Page 35 of Sky of Thorns

Fueled by his near hit, I take advantage, feigning to his left and slash while simultaneously sending a powerful push of my air magic against him. He grunts as he barely blocks my attack, his balance thrown off by the force of the gale. His eyes light up with a sparkle of flame, his teeth flashing as those same flames start dancing along the fingertips of his free hand.

“Oh, you want to play with magic? Two can play that game.” He dances around, swinging his sword with another flourish. He shakes his head, sweat trickling down his tanned forearms. Heat fills the air between us. My lungs are burning from the exertion of our duel, but my lips curl up at his taunting invitation.

“I win, and you scrub my chambers for a week.” I call the wind to me, swirling around my left forearm into an invisible shield.

“An’ if I win?” Nero lifts an eyebrow.

“As if you will beat me. What do you want if you win, old man?” We exchange a few more blows and parries.

“If I win, ye tell me what is on yer mind. Ye haven’t been yourself lately. I can’t recall the last time ye’ve drunk yourself to sleep.” Concern laces his voice as he quickly counterattacks my parry. The cold stone castle wall hits my back, and the tip of his sword pierces the front of my shirt. His deep brown eyes pierce mine and I am forced to look away, knocking his sword to the side. The rough stone scratches through my shirt as I slide down the wall to the ground. A cloud of dust wafts up as he sits beside me.

“It’s nothing.” I close my eyes, evading him.

“It’s nae nothing. I’ve keen you for over a hundred years, Aramis.” His eyes bore into me.

“It’s Sybil.” I sigh and stare at the blue sky above us filled with dark gray clouds, heavy with the promise of snow.

“What of Sybil?” He tenses up, his breath becoming shallow and rapid.

I pause and glance at my friend. His furrowed brow and down-turned mouth betray his concern. We have known each other since we were boys and I trust him with my life. But I am not sure if I even trust my own feelings.

“I’m not quite sure where to begin.” I rub at my temples. I can still feel that tug deep inside. “I can’t stop thinking about her, smelling her, seeing her in my dreams. I vowed the night my mother died at the shifter’s hands that I would not forgive them for trying to take down my kingdom.” I rub at my chest, willing the sensation to go away. Not even drinking myself stupid has been enough to stop this growing pull. “I don’t know if she’s cast some sort of spell on me, but I just can’t stop. They have her locked up in the East dungeon with the other shifters.” The image of her lying unconscious on the stone, her hair plastered to her head with drying blood, fills my mind. I lift a hand and rub at my forehead.

“Wait. They have Sybil in the East dungeon?” He quickly rises to his feet, his dark brows furrowing. “I apologize, my lord. But I forgot I have an urgent matter to attend to.” With that, he swiftly turns and walks away, leaving me puzzled over my emotions and his strange behavior.

Sybil

Istareatthetray pushed through the small slot of my cell door hours ago. Calling the contents in the small weathered bowl food would be considered criminal. The dubious, thick, gelatinous gray sludge quivers slightly, as if it were alive. I shiver, imagining how it might come for me in my nightmares. A putrid smell emanates from it, like the stench of a decaying animal. Beside it lies a hard roll covered in a mold that reminds me of sickly green fur. The overall scene is terribly repulsive and makes me nauseous just being in its presence. I close my eyes, haunted by the images and sounds of the cubs greedily slurping at the meal, nipping, and growling at each other for the last scrape.

They don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this. What is to come of us?

After Aramis departed, I scoped out my cell, looking for any weaknesses. They placed spells on the iron bars, repelling any magical attempts I made, trying to coax them open. But all that came from that pitiful attempt was an aching head.

Goddess help us.

I kick the bars, letting out a string of profanity. I’m so fucking tired of not being able to accomplish anything of worth.

The sound of a door gently opening and closing makes me pause my pacing. My mind wanders back to Aramis. It seems like days have passed since I last saw him, his expression full of shock and hatred as he observed the state I was in. He probably thought I got what I deserved, what any shifter deserves. A part of me can’t help but hope my words have fuelled the few doubts he already had about the Queen’s intentions, if not for my sake then for that of all the other shifters suffering in these cells. Maybe he will re-evaluate his certainties.

I strain to listen as quiet, deliberate steps make their way down the hall.

What if it’s Kieran, back to bring me to the queen for another ‘session’?

My body temperature suddenly rises at the thought, leaving my skin hot and clammy. Unsteady on my feet, tremors run from my fingertips down to my toes and my heart seems to pound fast and hard. I take a deep breath and attempt to calm myself, but my chest tightens, and my breathing is quick and shallow. The world around me seems to shrink, my vision turning hazy; stars blinking on the periphery.

You’re dying,the voice in my head says.This is what death feels like, and you’re going to die alone.

“No!” I throw my arms out, grabbing the iron bars of my cage. The surrounding walls are closing in, inch by inch, from all directions. It’s getting harder to breathe as the space around me continues to shrink. Each breath takes more effort than the last, as if the air itself is being squeezed out of my lungs. Panic sets in as I realize there’s nowhere to go, no escape from this suffocating space. The walls continue to press in, unrelenting.

I will not go out like this!

Tears stream down my face as I clench my eyes tightly together. I force myself to take deep breaths, imagining my mother as she talks to one of her patients through a panic attack. I’d never had a panic attack before, but this must be what one feels like.

“Sybil.” A rich male’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts and memories.

“Sybil, get up. We have to go. Now.” The urgency in his voice confuses me. It reminds me of my father, but he died over ten years ago. I slowly open my eyes, blinking away the tears as I peer through the bars.

“Come Sybil.” The deep tenor resonates in me, and I recognize the tone. “We need to go. Now.” He commands.

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