Page 100 of City of Snakes
I raised both palms to reveal I had no weapons. “It’s Sybilla. She’s sick. Who am I speaking with right now?”
His expression turned from indignation to concerned confusion. He assessed me. “What are you talking about? And how sick?”
“Fever, chills—she can’t stay conscious.”
Mattock nodded but did not seem shocked. “For how long?”
My arms dropped to my sides as I said, “It came on quickly...sometime through the night.”
I glanced around for Mattock’s broadsword. I wondered how near it needed to be for Caym to reach him, or whether it worked like that at all. We didn’t understand enough about how Caym was infiltrating his envoys.
“She asked for you,” I ground out. “What should we do for her?”
Mattock grimaced. “Has she been taking Mortag’s tonics?”
My posture slumped. “No. What does she take them for?”
Mattock breathed out as though exasperated with me. He had every right to be. I’d allowed his former Queen to grow ill. I hadn’t known what to look for. Those broken vials had been important, and I’d failed to piece it together.
“She struggles with ongoing pain and inflammation. She takes tonics to help reduce it. Go to Healer Mortag in Luz. He has cared for her since she was a girl. He’ll have the right tonics,” he sighed out. “She gets sick frequently. Her body isn’t as good as others’ at fighting off common illnesses, especially if she’s been under any stress. It isn’t something she likes many people to know. She views it as something that could be used against her claim over the Central Corridor.”
At each revelation, the knot growing in my throat thickened. He knew so much about her—so much about how to care for her. He hadn’t even sounded smug as he’d unveiled her deepest anxieties, only downtrodden.
I’d been so careless.
Part of me wanted to strike him for contributing to her stress. But in the months she’d been under my roof, she had been confronted by one obstacle or piece of bad news after another. His being an envoy—it wasn’t even his fault.
I could only grow angrier at myself.
“Thank you,” I ground out and retreated toward the shadows.
Emmerick’s jaw tightened. “Congratulations on your betrothal. If she’s let you anywhere near her while she’s sick, there must be something redeeming about your character.” The sentiment was clipped but seemingly sincere.
It burned at my sense of pride that she hadn’t come to me at all. The straightening of his posture and the light dimming in his eyes told me his next words might not be his own. There were footsteps outside the door.
“We’ll be back to deal with you...” I said to Caym as dark-green smoke and amber flecks filled Mattock’s irises.
At my parting words, a chilling smile spread across the North King’s face. He nodded and said, “Until the next black moon, nephew. I will enjoy your death the most.”
Holding my breath, I sank back into the shadows and parted without another word to visit a healer in Luz. I didn’t bother returning to the Egress; instead, I Shadowed through the breaking dawn.
The guards at the gates of Luz barked orders for me to tell them why I was there. I’d used the entry, out of respect for Sybilla’s new advisors.
“Your Queen requests I speak with her advisors, Fenris and Asterie,” I told them, tapping my boot against the stark marble.
They checked me for weapons before they led me inside.
Only after Asterie had descended the steps did the guards back away, seeming to understand that her power far outweighed their ability to protect her.
“What’s the meaning of this?” she asked.
Judging by the thick purple velvet robe she wore and the hair astray from its braid, they’d pulled her from sleep.
“It is Sybilla,” I said.
Asterie’s brow furrowed. “What’s happened to her?”
“She’s sick—Mattock says a healer by the name Mortag usually helps her.”
