Page 54 of Artemysia

My temper flares. “Of course not! I just killed one.” Idiot. “It bit me, and I need to clean the wound so it won’t get infected.” I unwrap my ribbon and the strip of dress I’d used as a bandage and shove my arm eye level, exposing my ripped flesh.

He winces. “When I saw your lightning-quick reaction and your shoulder scar, I believed you were one of them. Then you tried to help it instead of killing it right away. We have Syf spies amongst us. Some go as far as cutting off their own wings, tail, and ear points to look more human.”

He returns the syringe to its case and snaps it shut. “We won’t be needing a sedative after all.”

The Artemysian spies that the Syf king sent? They mutilate themselves to spy on North Kingdom? Are they hidden in the courts of South Kingdom too?

Hold on. “If I were Syf, wouldn’t I have overtaken you? They’re stronger, and I’m not seeing any amazing fighting skills here at the manor.”

Prince Toryl pushes off the bed and strides across the room to an oversized wardrobe. He sets down the syringe case and pulls out a gold robe along with a matching thick, folded towel .

He passes me the robe. I’m relieved to finally cover myself, and he holds out the towel as I tie the robe.

“I’m not completely helpless. I have fighting skills,” Toryl says in his defense.

I snort.

He takes my insult in stride. “Not like yours, but that’s what the syringe is for. Normal Syf aren’t violent. They can be sedated. Unlike Syf who have been turned, as you’ve seen.”

“But why—”

“Hot bath is through those doors on the right.” His tone has eased, and the lines in his brow vanish.

“Use all the hot water you want. Scrub and other supplies are in the cabinet. I’ll be in my office behind the left door.

Pick out anything you want from the wardrobe and come find me when you’re done. ”

I recall that scrub means bar soap here.

He pauses. “You did save my life, and I am grateful. I apologize—I had to inspect you myself. I couldn’t trust the guards to keep their hands off you.” He levels me with a look, his brows furrowed. “My father’s guards are not always honorable with female prisoners,” he says through gritted teeth.

I’m taken aback at his change in attitude. His words contradict my first impression of him as a cold, unfeeling bully. Thoroughly confused, I wonder if, like me, he wears a mask when stepping into a leadership role to hide his true feelings because it’s expected of him.

However, he had me at “hot bath.” I’m more than happy to clean off the Syf’s blood and guts, and I can’t find any reason to believe it’s a trick.

He’s already passing through his office door and apparently doesn’t expect a reply. I debate if I should make a run for it and find Riev. It seems more sensible to do as I am told for now. I have the attention of the Prince of North Kingdom, and there is more information to be gleaned.

I call out after him. “Why would the Syf spy on you, High Lord?”

After all, I am still here to gather information. I need to figure out what he knows, what his kingdom knows.

Toryl halts mid-stride, the cords of his neck tensing.

He doesn’t answer right away, but drags a hand through his wavy hair, which falls right back into place.

It’s as if he’s gathering his thoughts. “What would you do, Marchioness, if you were surrounded by an enemy on three sides, and your back was against a wall on the fourth?”

“Easy.” We teach these strategic thought games at the Academy to new recruits. What this has to do with Syf spying on humans, I have no idea. “Diplomacy, negotiation, alliances—”

“No. Those are preemptive tactics,” Toryl cuts in. “War has already begun.”

“What does the enemy want? Resources, power, territory, revenge—”

“Annihilation,” he says grimly.

He’s unwilling to offer more, so I pause to consider this. “Their motivation, at least?” I ask, exhaling loudly out of exasperation.

He shrugs. “Motivation unknown. And you’re outnumbered, outmatched, and there’s no way to win.”

What answer is he looking for? This is no longer a textbook situation. There is always motivation. Why else would anyone risk war? I draw upon my own experience. When fighting Syf, whose strength outmatches ours, their motivation would be bloodlust and to feed on human flesh. Or so I thought.

“If you’re not looking for a textbook answer, I will say my answer is to create chaos.”

The lines between his brows deepen. I’ve piqued his interest. Instinct tells me that what I say next may change his mind about whatever he had originally planned for me.

I continue. “Without more information, which you seem unwilling to provide, if I am surrounded on three sides with my back against a wall, the only way to not lose is to create chaos.”

“Go on.” He steps closer, listening intently, his cool, iceflower scent invading my nostrils, reminding me of a snowy winter’s day. It somehow matches his personality.

“The strength of the enemy is in how closely they work together, how they fight as a cohesive unit,” I say.

It’s why Throg and I work so well together. It’s why Ivy, for all her insanity, is an ingenious fighter. From our very first fight together at Limingfrost, she figured out exactly what I needed from her to stay ahead of the enemy, though they outnumbered us.

“Once cohesion is lost, numbers don’t matter. You can pick them off one by one. At that point, send out your strongest and drive through the middle of the three sides like a spear.”

I repeat myself. “Find a way to create chaos amongst them, and you stand a chance.”

What I don’t say out loud is that this is why South Kingdom has lasted so long against the Syf attacks. Had Syf been more organized, there would be none of us left by now.

Toryl’s gaze lingers, unblinking and wide; he almost smiles.

So I drive my point home because strategy is my strength, and I’m confident. “And, if there’s no way to win, you can at least not lose. Battles of attrition can be won.”

“Marchioness. You are…remarkable.” He rewards me with warmth in his compliment but reaches to draw back the handle of his office door. He waves me toward the bathroom.

“Not yet,” I cut in before he dismisses me completely. “I answered your question, and now it’s my turn. Why would Syf spy on North Kingdom?”

His back is turned to me, but a muscle in his jaw bulges. “They need to keep us in check.”

“How?”

“They steal our recorded history of them, so we know less and less about them. Perhaps they want to erase our knowledge of them.”

“They steal our records of Syf? As in, old books and letters mentioning them?” Is that what happened when Limingfrost was ransacked? The Artemysian Syf must have stolen the books and records they needed right before the rabid Syf raided the village.

The prince whirls around, his penetrating green eyes unblinking, flecked with gold sparks from the lamplight.

The lights here are brighter.

Everything is newer, more modern than Stargazer, and I shiver at the unfamiliarity of it all.

“Ah, so you already know…” he says cautiously. His face is graver than it’s been all evening, and he rubs a palm against his brow.

“Why would they do that?” I ask. “Do they feel threatened?” It dawns on me. “Are there other pockets of Syf among humans elsewhere in the world? Or are they the only ones? ”

“No. You misunderstand.” He halts, as if debating whether to say more, his gaze troubled. “North Kingdom and South Kingdom are all that’s left…”

“Left of what?”

“There are no other humans. We are one of only two human civilizations left in this world of Syf.”

My hand goes to my mouth, stifling a gasp. Did I hear correctly? This can’t possibly be true.

“The rest of the world is Syf, Marchioness Delphine.” His words shudder through me, and cold sweat forms over my body as if I just woke up from a horrible nightmare.

Impossible. He must be joking, except his expression says he means every word.

My mind is unable to wrap itself around this impossibility. My chest constricts, squeezing all the air out of my lungs.

His words scream out in my head.

The rest of the world is Syf.

How does the prince know this? Does everyone in North Kingdom accept this? Is he speaking the truth or merely testing me again?

Stargazer’s southern border has impenetrable mountains with a wealth of resources, and the northern border has always been a dangerous forest. Rivers on both sides run to the sea or into the mountains.

We haven’t been able to expand beyond our borders.

Could this be because of the Syf? But we haven’t needed to. We have all we need.

There wasn’t a reason to explore further, and it wasn’t even feasible in many respects.

Scaling the southern mountains was impossible.

Naval exploration of the seas was highly unsuccessful in the past, so we didn’t continue to pursue it, especially in the last twenty years when surviving Syf attacks became the priority.

We live in a Syf world. No. How? Was it always this way? Who else knows? My mind grasps for answers until Prince Toryl interrupts my fragmented thoughts.

“Not many know this. But I have proof. We’ll talk more after you clean up. You’re still tracking blood everywhere. ”

What would you do, Marchioness, if you were surrounded by an enemy on three sides, and your back was against a wall on the fourth?

Now I know who he meant when he grilled me about war strategy.

Who is surrounded on three sides with their back against a wall?

Humans.

And the three sides that want our annihilation?

Syf.