I approached her and she didn’t retreat. My Shadows trailed the ground before they rose to create a shield that engulfed her in soft darkness. They wrapped around her, seeking out any injury, any scratch.
“You have no reason to be pissed. I do,” she said.“You tried to keep me from matters that concern me—that concern someone I care for.”
“I wasn’t pissed, Sybilla. I was terrified.”
Her posture slackened slightly, as though she’d anticipated an argument.
I was too relieved that she was okay. “I don’t care what you think of me but know this—I don’t want you to ever have to face danger alone. Sources, I felt helpless…I refuse to lose you; I refuse to lose everything again.”
One of my hands wrapped around the back of her neck, drawing her gaze up to mine, and the other held her at the torso. I lowered my head, desperate to seek out her lips. Our breath tangled in the Shadows between us.
Her brow furrowed, hands still on her hips, and she said, “Krait. I do not wish for your hands to be on me right now. Remove them, or I will do it for you.”
Swallowing hard, I pulled my hands away from her, longing for the warmth of her skin beneath my fingers.
My foolhardy sense of hope hinged on her caveat of “right now.” She took one last look at my lips, which I dared to think seemed tinged with longing, before stepping away from me.
“Emmerick is truly an envoy, but Firose is not any longer. She was reborn from fire. I know that sounds impossible, but I sank into both of their heads…”
“The Origins work in ways even I can’t fathom.”
Ryn’s heavy footsteps rang down the hall. He reached us with labored breath and a scowl that I’d never seen him wear before. “Sources, woman,” he huffed. “If you’d asked nicely, I would have brought you down here.”
Sybilla stiffened. Ryn looked confused by her sudden cold front.
“It is not my truth to unfold for you,” Sybilla said to Ryn. “But I could not find anything in Firose’s memories that suggested she was the one to tell your father about Freya and Krait eloping.”
Her words were like a blow, and air escaped my lungs.
That couldn’t be.
“I need to go find someone to send down supplies. For now, both Emmerick and Firose are wards ofLuz.Any harm that befalls them is an act of war against me. Also, they’re unchained.”
I fought the impulse to scold her. She didn’t look at me before she headed off stiffly down the hall.
Ryn stood stone-still as I listened to Sybilla’s receding steps.
“Firose told him,” I insisted. “She told your father that Freya and I were married. She is the reason I lost my Source Match, and she’ll suffer for it.”
Ryn shook his head and said, “You’re wrong, Krait.” His eyes glistened, and my heart stopped.
“What do you mean?” My tone grew so grave that Ryn’s face fell. The Shadows that had protected Sybilla grew like angry vines above my head.
“It was me.”
I stalked toward him without thinking. “Whatdo you mean?” I repeated, in a snarl.
Ryn’s cheeks glistened with tears that now rolled freely.
“Krait...” My longest-standing friend and officer of my realm held up his palms. “The night you were married, I tried to kill my father. Freya deserved to be on his throne...but my plan backfired. I was caught.”
I couldn’t control my breathing or see through the Shadows growing around me. They reached for him, ready to tear—to destroy.
“Please, Krait...My actions killed her. My father immediately suspected something was amiss. He knew that so long as she lived the people would reject him. I was interrogated until I cracked, and her life was the price of my attempt on his. I live with that the guilt every fucking day.” Ryn was spitting through his own tears when I threw the first punch.
I expected him to fight back.
He didn’t.
