COF 2: The Soul Spells

22 | Reveal (I)

2412 Strilaxis 23, Velpa

The hours that followed after were a blur in Xanthy's mind. With Kymalin gone, Ezril and the Rekshais were able to whip the Necrom back into submission and soon, the soldiers were being hauled into the Temple's lower floors. Xanthy could only guess what would happen to them.

Xanthy sat with her friends on a table salvaged from the kitchens. Two of its legs were missing which prompted Reeca to prop it against a window ledge that happened to be the same width. The varichria had also weaved them chairs from the mattresses they found lying around in the room. From there, Xanthy nibbled on butterbread June procured from the kitchens for her.

It must have shown in her face that she's not fine. Even now, as she had eaten her fourth butterbread, June was still glancing at her with a worried expression. From across Xanthy, however, Ravalee blinked at her as she reached for the last piece of bread from the basket. It was the same look of horror the brownie had given Xanthy back at the royal feast.

Xanthy shrugged. Ravalee had been through so much the past few days. Let her worry about Xanthy's eating habits for a while more.

Reeca was telling them the story of how Ezril had dealt with Kymalin in the throne room. Xanthy blinked. That's almost the same time as Xanthy, Cyrdel, and Ravalee had been battling spirits in the floor just above the throne room. Odd. If they had been merely minutes late, they would have gotten caught up in the middle of that fight.

"Then, I bashed Kymalin's face on my knee," Reeca was saying. Xanthy flicked a glance at Ravalee and Cyrdel to see the paleness had shadowed their brown skin.

"Maybe skip to the end of the fight?" Xanthy turned to the varichria with a raised eyebrow. The varichria shrugged.

"Ezril dealt with Kymalin. I stopped the High Priestess from killing Kymalin," Reeca crossed her arms and leaned against the back cushion of her chair. "She let Kymalin go."

Xanthy's eyes widened. "What?" she shook her head. "She should have been stuck in a prison or something!"

"She'd be dead by now if I left her to Ezril's hands," Reeca rubbed her arms like the fog and the cold were suddenly getting into her. "Kymalin's soul will not even make it to the afterlife."

Xanthy, too, shivered despite the heat of the day. She leaned her wrist against the table, a half-eaten butterbread between her fingers. "But still..."

Reeca met Xanthy's eyes. "Still," the varichria started. A pause. Reeca tousled her short, golden hair. "She'll be back. She'll do whatever she can to get back to the Heiress's good graces after this defeat."

"That makes her more dangerous then," June's face darkened as he tapped his chin.

Xanthy regarded June from her periphery as she started out of the window and into the silhouettes of mountain peaks and trees beyond. His eyes were dark. He propped his injured arm on top of the table and Xanthy blinked at the hurried bandage tied around his wounds. Oh dear. Did he do it on his own? "We should be ready for her to strike anytime," June was saying.