fangs deep into my flesh.
My spine straightened at the thought, and I nearly bared my teeth, feral as any wild animal.
I’d never let him get close enough.
“Yes,” I barked. This time, Razia’s eyebrows did rise just as his shrewd gaze took in the slightly dilapidated state of the study.
“Bit of late-night reading?” he drawled, eyes focused on the maps scattered about the floor.
I didn’t deign to give him an answer.
“Probably is best that you . . . familiarize yourself with Lishahl’s territory. Specifically Imena,” he said conversationally.
My fingers tightened into fists, nails biting into the soft skin of my palms.
“It’s all I’ve done for weeks,” I hissed. “You said you’d deliver a girl that would allow us an advantage in this war. From my place, all I’ve heard are empty words and gilded promises.”
My voice was deceptively calm, my mood only betrayed by the wind that rustled Razia’s hair, pulling it from its carefully slicked style.
“I told you to be patient,” he snarked, and my power whipped out, wrapping a tendril around his throat.
Instantly, Razia’s hands trailed to where my magic had him trapped, his face slowly bleeding red as he lost the ability to breathe.
“Do. Not. Tell. Me. To. Be. Patient,” I hissed, striding closer with every word until I could nearly reach out and touch him.
Razia gagged and writhed, eyes nearly popping from his head as drool trailed down the edge of his mouth.
“I have bided my time for centuries, you miscreant. Far longer than a mere mortal like you could even comprehend. Do not tell me to have patience,” I thundered, striding away from the choking man before calling my power back.
Razia hit the floor with a shuddering gasp, his palms slapping against the stone as he hacked and retched, trying to force air into contracting lungs.
I sat in a chair, head propped against two fingers, as I watched him slowly recover. Eventually, his movements quieted, breathing returning to normal as he pushed himself to his knees, one foot coming to rest flat on the floor.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I said, raising a finger on my opposite hand. Razia’s head flew up to watch me tick it back and forth as if reprimanding a toddler. “On your knees is fine.”
Anger and resentment flashed in Razia’s eyes before he cooled his reaction, his face plain and dull once more.
“As you wish, Goddess,” he rasped with a quick bow of his head.
“Why are you here? You have news?” I asked, spinning a small ball of air in my palm.
Razia tracked the movement before fixing me with an unreadable stare.
“I do.”
“And?” I tried to belay my excitement, but threads of it pushed through in a rush.
“There will be an . . . opportunity soon.”
“An opportunity for . . . what exactly?” I asked, the ball of air whizzing in my palm with my growing irritation. “Speak plainly, Razia. I grow tired of your”—I glanced disparagingly at him—“games.”
“I have it from good sources that there will be a . . . celebration in roughly a month’s time.”
“A celebration?” I deadpanned.
“Yes. A time where the rebels will be caught unaware and unguarded.”
“A perfect time for an attack,” I mused, a feral smile gripping the edges of my lips.
Finally, the opening I needed. The time to snuff out their little flame of rebellion and bring Elyria to heel.
“Tell me all that you know,” I said, extinguishing the ball of air with my fist. “And leave nothing out.”
Razia responded with a malicious grin of his own, teeth and eyes glinting in the low firelight. “Gladly.”