Page 92 of City of Snakes
I was seething—not at her, but at the underlying cut of her words. Sybilla had always kept me at arm’s length when it had suited her and close when she’d needed me most...Was love a series of convenient distractions alone in the dark where no one else could see us? I’d wanted more than that.
“What makes you an authority on love?”
She smiled weakly. “My parents had that kind of unconditional love. You only dislike what I’m saying because there is some truth in it. It’s okay to dislike me for that. Eventually, you’ll find someone that turns your world upside down. Someone who you would walk through fire to stand beside, no matter the circumstance.”
“You don’t know me at all.”
She tilted her head, assessing me. “No. But I know me, and you don’t seem so different. Fenris has told me your parents—the ones who raised you—are very much in love.”
A chill crept over me. Admitting that I didn’t love Sybilla felt like a betrayal. But to whom?
Elsedora jumped down from my desk.
“What’s in it for him? Why does he want to marry her?” I asked—not knowing whether I could handle the answer.
Elsedora shook her head. “My King rarely reveals his motives. He isn’t going to hurt her, though—that much, I assure you. He isn’t the monster this realm makes him out to be.”
I hated the parts of me that wished hewouldhurt her. Anger had been boiling inside of me ever since I’d taken the northern crown. What kind of person wished harm on their best friend? Threatened to take their crown by force?
I stood and stepped beside Elsedora, sheathing the sword at my hip.
“Your eyes...” Elsedora noted, watching my face too closely. “They were a very pretty shade of gold when I arrived, but they are a dark green now.”
That cool, dark feeling began to envelop me. “It’s time for you to leave.”
“But—” she tried.
“Go!” I shouted, and Elsedora flinched—seeming startled for the first time. Her nonchalant mask cracked as my face curled into a scowl.
“Very well,” she said, before pulling an expensive-looking golden egg that had been on my shelf from her pocket and dropping it on my desk. She quickly left the room.
I kneeled on the floor and closed my eyes. Then, the darkness descended and whisked me away.
Visions visited me. Memories.
But they were not mine. I saw through someone else’s eyes.
We were in the gilded Helos throne room again. Amara was before me, her stomach round and cheeks glowing under the golden lamplight.
Me—she carried me in her womb.
Then she said, “Why must it be this way, Corric? Please...Do you not wish to know our child?”
“Amara,” a voice not unlike my own answered. “It isn’t safe for even you here...”
“But why? Please tell me why.”
“I cannot.”
Light footsteps drew near the throne room door.
“King Mattock, are you in there?” Firose sang from the hall.
Amara’s eyes widened, the whites showing all the way around.
“Go,” Corric said to her. “Hide the child—from her, from me. Do whatever it takes. I am lost, Amara. I am lost.”
I was lost.
