Page 44 of Artemysia

“When we die, we don’t rot. So we burn our dead and return to stardust after death.” - Eira

“Y ou’re wearing a shirt. And pants. Voluntarily?

” I narrow my eyes at Throg as Eira leads us down a different set of stairs than yesterday.

The spiral stairway of green marble, like much else here, is embedded with gemstones.

Each step is a different color. Violet, blue, green, gold, crimson.

I count the colors and take breaths to quell the rising tightness in my chest at the unknowns that are out of my control here.

“Have you felt the Syf fabrics? I don’t overheat or sweat at all.” Throg hoists his large arm span overhead as if reaching for a high shelf, and the mint fabric stretches with him instead of pulling or straining. “Feels like a second skin.”

“What’s it made of?” My own moss-green tunic and dark leggings have been surprisingly comfortable, too.

Eira’s eager response has her tail twitching.

“We cultivate luna moths here, the ones you see all over the palace. Their silk is collected from the leftover cocoons after they emerge. The moths are more active at night, when they glow a bright green.” At the bottom of the stairs, she herds us down a winding, arched hallway.

Apparently, over the next eight days, Throg, Ivy, and I are to attend class to prepare for my mission into North Kingdom.

“The curriculum is one they put together for Syf spies preparing to enter North Kingdom,” Eira says. “I’m to take class with you for my own continuing education.”

Ivy squeals, looking ecstatic. “I stopped school when I was sold off and married, but before that, I was really good at it.”

Throg is less enthused. “Why do we have to attend if we aren’t going? I need a mission.”

“Your mission while I’m away is to learn more about the Artemysians,” I say under my breath so Eira doesn’t hear.

“Doesn’t Riev have to learn this stuff too?” Ivy asks.

“He is being tutored by King Foss,” Eira explains. “Plus, the instructors are afraid of him.”

Eira leads us to what she calls their council room, which looks similar to King Galke’s war room.

Two older Syf instructors, one male and one female, are to tutor us on the North Kingdom accent.

I suspect they are wary of us. They refuse to come within arm’s reach and maintain their distance at the front of the class.

Having a king’s guard like Eira present is probably more for their sense of safety than anything else.

As the lecture begins, I see Throg’s eyes glaze over. Ivy enthusiastically nods constantly at everything the instructors say, taking lots of notes.

The language in North Kingdom is the same as ours, but there are variations in the accent and intonations.

For example, “farmer,” is pronounced more like “fah-mah.” The “r” sound is less prominent, and the intonations are flatter.

Small differences in vocabulary and slang.

They use necktie instead of cravat , and scrub means bar of soap .

Lunch is brought to us in the early afternoon—pastries and tea, along with a large bowl of dried fruits that Owlfred would have loved.

By the end of the day, our jaws and tongues are exhausted from hours of “repeat after us,” and the sun has gone down .

We are fed a dinner of sugary meats in our quarters.

Throg wants to practice maneuvers and physically train. Since our living room is large, we shove the furniture against the walls. The Syf allowed us to keep our weapons on my word that we would not use them against Syf, so Throg and I spar until we’re breathless.

Ivy joins in when I lead us in strength and agility exercises.

I fall into bed that night, mentally exhausted.

While Ivy and Throg sleep together in one room, the only sounds I hear from them tonight are muffled conversation until they fall asleep. Both of their snores comfort me.

I stare up at the domed ceiling and wonder why there is no sign of Riev.

I don’t push it, because officially, we are their captives, albeit treated well. For now, going along with their orders is our best and only way out.

The second day is all about culture, including etiquette and dance. The third day’s lesson covers geography and some patchy history, ending with a review of language again.

On day four, Eira brings us an illustrated children’s book depicting humans. “This book teaches Syf children about humans.”

Ivy flips roughly through the pages and laughs. “Why are we all half-sized, squat, and hairy? We don’t ride sheep. This is so grotesque!” She angles the book to show me the illustrations before shoving the book in Throg’s face.

“Well, that one kind of looks like you.” He points to a human wielding a butter knife, chasing a Syf child with a sack of sugar.

Ivy cackles, utterly delighted for reasons that escape me.

Eira grins. “I think it’s similar to your children’s stories about pixies, elves, fae, and nymphs. They are all distorted, imaginary creatures that humans made up to make fun of Syf.”

She escorts us out of our quarters, ushering us down the corridor to the council room, where our two dour instructors await.

Politics and government cover the fourth and fifth days, and then everything is repeated in condensed form on days six and seven .

The week passes surprisingly quickly. They keep our schedules full so that we are too busy and mentally exhausted to do much else.

A lot of it is basic human culture. North Kingdom shares similarities with South Kingdom, but their population is twice the size. Instead of wool, wheat, and ore, they specialize in coal, potatoes and oats, and cattle.

When I ask what Syf produce, I get a terse response, but they reluctantly give up a few commodities: sugar, timber, and medicine.

Riev is still nowhere to be seen as Eira shuffles us back and forth from our rooms to the council room. It’s better than being in prison at Stargazer, Ivy says.

For me, it’s not very different from the intense day-long courses I teach new recruits at the Academy.

When asked about Riev, Eira patiently explains that they keep us away from him so there can be no coordination of escape or attack. They don’t trust us, which makes sense.

On day eight, Ivy isn’t in her bed in the morning. She doesn’t show up to class, and no one can find her. The palace is in an uproar. Eira is berated in front of us by her superiors for losing Ivy.

Throg insists she was with him the entire night, but when he woke, she was gone.

When Throg and I are sent back to our quarters at the end of our long day of instruction, we find Ivy lying on her side in her bed, clutching her stomach in a tight ball.

“Little demon, are you okay?” Throg rushes to her side within a few large strides and strokes her hair. “Where were you?”

She winces, her violet eyes darkening. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to sneak out, but the halls might be enchanted. When I leave, I end up back here. Probably why they don’t need guards outside our doors at night.”

“How did you get out?” I ask.

“I climbed out the window this morning. Used my sheets.”

“And?”

“I left the palace and ran into town. You wouldn’t believe the confectionary shops they have here!” She groans. “They have something called chocolate. I ate too much. But I bought some for you, Captain.” She weakly lifts an arm at a woven bag slung over the nightstand.

Out of that slew of information, one word catches my attention. “How did you buy them? What do they use for currency here?”

“Well, first I picked up one of the large gems that grow on the side of the road. But they looked at me as if I were insane. They wanted sugar, coal, or ore—like copper. So I offered to work there for the day.”

“They let you?”

“They were really nice because they were curious about the rumors of Stargazers living with King Foss. That’s what the Syf villagers call the people of South Kingdom.”

She shouldn’t have snuck out, but she’s learned more about the Artemysians in one day than we have over the past week. I’m certain Eira and the others have kept us busy on purpose, and when they actually answer a question, I have a strong feeling the information is incomplete.

“Anyway, they said I could come back tomorrow if I wanted. Orion, you too. I explained your overheating problem, since it’s hot in there with all the ovens. They said you’d have to wear an apron and pants, but you could go shirtless.”

I cut in. “Okay, I’m not sure we’re here to assimilate into Syf society, but maybe you could spy and come up with more information. Not a terrible idea after all, Ivy.”

“Can you ask Eira if there’s anything for stomach cramps? Is their sugar different here?”

Eira is one step ahead of us. She slips into Ivy’s room from behind us with a tray. “The villagers reported your presence by the afternoon. King Foss allowed you to stay because it seemed productive to human-Syf relations. The Artemysians liked you.”

She sets down a glittery emerald teacup on a matching saucer, filled with a dark blue liquid. “This tea should help. Sugar is the same anywhere, as are the effects of overconsumption of chocolate,” she says wryly.

Throg takes the saucer and sniffs the tea, grimaces, and pulls Ivy upright against him. She remains in a balled position clutching her stomach as he puts the edge of the cup to her pale lips .

She sips the blue tea, which stains the melodramatic frown on her lips.

“So…what is chocolate?” I ask, curious.

Ivy’s face lights up. “It’s not that dry-ass jerky we’ve been living on, that’s for sure. It gives you extra energy. I felt like I could fight a lion. Or stay up all night!”

“Extra energy? Do you feel like that’s something you really need?” I ask tactfully.

Throg sniffs, clucking his tongue. “Morrigan, you’ve consumed too much of this poison fruit. You smell proportionally more of sugar than human right now.”

“It’s not fruit, is it? I’m not going to jail, am I, Eira? You could toss me into the deepest hell of your prisons, and I’d fight my way out for more chocolate. It’s heavenly.”

Eira shakes her head. “No. And also, Syf don’t believe in heaven or hell,” she says. “When we die, we don’t rot. So we burn our dead and return to stardust after death.”

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.