“Good morning, Sybilla.”
“El’s gone to grab us tea,” I said, answering his assumed question of where she’d snuck off to.
“No, no.” Ryn rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit disheveled. “I came to see you. How are you doing?”
My eyes narrowed on the Prince of Phynx. Something felt off with this drop-in. It was almost as though he was intentionally distracting me.
“Oh, I am just rainbows and butterflies,” I drawled. “Why are you really here?”
He shook his head. “I can’t just care about how my friend is faring?”
“Youcan. Has Elsedora abandoned me and sent you up to compensate?”
Convinced that he was hiding something, I moved into that place of Ryn’s mind I knew to always be left open even when he was shielding his thoughts. When I sank into his mind, his emotions unsettled me; he was shaken.
I pushed deeper.
“What in the realms could Mattock want so badly he dared step foot in Sahlmsara?”
“Emmerick ishere?” I gasped, and Ryn’s brow furrowed.
“Sources, I hate that. Sybilla,” he warned, “Krait will kill me. I can’t let you near Mattock, not while knowing he is an envoy.”
“You wouldn’t be letting me,” I breathed out. “Where?”
He grimaced. “The holding cell.”
I could feel his anger bite at my mind for taking away his will to obey Krait. Guilt gripped me. But the worst hadn’t yet been done.
“I’m very sorry, Ryn.” Then I forced his feet to stick to the spot where he stood, and I slipped past him through the doorway and ran.
When I reached the stairs down to the holding cell, there were three guards waiting.
“Move aside,” I commanded
“My Queen,” one said. “We’ve been told not to let anyone down there. King Darvanda is—”
I silenced him. At my will, the guards stepped aside. It had become so easy to bend those around me to my whims. That intoxicating and terrifying feeling enveloped me.
“He will not punish you for your disobedience,” I assured them as I stepped past. I closed the door behind me and took the steps in two, not knowing how long the hold on them, or Ryn, would last. It was fatiguing to use so much of my power at once.
My eyes adjusted to the low light as I entered the holding cell.
I heard my dear friend’s voice. “It’s Syb, isn’t it?” he questioned with brimming tears.
“Yes.” Krait’s voice sounded grave. That prick had no right to talk about me without my being present.
“Em,” I gasped out, and Krait stiffened before turning to me. “Why is he chained up like an animal?”
Then my eyes landed on the High Enchantress of the North. A ghost. No, not ghoulish—whole and in the tattered flesh.
I pressed my back against the bars of the holding cell.
“You.” It escaped my lips as a feral snarl.
“Sybilla.” Elsedora approached me. “You shouldn’t be down here.”
“For fuck’s sake, I need everyone to stop telling me what I should or should not do and explain. Now.”
