“You’re not there to make friends.”
Emira fidgeted. “I doubt they’ll take me seriously if I confront them.”
“Niv felt the same way when she started interacting with the council. I encouraged her to show confidence, even if she didn’t feel it. People will believe a confidently told lie over a timid truth.”
“I don’t want to lie to them,” she said.
“I’m not suggesting that. I mean that your tone and demeanor sometimes matter more than what you are saying.”
Emira sighed. “I have no idea what I’m doing. Niv was wrong to place so much trust in me.”
She took Emira’s sweaty hand. “Leaving you in charge was one of Niv’s best decisions. I helped her, and I’ll help you.”
Emira returned a tentative smile.
She recalled her conversations with Niv’leana soon after taking power. She had much the same concerns, but the Amulet of Balance around her neck commanded more respect from the council. Without it, she had to admit Emira would have a more difficult time. “You know, I’ve actually had a terrible few days,” she admitted. “But you didn’t know that until I told you, did you?”
Emira studied her closely. “Well, your hair…”
She leaned forward, ran her fingers through her hair again, then swooshed back in attempt to tame her locks.
“Today is a terrible day for my hair. But you still have confidence in me, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Emira said. “You are wise.”
She leaned her elbow against the back of the bench and cradled her forehead. “I don’t feel wise right now. I have a growing headache, and an anxious heart. Do you see the power of presence? Of your own countenance?”
Emira nodded. “So, I need to… pretend that I am confident?”
“At first, yes. And someday soon you’ll have forgotten you ever had to fake it. The habit will be permanent.”
“Makes sense. I’ll give it a try.”
“Good. I assure you, it will work. And if you run into any more trouble, please let me know. I can be convincing.”
Emira chuckled. “I won’t ask you to charm the council.”
For a split second, she felt a flash of pleasure. The thought of manipulating one of the Ael’Shanar council members brought her a quick, brief thrill.
Emira leaned closer. “Amber flashed in your eyes.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’ve… never seen the Skilla gaze before.”
“It was not aimed at you,” she replied.
“I can help ease that headache,” Emira said.
“No. I don’t think that would work.”
“You don’t think my healing magic would work?”
“Oh… no, I…” she dismissed her completely ridiculous assumption. “I didn’t mean that.”
“What did you think I offered?” Emira asked.
She looked away. “Nothing. Anyway, yes, I would love some healing.”
“You thought I wanted to…”
She chuckled. “I’m still a Skilla after all.”
Emira stood and extended her hands. “Come to one of the healing rooms. I’ll give you a complete treatment. And just so you know, I’m not into women.”
Her face turned red. “I didn’t imply you were. As I said, I’ve been off the past few days.”
Emira grinned. “Although Skilla are rumored to be the best lovers in the world. Is that true?”
She stood. “You, my dear, will never find out.”
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Emira said. “I’ve never seen you blush.”
She motioned toward the building. “Let’s go.”
So that’s what this feeling is… embarrassment.
She’d never felt that before. Embarrassment was not part of a Skilla’s emotional repertoire. She reluctantly added her strange emotional state and clumsy, awkward moment with Emira to her overflowing list of concerns.
She needed help.
Chapter 20
Olivia disrobed and slipped on a thin gown before entering the treatment room. She laid on the padded table and closed her eyes while Emira prepared to treat her.
Emira ran her outstretched palms from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, a hair’s distance from her body. She felt her magic penetrating deeply, searching for any trouble spots. Emira repeated the procedure twice, slowing her pace as she proceeded.
“I’m not detecting any serious physical issues,” Emira said.
“Any non-serious ones?”
“There is a bit of… congestion in your lower abdomen.”
Olivia propped herself on her elbows. “Congestion?”
Emira struggled for words. “Heaviness.”
“Ah… it’s called being very single for a very long time.”
A small grin escaped the corner of Emira’s mouth. “I don’t know a lot about Skilla physiology, but isn’t sexual release essential for your body?”
“It is,” she replied. “Without it, we can go insane, or even worse.”
“Worse?” Emira asked.
“We produce an abundance of sexual energy. If not sated for a long time it can kill us.”
“That’s what I thought. Then… isn’t the solution simple?”
She sighed. “If only it was. I assure you I have given it a tremendous amount of effort.” She sat on the side of the table. “I don’t feel pleasure. Not just sexual pleasure, but any pleasure.”
Emira fetched a large clear crystal and pointed to the table. “Lie back down, please, Olivia. I’d like to scan your head again.”
She did as asked and closed her eyes. The crystal amplified Emira’s penetrating energy, creating a palatable buzzing sensation throughout her scalp. She would normally consider receiving energy a pleasurable experience, but as she had recently come to expect, there was nothing.
Out of the darkness, a vibrant image of Kytis flashed across her visual field. It startled her so much she opened her eyes and took a sharp breath. “Him,” she said. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of it?”
“Who?” Emira asked.
“Didn’t you see him? Kytis. He was standing there, arms open, as though calling to me.”
“Isn’t he—”
“Half-Skilla? Yes. He might be able to help.” She sat up and turned to Emira. “You didn’t see him?”
Emira shook her head. “No. In fact… I sensed less than I normally do during a scan like this. Everything was… muted. Like looking through a dirty window.”
“It’s probably a symptom of whatever is going on with me.”
“I’m not sure.”
She hopped down from the table. “In any case, I need to find Kytis.” She paused as she thought about how she might approach him without overwhelming guilt.
“Can another Skilla really help in a situation like this?” Emira asked.
“Maybe. At least I hope so. It’s just…”
It was clear Emira wanted to ask, but she seemed to sense it was a complicated subject. She looked concerned but didn’t prompt for anything further. Olivia appreciated that.
She straightened her gown. “I’ll have to get over it. The worst he can say is no.”.
Emira’s hand rested on her shoulder. “Would you like me to go with you?”
She seriously considered her offer. “No… this is something I must do. I’ve put it off for far too long. Maybe my guilt is making all of this worse.”
“Perhaps,” Emira said. “Olivia, is there anything I can do?”
“Probably not. But… you’ve done enough already.”
Emira took her hands in hers. “If you need me, I’m here.”
She gently squeezed. “That goes for you, too.”
“Good luck, Olivia.”
She could barely get dressed for shaking. The thought of talking with Kytis terrified her. But seeing him during Emira’s scan was no coincidence. Despite her fear, she left the temple and set out to find him. She desperately hoped he could help.
Chapter 21
The attendant at the hotel informed Olivia that Kytis was in his suite, so she went up to his room and knocked on the door. There was a long pause before he answered.
An enthusiastic smile reached his eyes. “A pleasure to see you, Olivia.”
She nodded. “Good day, Kytis.”
A curly-haired woman peeked around the corner. “Olivia!” Frasie rushed to embrace her. “How are you?”
“I’ve… been better. What are you doing here, Frasie?”
Frasie grinned. “Kytis is painting a picture of me.” She pointed to a canvas. “Want to see?”
She surveyed the half-completed artwork. Frasie was sitting upright on a sofa, elegantly posed. Rather than the bubbly girl she usually saw, the image portrayed a strong, confident woman. Her hair elegantly danced over her bare shoulders, her cleavage seemed more pronounced than usual, and her hands exhibited a more feminine quality. This was no agile huntress. This was a woman of society.
Strangely, the revealing dress and hairstyle worn in the painting didn’t match what Frasie wore. Her hair was its usual cute mess, her dress plain and unassuming, and her countenance was far from poised elegance.
Frasie barely contained a jump of excitement. “What do you think?”
“You are quite a talented artist, Kytis,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“I look so pretty, don’t I?” Frasie asked.
“Oh, Frasie, you are pretty.”
She hung her head. “Not really. At least not in real life.” She perked up and pointed again to the painting. “But in this, I’m… sophisticated.”
“I merely uncover what is already there,” Kytis said.
Frasie blushed and looked away in embarrassment.
“I didn’t realize you were busy, Kytis. I’ll come back later.”
“Nonsense,” he said, then turned to Frasie. “I don’t require you to sit for the rest of the painting. I can finish it.”
“Alright. Are you sure?”
“I am,” he said. He put his arm around her shoulder. “Frasie, my dear, I adore your company, and it is truly a privilege to paint such a beautiful woman. But I sense that Olivia needs me.”
“I understand. I’ll check back with you tomorrow.”
“That will be fine.”
Frasie gave him a quick hug then left.
Oliva remained next to the painting and continued to study it in detail. “I wanted to be a painter when I was a young girl.”
“Oh? Why didn’t you become one?”
“Life interfered with my dreams. And boys.” She sighed. “It was mostly boys, I suppose.”
He offered her some tea, but she declined. “It has always confounded me how women so easily abandon their worldly ambitions for love, yet it is love, at least in part, that drives me to obtain their worldly desires—if nothing but to gift them to their adored.”
She ran her hand along the back of a love seat. “Love makes us do strange things.”
“Please, sit, Olivia. I’d like to speak to you about my mother.”
A lump formed in her throat. “You would?”
He nodded and pointed toward the couch. “Please.”
She sat. “What do you want to know?”
He took a biscuit from the tea service. “She was your best friend, right?”
“Yes, she was.”
“I wasn’t able to visit her as often as I would have liked. So, while we were close, we rarely saw each other in person. You were with her often, so anything you can tell me will be helpful.”
She took a deep breath as she recalled her years in Lahara. “Narelle was a special woman. I had a great deal of admiration for her. The way she navigated her husband’s political affairs was astonishing. She made it look so easy. She never lost her cool—at least not that I saw.”
“I know she was fond of you. In her letters she would mention that you both enjoyed shopping for dresses.”
“Well, as you know, Kytis, it is the duty of a Skilla to be well-dressed. Narelle and I had quite large wardrobes. All of that was lost when the city fell.”
Kytis took a sip of tea. “My mother loved that city.”
“Yes… She fought for it till the end.”
Kytis set down his teacup. “About her death…”
Anxiety swelled within her. Why wasn’t misery taken as well as passion and pleasure? On the way to the hotel she considered telling him the truth, but that was when he wasn’t sitting across from her.
“Yes?”
“Did you see her die?” he asked.
She almost answered honestly. She wanted to get better and giving Kytis the correct information would help. But no matter her pain, she couldn’t put that burden on Narelle’s son. She licked her lips and kept that bit of truth to herself.
“We had become separated. I was defending Niv’leana, and she was fighting waves of undead from Lahara.”
“I see. My question may sound morose, but I ask because the details around her death are uncertain. It would bring me a tremendous sense of relief to know that her death was quick… and she didn’t die alone.”
Narelle’s contorted, agonizing expression flashed through her mind. She knew the faint burning smell was from the soot in the fireplace, yet it reminded her of her best friend’s scorched flesh. She wanted to tell him. She needed to tell him.
“I can see this is difficult for you,” he added.
“It is.”
She thought of several different ways to confess but couldn’t summon the courage to go through with any of them.
“I have a confession of my own to make,” he said.
She tensed. Did he know what she was thinking? “Oh?”
“Yes. I spent time with Niv, Frasie, and even Aiden. I don’t think he likes me so much, but… that I cannot help. But you, Olivia—I wanted to connect with you. You are one of the reasons I came to Selandis.”
“Really?”
“Indeed. As I said, I knew you and my mother were good friends. Spending time with you and talking about her give me a sense she’s still here.” He looked away. “That probably doesn’t make much sense.”
“Oh no, it does,” she said. “I understand completely. I am glad it brought you some comfort.”
He carefully studied her expression. “It doesn’t seem to give you comfort, though. You are clearly sad. I am sorry if—”
“No, it’s not you or our conversation. I’ve been… out of sorts lately.”
“Out of sorts?”
She fidgeted. “Not myself. I haven’t felt any pleasure for quite some time. It’s driving me a bit… crazy, to be honest.”
“I’m terribly sorry. Do you have any idea what is wrong?”
“No. My physical health seems unaffected. I even had Emira scan me to find out what was wrong, but she saw nothing. Except…”
“Yes?”
“Well… While she was scanning my head, I had a brief… vision, of sorts. I saw you.”
“Me?”
“I don’t understand why. But I never ignore a hunch or vision. That’s why I came to you.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you did.”
She shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t want to bother you in your time of grief. Listening to my problem is the last thing you need.”
“Not at all,” he replied. “In fact, this trip, and the people I’ve met on it, have been good for me.”
“Have you ever heard of a Skilla unable to feel any pleasure whatsoever?”
He thought a moment. “Never. Your illness is quite unusual.”
“My vision couldn’t have been coincidence.”
“I agree.” He stood and walked to the window. “My paintings are more than pieces of art.” She looked across the room at the painting of Frasie as he spoke. “They are infused with magic. The images seem to jump off the canvas because they are alive.”
“A truly remarkable gift.”
He removed the painting of Frasie from his easel and s
et up a fresh canvas. He pointed his paintbrush at her. “One that I will use to aid you, Olivia. Together, we will get to the bottom of what ails you.”
Chapter 22
The southern plains ended abruptly at the Nell River. Niv and Saros arrived there in the late afternoon, so they decided to stop for the evening.
It was as though the creator had taken a fountain pen filled with crystal-clear water and drawn a curly line through the land. The rolling, fertile fields graced its north side, and to the south, a large, dense forest blanketed the remainder of the southeastern portion of the Selandis continent.
Fortunately, a stone bridge arched across the Nell River. Niv had seen it on her maps but was unsure of its existence. It was no ordinary bridge. Its stones were huge—too large to be moved by hand. The massive, sturdy blocks must have been moved by magic.
The next morning, she had no fear in traversing the magnificently architected bridge. When they reached the other side, their progress was hampered by frequently protruding branches and twigs in the road. Clearly the path south from this point was less traveled. The southeastern forests were sparsely populated, providing a perfect secluded home for the Druids.
Up until the forest, the highway had numerous turnoffs and crossings, but they had seen none since the river. The trees, sounds, and even the scents in the air seemed familiar, but she felt no particularly strong pull in any direction.
“How long are we to descend into this dark hole of a forest, High Priestess?” Saros asked.
She thought of delivering some motivational reply, but in all honesty, she had thought the same question herself. “I don’t know.”
“The south sea is about two weeks away. And I’m due back in town in a week. I can’t stay here long.”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“Hrmph.”
After another hour of travel, Saros stopped.
“I’m no expert on Druids. Never met one myself. But I know they aren’t ones to get lost.”
“I wish my father were here,” she said.
“So, you’re half-Druid?”
She nodded. “Yes, but… A Druid who can’t find her grove is clearly not much of a Druid.”
He looked behind them. “This whole trip you haven’t mentioned once you were a Druid.”
Olivia Page 7
