Page 51 of City of Snakes (Legends of Henosis #2)

Chapter 50

Krait

“ D o you have enough water?” I asked from atop my horse, beside Sybilla’s.

She hummed a yes. This time, I hadn’t made Sybilla ride in a cart or on a mule. She was armed to the teeth, with a sword sheathed in her saddlebag and bow across her back. A blacksmith had fitted her with an everlasting quiver and arrows of charmed iron capable of penetrating even the toughest of stones and metals.

There had been a time when I would have done anything to get her to be quiet. That time was not now.

“Are you feeling well?” I tried again.

“Yes,” she sighed out.

I let out a grumble of frustration.

It was less than a day’s ride to get to Sahlmkar if one covered ground briskly, yet I fretted about her strength. We had deliberately not built an Egress there. The region just south of the volcanic shores held a decent amount of industry —textiles, masonry and blacksmithing. It also held the highest concentration of prisoners in the Sahlms.

We’d locked away Old World war criminals and those unwilling to keep the peace with our neighboring realm. Like the ones who’d attacked Luz.

Due to the lower altitude and harsh climate, Sahlmkar was even hotter and drier than Sahlmsara. The travel was treacherous enough to warrant a party of thirty soldiers. The wind whipping the air was a welcome reprieve from the heat, though it brought dust with it.

Elsedora was staying in the Sahlms to manage affairs and maintain communication with Henosis while I was gone.

The way Sybilla held her reins in one hand and massaged her wrist with the other told me she’d lied. She was hurting. My jaw tensed. I wanted her to confide in me the way she had when I’d held her in bed.

Sybilla glanced over. “Elsedora told me what to expect in this region,” she noted. So she was willing to talk—about geography, at least. It was a start.

“Did she tell you its history?”

“It is thought to be Death’s land,” she said. “Is that true?”

“It is,” I answered. “It’s where Caym and Desidero were born.”

While I was the King of Sahlmkar, and while the industry there served all of the Sahlms, there were still many in the old city who prayed to both the Death and Shadow Origins. They accepted me only as one half of the whole.

We could be walking into a trap. I suppressed that fear. “The people of Sahlmkar respect me as their ruler—but most still worship Caym, believing him to be the superior Source Origin. It may be unwise to bring you there, and if there is any indication of unrest, then I’m Shadowing you out.”

She made a “Pfft” noise between her lips. “As if I am not used to living among those who want to see me dead.”

Elsedora’s earlier suggestion of flowers paled in comparison to what I truly owed Sybilla. Ryn would at least ensure that our arrival in the rough lands was a pleasant one. It had been a long time since I’d tried to convince a woman to entertain the idea of my company.

Taking her into the underbelly of dark magic seemed incredibly foolish, but we were running low on options.

“The people there are not inherently bad,” I reasoned.

She snapped, “I never said they were.”

I sighed against my impulse to bite back.

Her renewed coldness made it impossible to prove that my feelings had grown beyond what was required of us. That damned list. I still hadn’t formed a compelling argument against my own written words.

One of my soldiers trotted from the front of the party. He yelled, “Trouble ahead, my King. The river is running deep from the first rainfall. We’ll need to ford it carefully—there’s a shallow point, but the current is strong.”

“Understood,” I barked back.

We approached the river. Its rush was more rapid than I’d seen here before. I watched the first soldiers attempt to cross. The water nearly reached the horses’ bellies, even at the shallowest point. Sybilla’s small mount might be withers deep.

“Would you like me to Shadow us across?” I asked.

She turned her chin up. “The soldiers ahead have crossed fine.”

“We’ll go slow,” I grumbled as my mount’s hooves splashed into the water. Sybilla’s horse stepped in beside mine and flared its dish-shaped nose with a snort. The current tugged at the horses’ legs, and they strained against the rushing water.

“Easy.” I urged my mount onward as we fell into a single file line with Sybilla behind me.

I shot a worried glance back just as the blue ribbon that held Sybilla’s hair caught the wind and pulled free. Her lips fell open as she tried to snatch it from the air, but it blew forward and hit her horse’s ears. I could see her mutter a curse. Her horse spooked, leaped forward and then stumbled.

“Sybilla!” I called back as her horse collapsed to its knees—the steed’s head disappeared below the surface as he thrashed and tried to regain his footing.

“Woah, woah!”

She tried to pull up on the reins, but her mount began to roll sideways.

“I can’t swim!” she called out. The wind blew her hair across her pale, panic-stricken face.

Sybilla was knocked free of the saddle with a yelp. Her mount fled, swimming toward the bank. Sybilla’s hands grasped at the water, trying to grab onto something, anything, to keep herself afloat.

The rushing river began to carry her away.

No.

She gasped before being pulled under.

No, fuck, no.

“Sybilla!”

My horse’s hooves hit dry land, and I sprung off and raced downriver.

Three of my men, who had already crossed, rode ahead and looked for her. The hooves of their wet mounts pounded against the riverbank. I could hear the men calling to each other. She hadn’t resurfaced, and their panicked shouts only heightened my fear.

I continued sprinting down the bank. I couldn’t see her in the muddy water, and the faster the current moved, the faster my heart pounded.

I couldn’t lose her too.

Her head popped above the water a few yards from where I stood.

I dove into the cool, murky water toward her. The current fought to drag me away from where I wanted to go.

Seconds felt like minutes, and my lungs burned. My hands finally met something soft—her arm or leg. I couldn’t tell in the tumble of the river. I pulled her to me, getting a good grasp on her. She clung to the front of my shirt, and a wave of relief rushed through me. She was still conscious. Wrapping my arms around her, I Shadowed us to the bank.

She coughed and sputtered up water. I unclasped the buckle holding her bow to her, and let it and the charmed quiver fall to the side. She was soaked in mud, and trembling; her brow pinched tight as she gagged and coughed. I pounded on her back.

“Sybilla? Talk to me,” I demanded. How could she not have told me sooner that she couldn’t swim?

“Stop. Fucking. Hitting me,” she choked out.

They were the most beautiful words she’d ever said while lashing out at me. I sat on my heels and stopped pounding.

Unable to help myself, I reached out and drew her into my lap, collapsing onto my ass and cradling her head against my shoulder. She regained her breath as I rocked her there. My men scrambled to go catch her mount, shouting at one another to catch mine as well.

My hands shook. Why hadn’t I just insisted on Shadowing us across the river from the start? Then, all the energy to be angry left me.

There wasn’t a single mark against her on any list that prevented me from longing to hold her—to be near her. That was love, you idiot, my mind screamed at me.

“That list. I didn’t mean any of the things on it,” I said into her hair. “I desperately wanted to, because I was scared. But I didn’t.” I couldn’t tell whether she or I was trembling harder.

She gripped my shoulders, and the feel of her nails digging in gave me hope. “I don’t believe you,” she said, still regaining herself.

I let my chin rest on her head. “Then we are going to work on that.”