Teagan by Sharilyn Skye

Author:Sharilyn Skye [Skye, Sharilyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Horse Publishing
Published: 2020-04-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Syl’ta

I went into the storeroom to wash up and grab an apron; my hands shook as I reached for it. I clamped them together to stop the tremors. It didn’t help, and they wormed their way through my body until I sank against the wall, a trembling, shaking mess. I fought to control the spasms that shook my body and failed.

I knew Teagan was a warrior, most Erhu women are, but she is not Eruhini. She is filled with so much light and heat that it is easy to forget she has a fighter’s soul. After that moment, I would always remember that Teagan is a warrior.

Ang’ali is twice her size and a hundred times more brutal, but Teagan marked her throat with her sword that moved faster than the eye could track, daring Ang’ali to challenge her further. Ang’ali backed down. I will remember that moment forever. The only reason Teagan is not First Sword is that the Queen does not fight newcomers. I’ve seen my sister fight; she is no match for Teagan in speed or strength. I saw that now.

Ang’ali has twice the mass Teagan does, and it matters not. Teagan’s power choked the air from the tunnel and danced down her sword. She is fierce. She will be Queen; I saw it as plainly as I see that her eyes are golden, and her skin is brown. She will be Queen. She gives not one fuck about the rest of it.

I sat in the dark as my racing heart calmed. I wasn’t expected today. The butcher was a kind, old woman with knowing eyes and a decent heart. Stolen long ago from a softer place, she never made warrior rank, but her skill with meat kept her in the capital.

“Trouble, Syl’ta?” she asked, using my name as only one other female does.

“No, Madame,” I said with a sigh, fighting for composure. Ang’ali could make our lives miserable. A word from her could end not only Teagan but the rest of us as well before we had a chance to grow a revolution.

“A lie,” she said. Whatever place Madame Zaya came from had magic. She could sense a lie and a truth the moment words left the speaker’s mouth. “You have lady troubles. Is your new Mistress unkind?” she asked.

“No, my lady,” I said, knowing I have already said too much.

“Not a lie. Your new Mistress is kind to you. I know not her face, but I hear her name. She comes to me in visions, and I know what she’s about. You too, Syl’ta. I know your heart, and it is good. The risks are high, but the reward is greater. I believe,” she said, turning a rheumy eye my way. “Spread your tales here; you are safe. I have faith,” she said, giving me a salty wink.

She closed the door and left me. I took a stuttering breath and got up from the floor, fastening my apron around my leather studded skirt. Opening the door, I picked up a knife and went to carve into the side of horned Cervidae before me.

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