Page 37 of The Deathless One
Wincing, she froze in the doorway. “Sybil?”
“You’ve been gone for a while.” The witch slid into the meager sunlight that just barely sliced through the window. “And I see you’ve been out… shopping?”
Right. This conversation was going to happen, no matter what. She had known that Sybil would eventually find out that she’d stolen from the other woman, and money like that wasn’t easy to come by. And she was also very aware that there weren’t a lot of places that gave any support to a woman who was clearly a witch.
Sighing, she hunched her shoulders as she prepared herself for the scolding of a lifetime. “If I am going to find out why my mother died and how to get the throne back, then I need to dress the part. No one is going to take me seriously in rags.”
“So you stole them?”
Another wince. “No,” Jessamine replied before straightening her shoulders and forcing herself to look the other woman in the eye. “I paid for them.”
“With whose money?”
“Yours.”
Sybil didn’t respond. She just arched her brow and crossed her arms over her chest.
This was just like when her mother scolded her. The stinging in her chest only made her realize just how deeply she’d forgotten herself. Wallowing in the reality of her own pain didn’t bring her mother any closer. In this moment, it felt like the soul of her mother was staring down at her in disappointment.
So Jessamine did the only thing she knew how to do in moments like this.
Confess.
“I snuck into your room to see if there was anything I could steal from you to get the clothing. I didn’t want to leave someone else with a lack of materials, and I know that means I likely chose their well-being over your own. But it does seem like you make life easier for yourself without ever leaving this place. What money you have, I don’t know what your plan was for it. And I do realize it was the wrong thing to do. I am sorry. I will try my best to replace it, but know that once I am back on my throne, I will do everything I can to make up for it.”
Still, silence. Sybil looked her over, calculating and clearly disappointed, but then she… shrugged?
“All right,” Sybil finally said. “I was wondering when you’d start acting like a witch, anyway.”
“I—” More apologies stuck in Jessamine’s throat. What did she mean by that?
“Come on.” Sybil turned and started down the hall. “I figured you’d be getting hungry by now. Yes?”
“I suppose.” Her stomach rumbled. “I’m very hungry, yes. There were quite a few infected on my way into the city.”
“But not on your way out?”
The witch really didn’t miss much. “No, on the way back they all seemed to have moved on. It’s not like they’re hard to get away from, it’s just… Well, I was led to believe there were a lot more, too.”
Come to think of it, she didn’t know how there weren’t any infected bothering Sybil’s home. Everyone had always made it seem like the infected were crawling around every part of her city. Her mother hadn’t let Jessamine even leave their castle grounds for a good while before everything had fallen apart.
A tiny mew broke through her thoughts, then the thunder of paws as the kitten came careening around the corner. Like a little black hurricane, it zinged from wall to wall before stopping right in front of her.
Jessamine watched with wide eyes, but the little beastie just arched its back and rubbed against her legs.
“Miss me?” she asked, stooping and picking the little one up. Immediately it pressed against her neck. An impressive rumble started up, sounding much less like a cat and far more like a tiger.
As they wandered through the moss-covered halls toward the kitchen, Sybil snorted. “A stray you found?”
“A familiar,” she corrected. The kitten wound itself around her neck, balancing on her shoulder before stretching over both like some kind of living stole. “The Deathless One claimed all witches have them.”
“I…” Sybil shook her head, a faint smile crossing her features. “Some do, yes. They are exceedingly rare gifts from a patron, however. You are lucky to have one.”
Jessamine tried very hard not to think about what that meant. All she knew was that she had one, and the warm kitten helped ease all her fears as it kneaded tiny claws into her shoulder with every step.
Clearing her throat, Sybil gestured for Jessamine to step into the kitchen ahead of her. “About the infected. I’m sure your advisors wanted you to believe this city is crawling with them. The infected are a problem, don’t get me wrong. But they’re easily confused, and they really don’t bother anyone too much unless they’re in a pack. Then it’s a much larger issue.”
“A pack?”
