Page 103 of Artemysia
Ivy gasps. “Really? That’s fucking beautiful. Stardust… I’d be okay with that.” She shuts her eyes tight, holding her stomach.
Throg pulls her closer. “Little demon, you’re not going to be stardust for a very long while. I won’t allow it.” He offers her more tea, encouraging her to drink.
“Tomorrow after lunch, Delphine, you will prepare to depart for North Kingdom,” Eira says. “Ivy and Throg will come with me. King Foss will allow an official tour of the palace.”
“A tour?” Throg asks, a suspicious brow lifting.
“He is rewarding you for mostly staying out of trouble over the last week,” she adds, glancing at Ivy. “Delphine, you will meet Riev at the northern carriage courtyard downstairs in the afternoon. An attendant will direct you.”
And just like that, I’m left wondering if there’s more blue belly-soothing tea, because my stomach dips and sours at the thought of finally seeing Riev and journeying into foreign lands alone with him.
“The Syf love contracts.” - Riev
What the hell am I doing here? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself every day.
It’s still unbelievable that I’m a fucking Syf prince. It’s astounding, and must be a trick of some sort, and I suspect I’m being used.
The Artemysian history Foss recited to me this week was vague, and when I asked questions, he lectured over me. I couldn’t find anything useful in the books I read. Some were missing pages here and there, so obviously they were curated to give me only the knowledge they wanted me to have.
There’s more to the story of the three kingdoms. South Kingdom. Artemysia. North Kingdom. What am I missing here? Until I find out, I refuse to believe Foss.
UncleFoss. Pfft. I’ve never had family before, and I’m not starting with a Syf family. He spent the weekpreparing me for this mission, and tried to impart a bit of Syf royal history. I was forced to take all my meals with him, but I gathered valuable information I may be able use against him in the future. I leave for North Kingdom tomorrow.
Tonight, after a meal of odd-tasting meat and sweet wine, King Foss directs me with an emerald-capped pen.
“Sign here, please.”
The Syf love contracts. Dealing with them seems to be what King Foss does a mind-numbing fifty percent of the time as ruler of Artemysia. Reviews contracts, signs contracts, orders them drawn up for various royal concerns and business. I’ve been shadowing him for a week, observing him as he goes about his day, while also completing my assignment of reading a dozen books about North Kingdom. Luckily, I read and retain information quickly and still have time to annoy him.
The contract for my mission with Delphine is written by hand in green ink on thick cream stationery.
At least I can write my name. R-I-E-V.
“Last name?”
“Wolfgang.”
He taps the contract, waiting for me to continue my signature.
“Couldn’t write it to save my life.”
“That is going to be a problem. You’re going to have to learn to write.”
“I could draw you a picture of my handsome face instead…” I mutter dryly.
King Foss cocks his head, studying me. We have the same nose. Do I appear as snooty as he does when I look down my nose at people? I decide I must. He has a natural frown, too.
“You know, I knew you when you had wings,” he says. “Your hair was black, and you never cried. Your name was Aeros.”
What the fuck. I’m immediately engulfed in disgust. It takes all my energy not to shove the green fountain pen into something. Jam it into the contract. King Foss. Myself.
Against all instincts, I take a breath and imagine Delphine’s look of disapproval if I did any of that. She’d say I was acting out of self-loathing. And perhaps she’d be right.
Itisa punch in the gut that someone knew me as something other than what I am now.
An innocent child.
Marije did, but she’s gone.
