Page 133 of Artemysia
I glance up from the map to observe his reaction. “And your answer is to poison them all and create an army you can control.”
“How else will we get the numbers we need? If the rest of the Syf world decides they want us dead, we must be prepared,” Toryl replies grimly. “Do you see any other way to defend our kingdom? To ensure the survival of mankind?”
“Yes, of course. Ally with South Kingdom. Open talks with the Artemysian Syf. Maybe it won’t come to war. Diplomacy, trade, an alliance. Aren’t there rumors that there was once collaboration, two centuries ago?”
“I was taught one lesson about power. Those who have it will not share it. When one group’s survival is threatened by another, conflict is inevitable. War is inevitable.”
I open my mouth to protest—to say he can make a difference as king—but a knock at the door cuts our conversation short.
“High Lord,” a muffled voice sounds at the door. “The king requests your presence in the ballroom to entertain your guests. The nobles are here for the opportunity to engage their future king.”
He’s too composed to roll his eyes, but I get the feeling he wishes he could.
The servant hands the prince a wax-sealed letter. “From your father.”
Toryl cracks the wax and reads the note, a knot in his jaw forming. “Tell my father I’ll be there in five minutes,” he says stiffly.
“Yes, High Lord.” The messenger’s footsteps pad down the carpeted hall.
The prince frowns at me. “Seems like there might be an enemy among us tonight after all,” he says cryptically. For a brief horrifying moment, I think I’ve been discovered as an imposter.
He tears up the letter and tosses it into the hearth. “Will you accompany me downstairs? I think you’ll learn a lot about the state ofaffairs.”
I retain my composure and offer him a wry grin. “They all think I’m a spy, thanks to you.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to any of them. You were interrogated. Now, you’re my guest of honor. They should be grateful that you neutralized the threat.”
“I’ve been many things tonight. I’m not changing again—this dress is comfortable.”
Prince Toryl smiles. “You’re more beautiful in that plain black dress than anyone downstairs in their best finery. They should admire your cleverness and strength, as I do.”
I’m surprised at his warmth. I wonder if his aloofness is part of that mask he wears as a show of power.
He reaches across me and slides open the bottom drawer of his desk, lifting out a red velvet satchel.
“This was given to me by my grandmother.” He pours out the contents: a brilliant strand of teardrop diamonds the size of grapes. “The color reminds me of your hair. You may borrow it, if you’d like.”
I nod my approval, baffled.
He moves behind me and sweeps the hair off my neck. The gorgeous, cold stones weigh heavily around my throat as he fiddles with the clasp. The necklace is short and sits high, with the largest gem nestled in the hollow between my collarbones.
“Thank you,” I mutter, the words stuck in my throat, because I don’t understand his intimate gesture. Is this his way of showing gratitude, respecting me, or does he merely want me to be dressier if I am to accompany him downstairs?
Either way, I’m learning more than I ever imagined possible in one night.
My entire worldview has shifted tremendously. The air rushes out of my lungs as if I’m falling from dizzying heights, making it hard to breathe.
If there are only two human kingdoms left, it must mean certain extinction for us. Are we being controlled by the Syf? Are we alive only because they want us to be?
A sickening shudder runs through me.
On the other hand, if the Syf had wanted us gone, it would havehappened centuries ago, right? I have questions for the Artemysians. Should I even go back? If it’s us against the Syf, perhaps it’s better that they don’t know everything.
Do I tell Prince Toryl the truth of who I am, and hope for collaboration rather than war? Or do I report this information to South Kingdom and let King Galke decide?
What will Riev decide to do? I’ll spare him the horrifying news until morning. I’m hoping he is sleeping off his evening, poor guy. But if I run into Toryl’s cousins downstairs, I won’t be able to hold back.
How dare they?
