5

…I said, get up! So help me, I will douse you with water and ice if you don’t…

The voice was a distant shadow at the back of Lilica’s mind, secondary to the down that enveloped her body and head, the utter comfort of her resting place. She was on a cloud, not too warm an not too cold, with no obligation to leave the fluffy wisps and the sky behind—

Until something—someone—jerking her shoulder too hard forced her eyes open with the shock of the violent motion.

Lilica stared into a sour, all too familiar face, sharp azure eyes and an oval-shaped jaw framed by golden curls. Sybelle’s fingers dug into her shoulder, the dull pain stirring her to wakefulness more quickly than she would have preferred. “Did I not instruct you to rise by the first rays of dawn? The sun has hovered over the horizon for hours, and you have missed breakfast.” As if, by her tone, sleeping in was a dire insult. The dark one might have laughed, if she hadn’t feared it might compromise their agreement.

“I suppose I slept… too well,” she suggested, as if the answer would suffice. With a mournful sigh, she pushed her body upright, raking a hand through her obsidian tresses.

But there was no excuse that would possibly suffice for Sybelle Silvanys. Without a warning, she seized Lilica’s arm, hauling her to her feet. “Then I will assume you are adequately rested to open your mind to what you need to know about Amaijah. And that you will pay apt attention to your instruction.”

“Does it have anything at all to do with the part you play in our bargain?” Lilica inquired with a suppressed yawn. The most peaceful, restful sleep she’d had for as long as she could remember… and it had been interrupted by the whims of a demanding, undeserving, spoiled noble. If this rude awakening had nothing to do with her part in their agreement, then she had little interest in keeping her eyes open.

Sybelle was in no mood for demands, however. Without another word, she threw open the wardrobe, and tossed at Lilica the first gown she put her hands on. It reflected the colour of her own eyes. “Get dressed, now. You have two minutes before I personally intervene.”

“Are you… Are you threatening to dress me if I do not adequately prepare myself in a timeframe that meets you expectations?” Lilica raised her eyebrows, dumbfounded by the extent of the irate woman’s impatience.

“I don’t make threats; I make promises.” Sybelle glowered. “I will be back in no longer than two minutes—and that is a promise. You have already wasted the young hours of morning.”

Left temporarily to her privacy, Lilica stood up with the utmost reluctance and sought the wardrobe for something to wear that did not suggest she was partaking in a countryside stroll. But the swathes of fabric that hung delicately for viewing all but made her stomach turn: shades of vibrant greens and blues and pinks and vermillion practically stung her eyes and upset her empty gut. “These are garish,” she called to Sybelle, who she knew was standing just outside the door. “You cannot possibly expect me to wear any of this.”

“You were the one who demanded dignity; then dress like you mean it,” Sybelle snapped. “One minute.”

There was no dignity to be had, donning a gown that looked better suited to a little girl, yet the chosen blue garment that the Lady of Silvanys had tossed at her feet was still the least offensive option provided. Quickly splashing water on her face from the cool basin, she tugged her current gown over her head, replacing it with the ridiculous blue shift with capped sleeves, a neckline that stretched shoulder to shoulder, and a broad ribbon around the middle that emphasized just how lacking her slight form was. She couldn’t help but wonder if Sybelle had purposely chosen these styles so as to mock her.

True to her word, the noblewoman threw open the door exactly one minute later, her mouth twisting into a frown at the result of her charge’s pitiful transformation. “It will have to do for now,” she concluded with a sigh. “But before the day is out, you will be cleaning yourself from head to toe. If you are to be seen with me, then I expect nothing less but for you to look your best.”

“That won’t be possible with clothing of that selection.” Lilica folded her arms in defiance, but her surly hostess was already turning away. She followed, knowing full well that it was expected of her.

It was impossible to ignore the eyes that followed her down the corridors as she walked in Sybelle’s shadow, Amaijah’s presumably most taboo guest. Even the woman who wished to have her here was unsure of and perpetually frustrated with her presence… Their agreement did not necessarily make them allies, she was beginning to realize, and it did not mean that she was accepted amongst these entitled nobles. It was enough to make her consider asking Sybelle about the certainty (or lack thereof) of her safety here, in this foreign and unforgiving place, but the hot-tempered woman hardly allowed her a breath for query. She continued her long strides, with which Lilica had to nearly jog to keep up, only coming to a halt when they made it to a room lined from wall to wall and from ceiling to floor with books: a library, she assumed, and a vast one, at that.

“Take a seat.” Closing the heavy doors behind them, Sybelle indicated a polished, circular table in the middle of the room, engraved with a symbol that Lilica recalled seeing on the regal attire of the King and his son; the sigil of the royal family, no doubt. “I have a lot to explain, and you have even more to understand. We will take today to cover that, and then—”

“And then move on to making good on your end of the bargain?”

Bold little serpent, Sybelle almost hissed, though by some miracle, she managed to keep the comment to herself. Of course, she had no problem twisting her face into a semblance of the words. “If you would let me get a word in without interrupting, then we will get to that,” she promised through clenched teeth. “Now sit! I am already losing my patience with you.”

Thin-lipped, Lilica took a seat, arms folded across her chest. “I am looking for a reason to trust you.” The words traveled on a sigh, though one of weariness as opposed to frustration. “Aside from your hesitation to kill me, because I might be useful.”

“You’ve made your point. I get it.” And for that, she could not begrudge the dark one, for all her insistence on fairness aggravated her. Lilica had already done what was asked of her, but in return, Sybelle was only able to offer promises of hope and safety, and a bedroom that was not locked from the outside. Her reluctant ally had every right to exercise her wariness and make demands that she come good on her promise; however, it was Lilica’s constant reminder her very debt to her that grated her nerves.

And she knew well that it would not rest until she could assure the dark mage not only of her authenticity, but her capability of turning her words into truth. “I do have a plan—one that I believe will benefit both of us. I spent countless hours of lost sleep contemplating the logistics, not that you care.” She snorted, decidedly unladylike. “But in order for it to make any sense, you need to quiet up long enough to hear me out. Without a basic understanding with the nature of what is happening here in Amaijah, we are as good as useless to one another.”

Lilica paused, unblinking, considering—or maybe just looking to further infuriate her fiery host. At last, she offered a shallow nod, and settled back in her chair. “I’m listening.”

“About time.” Sybelle huffed, reaching for something beneath her chair, and unrolled an expansive map over the polished wooden surface. Lilica only knew it as one depicting Amaijah for the fact that the kingdom’s name was sprawled across the top. “As you have likely already gathered, we are at war: East Amaijah opposing the west-most territory of the kingdom. But it was not always like that. In fact, for as long as the kingdom’s history books span, we have never been so petty as to fall to civil war… and yet, here we are. At war and entirely without any opposing force save for foot soldiers with weapons they can hardly comprehend, and mind-bending interrogators who are morally and ethically obligated not to use their gifts to harm, and—”

“And your kin; healers.” Watching Sybelle’s jaw clench with guilty satisfaction, the dark mage clarified, “I’m not an idiot. Believe it or not, I have been paying attention. Three separate bloodlines, all near and dear to your King such that they alone make up the whole of your counsel, no doubt for your strong inherited abilities. What I want to know…” He slender brows furrowed. “Who is this Falna Syxer to whom everyone keeps referring, and what vendetta does he have towards this kingdom?”

Sybelle pursed her lips, looking very much to Lilica like a child who had just lost a race. It was almost comical. “I was getting to that, if you would stop bloody interrupting me.” The regal noblewoman grumbled, folding her arms across her chest, which only furthered the petty insolence that she emanated. “The Syxer bloodline was also among the elite, here in Amaijah. Falna himself had sat upon the council alongside me, in fact. His gift, and that of his brethren, is that of offensive magic, and the Syxers are weapons in and of themselves. Unfortunately for us, about six months ago, Falna decided out of the blue that he was unhappy with the politics and protocols of Amaijah, how power is divided and weighed. And, given his respected place on the council, all of this family, and then some, followed suit… and led the rebellion against East Amaijah, while claiming the West for themselves.” She traced her finger along the map, from east to west, to illustrate. “We in the east have been at odd with, and under threat of the west, ever since. Falna and his followers have already made a show of their offensive prowess… And all we were able to do was endure. Though barely.”

“The politics of this place seem very… intriguing.” Lilica did not even make an effort to pretend she cared, not even lifting her eyes to meet the other woman’s. “But none of this explains what you want with me—or how you expect me to benefit from helping you.”

Keep your head on shoulders. Remain in control; rage is only relinquishing control. Sybelle inhaled and exhaled deeply, fighting her own chronic lack of patience, before daring to reply. “You fear your own magical potential. Am I correct?” She waited, and took the pale woman’s silence for affirmation. “Right. So you fear it extends beyond your control. That it lives by its own will and intentions, external from your own, and that you are unable to harness it to your own usage. To such an extent that you choose to withdraw from the whole world like a rat underground, because it is simpler not to be present than to face the consequences of attempting to be a functioning member of society.” That last comment was unnecessary, she knew well, but it served as a slightly more appropriate outlet for her temper than smashing the nearest fragile object.

Lilica’s neutral mouth turned downward in a frown. “And you think that sending me in to decimate your enemies is the solution.”

“That’s just it; it isn’t at all our plan to overpower the other side.” The noblewoman sighed, as if to express frustration at that very fact. “We are not a warmongering nation. We never have been, and even now, in the face of threat, we wish no harm on the damned traitors… not exactly a unanimous decision, but it is the wish of our king that we resolve this peacefully. That is where your role would come in.” Folding her hands atop one another, Sybelle angled her body forward ever so slightly, pushing herself more into Lilica’s personal space than the deadly magic user might have liked. “West Amaijah thinks it possible to overpower the east. And maybe they will, if they continue to see us as a target instead of a threat. But what if they learned we weren’t so helpless? That we had a single weapon that could take out their offense from afar?”

“I thought you said—”

“Just listen!” Sybelle lifted her hands, just to slam them back on the table. Lilica didn’t flinch. “You don’t need to take out all of bloody West Amaijah. What we need you to do is give the impression that you could, should you want to. Make it clear that we now have a force to be reckoned with, and I am confident that one of two things will occur.” Sitting back, more composed, she withdrew her stinging palms from the map. “At worst, we will incite a ceasefire on our terms, and they will find themselves obligated to comply. At best, Syxer and his followers will leave Amaijah altogether, deciding the risk of war is not worth staying. And you…” Her pale eyebrows narrowed, determined. “You might just find the means of that control that you so seek. Allowing that power an outlet, testing its boundaries and reeling it in at your own will. You only fear what you do not understand: I am giving you the chance to not only learn, but to do so under the guidance and protection of seasoned magic users.”

Lilica was slow to respond, dark eyes boring into Sybelle’s azures, interpreting, seeking, considering. At last, she shook her head. “Interesting. But… wishful thinking, if you ask me.”

“Maybe. But it is still a chance; an opportunity that I am certain you will not find again.” Sybelle raised a single eyebrow. “That, you cannot deny. For your cooperation, you have my word upon my own King’s life that I will make this worth your while.”

A stranger’s word meant nothing to the dark one, and her plan sounded more akin to a fairy tale than a feasible reality. But even so, even if chances of success were so slim that she might have been better off walking away… something resonated with her. Maybe it was the slim possibility that she would not have to lead the rest of her life in hiding, from the world or from herself. Or, perhaps, it had something to do with the mere fact that someone was extending a hand to her—a promise to help, even if it was not borne of entirely altruistic intentions.

The fierce noblewoman was right; it could very well be an opportunity that, more likely than not, she would not come across again. Not anytime soon.

“Lilica.” Sybelle broke the silence with a commanding tone, as she leaned across the table towards her unlikely guest, one hand extended. “Are we in agreement, or not?”

She hesitated a beat longer, before Lilica clasped her hand, an awkward and foreign gesture. Sybelle’s grip was firm, but her hand was smooth and warm. Shockingly inviting, for someone with such a bite. “I expect your word to hold.”

“And I expect you to follow my direction down to the most minute detail. I am glad we could find compatible ground.” Pulling her arm away, Sybelle stood and pushed in her seat, pushing a satisfied sigh from her lungs. “Right, then. I hope you can be attentive, because I do not have the time to show you what you need to see more than once.”

It was the first promising thing that Lilica had heard since she had been apprehended by Amaijaian guards. She could not recall when she had last seen daylight from the other side of an open window. And it would have been a lie to state that she wasn’t mildly curious of the layout of this temporary habitation… The more she knew, the less vulnerable she was.

Without a word of protest, she stood and followed Sybelle out of the decorative library and through the corridors. The sidelong glances of idlers were inevitable, their mistrusting eyes following Lilica’s every move, although the dark magic user was not nearly as perturbed as her fiery hostess. “Do you take issue with this?” She started, when Sybelle outright challenged two men trading conspicuous whispers and glances at their approach. “Then take it up with his Majesty. Her sanctuary and protection here are ironclad, but by all means, do not take my word for it.”

Subtle warmth spread through Lilica’s chest. It was the first time that the words sanctuary and protection had been used in a positive context with regard to her... Against her better judgement, she decided she’d like to think it was the stirring of relief. Sanctuary. Protection.

When had she ever been so lucky to be in possession of both?

Sybelle allowed her no time to dwell on the moment before she began to explain the layout of what Lilica had previously considered her gilded prison, though now supposed was more of a temporary sanctum. Walls and walls of stone, their hues and colours varying depending on the room, floors that varied in textures of wood and marble. The noblewoman spoke the entire time in that self-important tone, but it was all meaningless jargon that fell deaf on Lilica’s ears. Just a blur of colours and textures and sounds, all arbitrary and unimportant, until Sybelle led her to ornate glass doors, decorated in rose gold. She stopped when the doors swung wide, and her hostess stepped outside, casting a sour look over her shoulder when the dark one did not follow. “What is it? Will you melt in the sunlight?”

Not bothering to dignify that question with an answer, Lilica merely frowned, squinting and shielding her eyes as she followed Sybelle into the warm outdoors. A variety of flora, both subtle and bright hues, grew tall and proud between labyrinthine paths set in stone, all shades of pink and tan.

This courtyard, Lilica decided almost immediately, was the most inviting of anyone or anything that she had encountered, since her arrest.

Even if it merely signified the boundary of her so-called ‘freedom’. “As I have said before: you are not a prisoner here. But…” The noblewoman indicated the expansive gardens with a sweeping gesture. “For your own safety, do not wander beyond the perimeter of this fortress. If you need to escape the stagnant air inside, then you are more than welcome to wander wherever you like out here.”

“And by ‘safety’, I assume you mean the wrath of your own kin, should it look as though I am falling out of line.” Lilica snorted. Did this woman take her for an idiot? “Have it as you will. I have already agreed to play by your rules, for whatever it might benefit me.”

“You asked to be treated with dignity.” Sybelle turned on her heel, near seething. “You wanted not to be a prisoner. If you cannot recognize the effort—the lengths that I am going to in order to fulfill your ungrateful wishes, and cannot recognize that I am only able to work within certain limitations, then you can go back to that damned, reeking cell.” Her hands clenched into white fists, and she hissed, “And see… Just see if I bother to convince someone to heal another life-threatening injury or illness, next time.”

It was all Lilica could do not to roll her eyes. Was this woman—a healer, at that—really so self-important that she had found someone else to treat her injury, before she had been moved from that foul-smelling dungeon? Nonetheless… Sybelle was not the pinnacle of power in this pretentious kingdom’s hierarchy. And she had to believe that what this woman was doing for her now was above and beyond the extent that she wished to go for anyone… She had to trust.

Not a feat that came easily to her.

“Is this all that you wish to show me, then?” Much though she would have liked to wander the courtyard in solitude, that opportunity clearly was not in the here and now.

At least the question was enough to bring Sybelle down from her peaking anger. Collecting the pieces of her composure—something that no amount of practice appeared to make any easier—she exhaled through her nose and nodded. “For now; for however little you seemed to absorb, in that distracted state of yours.” She scoffed. “Well, if you are quite satisfied, then I will go ahead and request your audience with his Majesty.”

“Audience?” A slow feeling of dread turned Lilica’s stomach. “Was my appeal to your council not enough to deter them from ever being in my presence again?”

“You tell me. What kind of impression do you think you made, yesterday? If you were going for an impact, then I daresay you succeeded. Though not in a way that has put any trust to your name.” The noblewoman took note, however, of the fear that flickered in the other mage’s dark eyes. That border between petulant obstinacy and anxious dread was suddenly painfully obvious… What might happen if she acts out of fear before his Majesty? Might that magic manifest again?

It took no time for her to decide that she did not want to find out. “You have questions, don’t you? Some which even I can’t answer. This will be your turn; your chance to talk.” Sybelle made an effort to keep her tone nonchalant, clasping her hands behind her back. “No more demonstrations from you. That is a promise.”

If nothing else, the proud noblewoman had come good on her promises, thus far. That was the only reason that Lilica felt reassured to be swayed. She nodded once. “I’d like to return to my room.”

“I’ll do you one better than that: follow me.”

Sybelle made for the glass doors, pausing only when silence instead of footsteps followed. She peered over her shoulder to find that the dark mage was transfixed on the foliage creeping up decorative stone spires. “You may return here at your leisure, you know. I’d encourage it, in fact; your complexion borders on downright sickly.”

“And yet, I am willing to bet it is still more inviting than your perpetual scowl… Unfortunately, I do not believe that sunlight can make much of a difference with regard to that.”

So taken aback at the retort, Sybelle was rendered speechless, and fell into the shadow of Lilica’s steps as she followed her inside.

Next Chapter: The Illusion of Choice