Page 101 of City of Snakes
“He has not returned. Let me fetch Wyeth. She helped me draw up tonics before Sybilla left. Is she out of them already?”
My heart sank as I realized I’d been right. The green vials were what she needed.
Asterie walked over to one of her guards, quietly giving him orders, and he ascended the steps. She stepped down into the main hall of the palace. Silver-accented sconces and royal blue rugs were laid out down the hall. The marble had been patched, and much work had been done since I’d last seen the space.
Something about being in Sybilla’s home while she lay sick in mine didn’t sit right with me.
“How bad is she?” Asterie watched me like a hawk.
“Bad enough that I visited the North King—bad enough that I am here.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Was there foul play? Poison?”
“No, of course not,” I grumbled.
Asterie’s head tilted.
“Can you go tell your healer we don’t have all night?”
Fenris trotted down the steps in an open robe, wearing trousers but no tunic. He paid me no pleasantries, which I appreciated. “What happened?”
Begrudgingly, I told them of Sybilla’s fever, of our healer’s prognosis—that she would be fine, but that we needed to provide her with the tonics she was used to taking.
It wasn’t long before a petite woman with neat shoulder-length black hair appeared at the top of the steps. She was dressed in a light-green robe and thick black nightdress.
“Nice to see you, King Darvanda,” Wyeth said as she descended the stairs, and her hair flashed green. I’d heard of a kingdom in the East Corridor whose lineage had been cursed with such a truth charm—I had no time to be offended.
Wyeth sized me up and then held out two bright green vials. “I only had enough supplies for a few doses. This should get Queen Wymark through tomorrow, and I can prepare more to send Asterie with after I gather the ingredients.”
Asterie chimed in, “Sybilla mentioned that the tonics she usually takes are blue—do you know of anything anti-inflammatory that would be blue?”
Wyeth tapped her chin and shook her head, “Only garrot root, and that was banned from medicinal uselongago. It’s impossible to find now. Maybe her healer was using bluebell vine tea to lace the healing tonic and make it taste better? There is plenty of that in his quarters.”
I ground my teeth. Garrot root had been one of the magic suppressants used during the Great Wars against my people—the Phynnic had polluted the water with it.
Palming the vials that Wyeth handed me, I looked between the three of them. “Thank you. I’ll send El in the morning to give you word on how Sybilla is feeling.”
Asterie offered me a quiet nod before I Shadowed away from the realm of Henosis and swirled through the darkness towardthe Sahlms. I’d be beyond tired tomorrow, but every minute away from Umber House made me grow more anxious.
Chapter 32
Emmerick
When everything went cold and dark, I’d been considering the nerve it took the King of the Sahlms to ask for my help. Almost valiant.
The more infuriating part was I’d happily provided answers, unable to fathom the idea of denying Sybilla comfort. I’d pushed her into a corner, and she’d lashed out by planning to marry that asshole, and yet...the thought of her sick or suffering still felt like having my chest ripped open.
Darvanda’s worry had seemed genuine, which bothered me more—that he cared for her when it should’ve been me. Yet she’d rarely let me in the room for longer than a few minutes when she’d experienced bad days despite how well I knew her.
Sybilla never showed vulnerability in front of anyone. She’d sooner die alone than let another soul in her bedchamber when a flare-up was occurring. Yet she let him see tender parts of her. My anger always seemed to be a gateway to my vision blurring, the room chilling, my control waning.
When I came to, I was standing in the throne room of Helos. Something wet and warm coated my hands. Looking down, I saw blood dripping from my fingers. Beneath the crimson, my fingertips were charred like they’d been smeared in coal.
Dark magic…
Again.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood tall.
