Page 3 of City of Snakes
Who would partner with a man who’d burned down — decimated—the city of Phynx all those centuries ago? I understood the other rulers’ concerns. But Darvanda had something I wanted—a depth of magic ready to be tapped into.And the King of the Sahlms might be a dick, but if he’d wanted me dead, there was no doubt I would’ve been.
His soldiers had saved my city. I owed him a debt.
An arrogant, putrid feeling hit me as a familiar loathsome energy approached the dining hall door.
My fucking cousin Haward. Did I need to deal with him today on top of all else?
I turned toward the door, awaiting him. The hinges on the white birch creaked, and my horrid kin, from my father’s side, stepped into the room. His disparaging thoughts about me were thick in the air.
I smiled nonetheless.
“Dear cousin, come to wish me safe travels?” I asked, unwilling to rise to his petty ire.
Sources.Not today.
Haward’s younger brother trailed behind him. Barden had always been a gentle boy, but under Haward’s mentorship, his grip on moral decency was loosening, too. As soon as the boyish chub had left Barden’s cheeks, he’d been swept up into Haward’s hatred for me, albeit in a more half-assed manner. His thoughts were never quite as cutting as his elder brother’s.
Keeping my placating smile, I crossed the room to where Haward stood.
He fought a grimace as he thought,“A whore’s daughter deserves no crown.”
Grinding my teeth, I tried to focus on the way his dress robe collar was flipped up, out of place.
Haward scoffed. “I just received word about your appointment of advisors. I am a Wymark—and yet you trust Luz to two Source-wielders? Clearly, you are unfit to rule this Corridor,dearcousin.”
His spittle hit my cheek, and I fought the urge to step away. It took every ounce of control not to bite back with venom.
“Useless woman,”he thought. My nails bit into my palms.
Haward’s unearned sense of self-worth swelled within him. I wanted to tell him exactly where to shove his condescending thoughts; instead, I shut down my senses and forced him out of my head. It was difficult to do when my anxieties were heightened, and it took much of my waning strength.
Barden loitered behind Haward with his hands in his pockets, ruddy, pale skin collecting sweat at his temples. They were a mirror of each other, with rounded noses and light features that were not unlike my own.
“Do you feel the same, Barden?” I asked.
Barden flushed and fiddled with his pocket watch. “Yes, Queen Sybilla. It seems unwise to leave the Corridor in the hands of acquaintances. Unwiser still to go willingly into the Wastelands with the Brennac King. He cannot be trusted.”
His thoughts were peculiarly quiet today. Brainwashed into thinking whatever Haward thought, I was sure. Already too fatigued to try to push in and uncover his emotions, I sighed.
“Hm,” I mused, nodding. “You’re right. It does seem unwise. And yet...” I reached out and straightened Haward’s dress robe collar. “I still trust this Corridor more in the hands of two capable acquaintances than with two entitled lords who do not know their asses from that of a hog.”
As I smiled up at Haward, his freckled face grew red. He ran one hand through his dull-blond, too-thin hair with a scowl. “You will regret this.”
“I can assure you—I will not.”
I’d made the right choice. Asterie, my starlit friend, and Fenris, her Fire-wielding Source Match, would keep my Corridor safe. They would rebuild it to its former glory. I trusted them to handle all that, and these two blubbering idiots.
As I turned toward the door, I was yanked to an abrupt stop. Haward had reached out and grabbed both of my wrists, causingme to stumble forward with a gasp. I should have seen it coming. The pressure of his hands around my already-aching wrists made tears swell. I would not let them fall in front of these two.
“Haward,” Barden mumbled in warning and glanced toward the open dining hall door.
Right.Wymark men liked doors closed when they bullied others.
I glared into the eyes of a pitiful man who longed for nothing more than the silver crown of thorns and acorns adorning my head. He craved the adoration of my people. If he wore my crown, he would have no adoration. Under his rule, when the crops refused to grow and prices rose, he would sit up on my throne and demand to be fed from a silver fucking spoon.
Men like Haward Wymark were the reason our realm had fallen so far from the peaceful, prosperous place it once had been centuries ago.
My temper flared hotter as his hold grew tighter. My odds were slim of escaping his grip, and he towered over me by a foot, but I growled in protest anyway.
