Page 19 of Sky of Thorns

“Aramis, urgent news.” From the other side of the door, Nero’s muffled voice calls out. Aramis audibly exhales as he runs his hand through his already disheveled hair.

“I’ll be right there,” he replies before grabbing one of the soaps from the tray and depositing it in the palm of my hand, closing my fingers around it.

“I expect you to be bathed and changed by the time I return,” he lectures. I’m tempted to roll my eyes at him. He points to the cloth bag carefully positioned by the servants on the small table by the bathtub. “I had Oletta bring a change of clothes for you. It’s the best I can do at the moment.”

Aramis is half-way to the door as he finishes his final instruction. The door slams behind him and the metal scrap of the key turning in the lock echoes. Voices murmur down the hall before I move. A mix of emotions overwhelms me now that I am finally alone, at last. The appreciation I felt for Aramis’s kindness turns once again into anger and frustration. But even my rage does not last as it immediately turns to fear and sadness. I fall to my knees, landing on my sodden woolen cloak, tears falling from my eyes.

I bury my face in my hands and weep as exhaustion and the previous day’s events sink in. Will I be strong enough for what’s about to come?

Lemon peeks his tiny head out of my pocket before crawling up the fabric of my dress to nuzzle at my cheek. A tiny hiccup escapes me as I pull him into a hug.

“Oh Lemon. What are we going to do?” I whisper, holding him in front of me and peering into his dark, beady eyes. He sniffs the air, looking towards the steaming tub of water before looking back at me.

“You’re right.” I reply, finally standing, then gently placing him on the floor. “It’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if said gift horse comes from an aggravating male.”

I step into the water, sighing as I lower my body under its warm embrace. The tub is deep enough that the water comes all the way to my neck. I rarely let myself indulge in such a pleasure at home. Resting my head against the wooden edge of the tub, I let my muscles relax, breathing in the lavender scented water. Another reminder of home. At the thought, I close my eyes, hold my breath and sink under the water.

The cuff around my wrist floats and I wish the slippery water would aid in my plight of getting rid of it. I would not experience half of my aches if I only had my magic. Unable to withstand against the burn in my chest for air, I rise above the surface gulping in large breaths. The rain continues to pelt endlessly at the windows and roof. A loud crack of thunder sends Lemon hissing on the floor at my side as I accidentally splash him with water in my surprise.

I pray the lightning doesn’t hit the building and set the roof on fire.

“You can do this, Sybil.” I repeat to myself and try to believe it.

I grab the bar of soap and lather it in my hair. The rich scent of rosemary and lavender greets my nose as I massage the soap into my scalp.

“You will survive.” I speak into existence, hoping the Gods are listening.

I make quick work scrubbing the rest of my skin until it glows rosy pink from my efforts. Stepping out of the tub, I dry myself off with a soft thick towel warmed by the fire before rummaging in the bag for a clean gown. Expecting to find a low-cut bodice just like the one Oletta was wearing, I am surprised when I pull out a thick cream chemise and drag it over my head, followed by a dark purple wool petticoat and blouse. I hold a matching corset in my hands before shoving it back into the bag, deciding that this was not the time or place for its discomfort.

I begin to pace the room. My bare feet are cold against the smooth wood floors as I try to imagine what I’d say to free myself once we are at the palace. A gentle knock at the door stops me in my steps and I turn to face the door.

Aramis.

“Sybil? I’ve brought ye some food.” Nero’s deep voice calls out.

“Come in.” I quickly scoop Lemon from where he’s fallen asleep on the floor and tuck him in my pocket before I reply. I hear the lock turn a moment before the door swings open and Nero steps into the room carrying a tray laden with a steaming bowl of stew, a pewter tankard, and a small teapot and cup. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips at the comfort foods.

“I remembered ye had a variety of tea cups stacked around yer house and I thought a hot cup of black tea might be the perfect cure to warm yer cold bones.” He chuckles to himself as he sets the items on the small desk. Lifting the pot, he pours tea into the small cup before offering it towards me. “But who am I to tell a healer about cures?”

“It’s perfect.” I reply, my eyes welling at this small gesture of kindness. I walk over and lift the cup to my lips. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the sweet, mellow, and slightly musky scent of fresh black tea. “Thank you.” I can’t help the tears.

“I must return to our meeting, but there is a guard at your door, lass.” Nero says at the door, slightly ajar. “I warn ye, do not try to escape. The castle might only be two days away, but it’s a long road, and yer trials will not end at the castle gates.” He makes a slight bow towards me before leaving and locks the door behind him.

“As if I can pick a locked door, defeat a guard, and get past the entire tavern without being noticed.” I scoff as I consume the food and drink before it gets cold.

I am innocent. At this point, trying to escape would only paint me in a negative view. I will prove to Shadowvale of my innocence and then Lemon and I will go to Nova Esther.

I slowly drag my exhausted body towards the bed. The comforting sensation of the warm sheets envelopes me as I instantly drift off to a dreamless sleep.

Aramis

Closingthedoorbehindme, I lock it before tucking the key into my pocket. I selected a room on the third floor knowing the windows open to a steep hill and river that runs swiftly behind the building. Sybil would have to be utterly mad to try to escape, although I am starting to think she doesn’t even want to escape anymore. Regardless, I chose one of my guards to sleep in the stables, where he can monitor the room’s window.

“Tell me the news, Nero,” I command as I catch up to him. I cross my arms over my chest, walking side-by-side with my captain of the guard and best friend.

“Ye’ve received a missive from the kingdom.” He pulls a thick folded note from his pocket before handing it to me.

Grabbing the paper from him, I run my finger across the seal stamped into the golden wax. The symbol of a crescent moon with three stars and a sword thrust through it: our family crest. Moving into a private dining room, I sit down in a chair before breaking the seal and running my eyes over the text.

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