Page 143 of City of Snakes
“Can I stay here a while?” I asked.
“Of course. I’ll go grab some tea and pastries. Nothing baked goods can’t fix, right?” She got up and bounced to the door.
I wished my problems were simple enough that sugar could solve them.
Chapter 44
Emmerick
Firose and I avoided being seen in any major town as we headed north. We procured packs with over a week’s worth of water and a meager supply of food. The beating sun of the Wastelands had become insufferable once we’d descended the Hussa mountains. While we could see rain in the distance, we got no reprieve.
“Tell me again why this is a good idea?” I asked her as I wiped the sweat from my brow, glancing at the rising sun. We’d encountered seven rattling serpents and numerous skulls on the trail already.
“Because if anyone has found a way to defeat Caym, it would be Darvanda. It is personal for him. There was an ancient scripture calledTheBook of Isolde—it holds a prophecy thought to be the only way to rid the world of Caym’s presence. He’s to find the Last Daughter of Isleen, and their child is said to be the key to stopping Death. So, let us hope the old book is right and he’s found her.”
“Why is it personal to Darvanda?”
“Because Caym once held the body of his Commander...Stygian was at first an envoy—until hewasn’t.It was as though hebecameDeath when he betrayed Darvanda. He capitalized off of Krait’s anger after his wife was killed, and that is partly how Phynx fell.”
Firose’s brow wrinkled, and her face dropped as though she’d remembered something that she was not sharing. Something about this particular memory haunted her.
I couldn’t bring myself to ask—I knew her part in that story. She hadn’t been an innocent bystander.
“So, we show up at Darvanda’s doorstep and say what, exactly? That you’re sorry for tearing a realm apart and setting it in flames? But he should forgive you because Death made you do it?” I asked, unable to hide my skepticism.
Even outside the range where Caym could reach me, I felt him in my veins like poisoned blood coursing through me.
“Would you rather do the talking, my King?” she asked.
“No,” I admitted, stopping to catch my breath and take a swig of water.
Her gaze trailed down my body, which shouldn’t have excited me, yet it did. My sense of honor had been thoroughly stomped on.
I pulled at the too-tight tunic that chaffed my neck under the early heat in the desert.
“You can control it, you know,” she said.
“Control what?”
She pointed up at the sun, and I scoffed. “Right,” I grumbled. No part of me wanted to let my Source power out, even here where the laws of Henosis held no weight.
“This trip would be worlds easier if you harnessed it. You can wield your power to hold on to the rays and create a shieldaround you—sort of like pushing the sun away. It’s a simple charm.”
I assessed the angle and position of the sun. The heat would only get worse as the morning continued. She was right—this would be more pleasant if the heat couldn’t assault us.
“Fine,” I sighed. “Teach me as we walk.”
She spent the next twenty minutes explaining what to do, and after three failed attempts, I felt a cool breeze for the first time. Our surroundings ebbed and flowed like a mirage, but there was an immediate reprieve from the harsh rays. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“You can likely hold that for a few hours before becoming fatigued. When you drop it, do so slowly to avoid backlash.”
“Backlash?” I questioned, worry creeping into my voice.
She pursed her lips in a tight smirk and nodded. “It feels awful, like being crushed.”
The hairs on my neck stood up. There was so much about my magic that I didn’t understand. Now, the woman who had once tried to kill me, kill Sybilla, capture Asterie for Death’s use, and destroy my city was teaching me how to wield it.
We hadn’t discussed what had happened in the greenhouse, nor had it happened again. The exhaustion and grime of travel made any thought of repeating our intimate slip of judgment grow distant.
