The Misbegotten by Justin DePaoli

Author:Justin DePaoli [DePaoli, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Conduit Books
Published: 2016-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

There were plenty of misfortunes that could have befallen Vayle and me as we sat at the fountain, pondering our revelation concerning Sybil Tath’s wedding. For instance, the ice beneath us could have cracked, soaking our asses in water so cold we wouldn’t have been able to feel our cheeks for weeks. Unlikely, yes, but possible and perhaps preferable to what actually happened.

What actually happened was that the doors of the Edenvaile keep opened, and a woman dressed in heavy wools from her neck to her toes stepped out.

Sybil Tath.

She looked as if she’d just woken up, her black hair askew and wavy. It was too bad she hadn’t fallen into a permanent sleep.

She gripped the iron baluster that edged along the stone steps leading up to the castle front. She slowly descended into the market district courtyard, careful of her every step on the snow and ice that blanketed this city.

It was strange seeing her like this. The last time I’d laid eyes on her, dried mud had streaked her cheeks and days-old blood had dotted her chapped lips. I’d felt sorry for her. I’d felt… well, it didn’t matter now. In the end, it was all a ruse. All a trick to gain my trust, and I had fallen for it.

Sybil picked her eyes up and a cast a narrow gaze into the courtyard. Her head cocked and her mouth fell agape.

“Astul? Astul!”

With a smile so fake not even the drunkest merchant would buy it, she shuffled her feet along the strips of ice hurriedly. It almost looked like she was skating. When she reached the fountain, she leaned down and embraced me in what was possibly the most uncomfortable hug I’d ever experienced.

Still, I had a job to do, and that job didn’t consist of revealing my overwhelming need to stick a knife in her throat… yet.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she said, holding my shoulders as she pushed away. She nodded at Vayle. “Commander Vayle. How are you?”

“Cold,” Vayle said.

“I imagine you are. Would you like some more wools? We have plenty in the keep.”

Vayle lifted the skin of wine she’d been nursing. “I’ll be warm soon enough, Lady Sybil. My thanks.”

Sybil shied away at the mention of her title. “Please don’t call me that. You’ve more than earned the right to address me simply as Sybil. If not for you, I wouldn’t be alive, much less marrying the man I love.”

“This,” I said, “is all a little surprising. After all, it was just a few weeks ago I questioned whether you two would ever marry. I believe that question came while you were freeing me from the dungeon. Thanks again for that, by the way.”

Sybil inhaled the bitter air around her. "Chachant had intended on giving me the wedding of my dreams soon as he became king. But… his father’s death delayed that. He spilled his heart to me, and I saw tears well in his eyes. Vileoux’s death had consumed him. He apologized and made immediate plans for the wedding.

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