Page 98 of Artemysia
“I’m in,” Delphine says immediately.
Dammit. Of course she is.
Brave, change-the-world Delphine. She’s always all in.
I heave a deep exhale.
Then…so am I.
“What’s for dinner, you think?” - Ivy
The Syf king lies. There’s so much more he isn’t willing to tell us. Anyone can see that. But if he will get us to North Kingdom, I will discover the truth for myself.
Riev is a Syf prince. That doesn’t surprise me as much as seeing him on the throne, casually sipping wine as if he hasn’t a care in the world. Where do his loyalties lie? Himself? He held his emotions so close that I couldn’t get a read on him, but I sensed no distress in him other than when I first walked into the throne room.
He wanted to escape, Ivy said. But despite my hurt feelings—which I wouldn’t even have if I’d kept to my own rules—I decide to be sensible and figure out his intentions. I need to get him alone.
Maybe he won’t want to talk to me about it. Perhaps he’s enjoying his new role.
Good for him, then.
What I have half a mind to do is to slap that smugwine-drinking face. But that’s coming from a place of hurt, and I can’t allow my vulnerabilities to get the best of me.
Snap judgments are not my style.
Throg, Ivy, and I are taken up a long spiral staircase to a small wing of three bedrooms connected by a living room. Guest quarters. White furniture with dark green fabrics and accents.
I have too many questions, but my head hurts from the incredible turn of events. I’ve got to focus on my next task: obtain the information I need from the North Kingdom. Make the right decision about whether to help the Syf, if indeed something is mutating their population, or continue with my original mission to seek help from North Kingdom against the Syf.
The guard’s dark tail twitches back and forth like a panther. “An attendant will be available to you for any needs. Dinner will be brought up shortly.”
Throg drops onto a tufted white velvet chaise. “Your lover is a prince.”
“Throg, focus. Where is the lie? What’s going on here?”
“I think King Foss tells the truth,” he says. It’s rare to see him so serious, so deep in thought, and the two creases in his brows deepen. “They can’t help turning rabid.”
“Really? Did you smell it?” I’m snarky because I’m anxious.
“Relax. You’re being taken to the other side of the forest. They can’t go with you to the gala. You can seek help as we originally planned, or you can decide if the Northerners are as evil as King Foss says,” Throg replies.
“That’s the plan. I wish you were going too. I need you by my side, Throg.”
“Well, they have to keep Ivy and me here so you don’t just run off.”
Ivy pokes around the room, opening drawers. “What’s for dinner, you think? What do Syf eat?”
Am I the only one worried out of my mind? I suppose it’s how the two of them deal with stress—they casually look the other way. They’re probably waiting for me to retire to one of the bedrooms so they can have sex.
Dinner is a selection of miscellaneous sliced meats served on platters at a table in our quarters by Syf guards who don’t speak to us andrush out as quickly as they can. Sweet, rosy wine is served in delicate green glass flutes like the one Riev was drinking from in the throne room. There’s a selection of unfamiliar raw vegetables none of us touch. I have no complaints.
“Why is all this meat sweet? Do Syf not have salt?” Throg complains.
Otherwise, we eat quickly in exhausted, stunned silence.
We’re given Syf silks to change into before bed.
Riev doesn’t come to our wing that evening, though given the situation, it wasn’t expected. I try my best not to think of him, but I have trouble falling asleep. The nights I had him wrapped around me, I fell asleep without lying awake for an hour worrying about the world—a first for me.
