Page 45 of City of Snakes (Legends of Henosis #2)

Chapter 44

Emmerick

F irose and I avoided being seen in any major town as we headed north. We procured packs with over a week’s worth of water and a meager supply of food. The beating sun of the Wastelands had become insufferable once we’d descended the Hussa mountains. While we could see rain in the distance, we got no reprieve.

“Tell me again why this is a good idea?” I asked her as I wiped the sweat from my brow, glancing at the rising sun. We’d encountered seven rattling serpents and numerous skulls on the trail already.

“Because if anyone has found a way to defeat Caym, it would be Darvanda. It is personal for him. There was an ancient scripture called The Book of Isolde —it holds a prophecy thought to be the only way to rid the world of Caym’s presence. He’s to find the Last Daughter of Isleen, and their child is said to be the key to stopping Death. So, let us hope the old book is right and he’s found her.”

“Why is it personal to Darvanda?”

“Because Caym once held the body of his Commander...Stygian was at first an envoy—until he wasn’t. It was as though he became Death when he betrayed Darvanda. He capitalized off of Krait’s anger after his wife was killed, and that is partly how Phynx fell.”

Firose’s brow wrinkled, and her face dropped as though she’d remembered something that she was not sharing. Something about this particular memory haunted her.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask—I knew her part in that story. She hadn’t been an innocent bystander.

“So, we show up at Darvanda’s doorstep and say what, exactly? That you’re sorry for tearing a realm apart and setting it in flames? But he should forgive you because Death made you do it?” I asked, unable to hide my skepticism.

Even outside the range where Caym could reach me, I felt him in my veins like poisoned blood coursing through me.

“Would you rather do the talking, my King?” she asked.

“No,” I admitted, stopping to catch my breath and take a swig of water.

Her gaze trailed down my body, which shouldn’t have excited me, yet it did. My sense of honor had been thoroughly stomped on.

I pulled at the too-tight tunic that chaffed my neck under the early heat in the desert.

“You can control it, you know,” she said.

“Control what?”

She pointed up at the sun, and I scoffed. “Right,” I grumbled. No part of me wanted to let my Source power out, even here where the laws of Henosis held no weight.

“This trip would be worlds easier if you harnessed it. You can wield your power to hold on to the rays and create a shield around you—sort of like pushing the sun away. It’s a simple charm.”

I assessed the angle and position of the sun. The heat would only get worse as the morning continued. She was right—this would be more pleasant if the heat couldn’t assault us.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Teach me as we walk.”

She spent the next twenty minutes explaining what to do, and after three failed attempts, I felt a cool breeze for the first time. Our surroundings ebbed and flowed like a mirage, but there was an immediate reprieve from the harsh rays. She breathed a sigh of relief.

“You can likely hold that for a few hours before becoming fatigued. When you drop it, do so slowly to avoid backlash.”

“Backlash?” I questioned, worry creeping into my voice.

She pursed her lips in a tight smirk and nodded. “It feels awful, like being crushed.”

The hairs on my neck stood up. There was so much about my magic that I didn’t understand. Now, the woman who had once tried to kill me, kill Sybilla, capture Asterie for Death’s use, and destroy my city was teaching me how to wield it.

We hadn’t discussed what had happened in the greenhouse, nor had it happened again. The exhaustion and grime of travel made any thought of repeating our intimate slip of judgment grow distant.

Every once in a while though, she stared at me with a spark of flame behind those blue eyes that tugged on my heart.

That pull was built on mutual turmoil, yes.

But it was also built on our magic’s ruthless draw toward one another.

Firose Van Gran was potentially my Source Match. The Sources were cruel and unjust beings.

We’d gotten little sleep and rose with the sun. The land seemed cut from red rock, covered only in dust, dead grass and spiked vegetation. I hadn’t expected to crest a hill and find a sprawling city built at the center of a deep canyon, extending beyond where the eye could see.

Firose and I both stopped to gape at it before we descended.

“Well, Darvanda sure has been busy,” she breathed out.

After a grueling trek, it was nearly mid-morning when we reached the city center. People bustled around us, vending from carts and tents.

“Think of slowly reeling in your magic as though you’re coiling up yarn,” Firose reminded me.

I’d lowered my ward the night before but still felt nervous. I followed her instructions and raised my palms to the Sun ward that I’d created. Focusing intently, I pulled it back to me and the last rays of sunshine reached us.

It felt odd that no one balked or stared at the use of magic. Instead, townsfolk cleaned up damp confetti and discarded wine bottles as though there had been a celebration of some kind recently. We reached the city square, surrounded on three sides by large canals.

A pit grew in my stomach as I realized how peaceful this place seemed and what an oasis Darvanda had built here for his people. I hated the thought that maybe the King of the Sahlms was truly fit for Sybilla in ways I would never be. A true King, one that had accomplished all of this.

Plus, he wasn’t currently possessed by the greatest evil the realm had ever faced.

The weight of losing her wasn’t at all lessened, even knowing she might’ve found happiness with another. I longed for that to be enough and wanted to rip the ugly, jealous feelings out and cast them aside.

“There, that looks like where we should go.” Firose nodded toward a great estate stretching toward the cloudless sky. “Don’t expect a pleasant greeting,” she warned as we approached the entrance.

I approached one of the guards and said, “I am Emmerick Mattock, King of the North Corridor. And I request an audience with Elsedora Lamoreaux.”