Page 170 of Winter Gods & Serpents

Solaryans, the soldiers in Myrdur, the agreement, spies in Hanai and a dead kingdom entangled and wedged between, along my plan to take Winter court made for a great headache but now I had a dead witch to juggle in the mess, and that headache had turned to perpetual overthinking fatigue. No trace, not even a single smudge of it anywhere near castle grounds, Tenebrose and long miles away from it. All of her presence either a fiction of my imagination, which Kilian keeps swearing it wasn’t, or the red haired presumed dead witch had veiled her presence. Nothing fell under the trace of Memphis, a Dyurin blessed with the sharpest senses. When you try and not put much meaning to it, all the reasons justifying her presence that meant nothing suddenly had become reasons why I should fear her. Crafters were not to be messed with, Melanthe even more. Melanthe were to be the next Grand Maiden before Urinthia succeeded and took the role from her hand.

“What are you thinking that has parted your love for food and pinched your concentration this early in the morning?” Kilian asked, annoying me first thing.

I squeezed my eyes tight in concertation and slowly turned to face him, sitting by my side. “Do I really like it better from behind or is it because I don’t find most attractive enough to have them atop facing me?”

He dropped his spoon and rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. “Cynth, spare me.”

Why, what? I found that really funny. The other three facing me were shaking in laughter. Didn’t he say he loved my humour?

“Don’t taunt him Snow, he hasn’t seen the front or the back of anyone in a few months,” Mal said.

Kilian glared death threats to his snickering amused brother, he was too tired to hold on his composure.

“Issues with the little one?” I asked, pointing down at him. Definitely a tease, I knew he had no issues, let alone little.

He shut his eyes tight, dropping his head forward. “I am going to kill you, Mal.” He lifted his hand to punish his brother and I rested mine atop before he could. He turned to me as if a spirit had nudged him, as if I had burnt him.

“Spare him, compensation for being the first to annoy me this morning. I didn’t presume you a man with a fragile ego to be annoyed by this.”

“He isn’t,” Mal called in his defence. “Just raised with a stick up his arse. He was father's golden boy, raised, fed, and trained a soldier. My attitude, and especially yours, is out of the protocol scriptures, it annoys him.”

Why did Mal have a predilection in thinking his brother a pupeteered wooden doll when even I thought him a soft summer cloud.

I cleared my throat, turning to my meal once again. “We are heading to Venzor.”

“What’s in Venzor?” Cai asked.

“A witch, well two if you count my grandmother.”

I could swear a smile rose on the silver eyed snake at my explanation. What was he playing in his head that made him smile? I had not said anything funny enough to have mister sternness here grin so wide. Ridiculous man, probably brewing on whatever sick thoughts of his, or making another perfectly revised speech to lecture me again sometime today.

My friend studied me under suspicious lids, crossing his arms in a posture of doubt. “You hate the hag, and what witch?” Hate was an understatement; I had a list with her name which I intended to cross with a feather tip dipped red with her blood.

“Melanthe, father’s crafter, the one me and Kilian saw from that night had a little sister. If my memory holds strong, she was under the service of my grandmother, a Potioner. The hag loved her and her beauty contraptions. I bet my black heart she still has her.”

Everyone let out gasps of understanding at my plan. Kilian instead sighed loudly, leaning back onto his chair needing rest. This close to the arrangement my actions probably seemed too risky for him to allow me in the way of danger—allow the agreement not to be fulfilled. This had probably been why he had forgone rest to come with us.

“What if she refuses to help? They are sisters after all,” Mal questioned rightfully.

“Oh no dear, no one says no to me. Ask your brother, thrice he has done my bidding without a word.”

He did not replicate, only stared me down through tired lids and unwavering silver halos, it worried me somehow.

“Where does your father think we are heading?” Mal asked, my head snapped away from Kilian, but not disturbing my line of torturous thoughts.

“Brogmere, Cai found Lara’s grandmother, she is willing to take her in. From there we will deviate to Venzor.” I explained.

“I will ready the horses,” Mal announced and they all stood heading towards the stables.

The room slowly emptying one after the other till it was only I, Kilian, and Ken pondering about checking how well his celery porridge had gone down.

“Stay back,” I said, tightening my thigh scabbard, unable to look at him. “You look exhausted.”

“No.”

I rolled my eyes at his stern reply. “Fine, drop dead if you must.”

He grabbed onto my wrist before I made to leave. “You didn’t sleep last night. You said you would. What is troubling you? It seems you have this settled so it must be something else.” My eyes travelled down to where he was holding me, his thumb made circles over my skin, sending shivers down my back and tingles over my stomach.