The Rifts of Psyche by Kyle West (i love reading .txt) 📕

“Stop your gawking,” Cleon said. “She invited you here to impress you. To awe you with her power. And it looks like it’s working.”

“It is impressive,” Serah said. “You have to admit.”

A couple of more minutes of walking brought them before a simpler door, though it was still intricately carved.

“This will be your room,” Mage-Lord Kiani said to Lucian, his manner harsh. Clearly, being the butler was above his calling. “A man named Jarvis should be by soon to tend to your needs.”

“Thanks,” Cleon said. “If I’m hungry, should I put in an order with you, or Jarvis?”

The Mage-Lord’s mouth curled in distaste. “I’ll have the last laugh in the end, traitor. All four of you are to wait within for Jarvis’s arrival.”

The Mage-Lord departed, along with his retinue of Mage-Knights. Not a single person was left behind to watch over them. Either the Queen was confident in her security, or she had made a deadly lapse in judgment.

“Well, now is a golden opportunity to escape if we ever had it,” Cleon said.

“Fool,” Fergus said. “Can you not feel all the wards around here? Not even my strongest counter-wards will see us escaping this place without tipping her off. We’ve been hooked.”

“Fergus is right about that,” Serah said. “The question is, do we go along with this charade?”

“Yes, if we value our lives,” Fergus said. “We’ve no choice but to play along.”

“You’re right about that, I guess.” Cleon shook his head, his expression darkening. “Besides, I couldn’t leave my sister behind. I have to fix the past if I’m to ever live with myself.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Lucian asked.

“This is my own problem. I got her into this mess, so I have to get her out.”

“Cleon,” Serah said, “don’t do anything stupid. We’re here to find the Orb, remember?”

“That’s right,” Fergus said. “Our mission has not failed yet. But it could if you get us into trouble with the Queen.”

“Are you kidding me?” Cleon asked. “We already are in trouble with the Queen.”

“We should get inside the room,” Lucian said. “Anyone could be listening out here.”

They went inside, and Lucian saw immediately that it was no mere room. It was an entire apartment, and a sizeable one at that. They stood in a marbled entry hall. A set of stairs ascended to the right, leading to some upper rooms, while the lower floor held a parlor with cozy couches and a fireplace. A door at the back led into what looked like a bathroom, while on the right was a richly appointed bedroom with a four-post king size bed. Everything inside was warmly lit by a fire in the hearth and hanging lights, the source of the light seeming to be some sort of oil. Wide windows in the parlor also admitted a small amount of light; it was all the afternoon twilight outside was capable of.

All Lucian could do was wonder whether that bathroom had a shower in it. He ran forward and opened the door, finding a large tub with a copper faucet. When he turned the knob, warm water came out.

“Hot damn! They have hot water here!”

Fergus followed from behind and reached his hand into the water. “I haven’t felt hot running water since . . . Irion, I guess. In the hotel the night before they took me to the Academy.”

“A Thermal brand, maybe?” Serah said. “Or perhaps a furnace heating it somewhere. Either way, I call dibs.”

“Are you crazy?” Cleon asked. “Keep your guard up. This could all be a trap!”

“Well, I haven’t had a real bath in months,” Serah said. “If I die, at least I’ll be clean. You boys have five seconds to get out of here.”

“Come on, give her some space,” Fergus said.

“Thanks Fergie,” she said. “Mind the door, would you?”

Fergus closed the door, leaving the three men standing awkwardly in the parlor. Serah’s splashing was the only thing breaking the silence. Well, at least she was enjoying herself.

They went to the couches and sat, since it seemed there was nothing else to do.

“We need to come up with a plan,” Cleon said.

“A plan for what?” Fergus asked.

“In case they come to murder us all, obviously.” The tone of his voice stated this outcome was natural.

“No one’s going to be killing us, Cleon,” Lucian said. “At least, not unless we give them a reason to.”

“You’re on her side now, aren’t you? I should’ve known. The Witch has gotten into your head. I’m not sure which head, but probably the smaller one.”

“You can’t be serious,” Lucian said, indignant. “I’m here for the Orb, and like it or not, we need her help to find it.”

“Are you sure she isn’t using magic on you? That’s the only reason you could be acting as you are.”

“Calm down, you two,” Fergus said. “Lucian hasn’t been branded by her. If she had, I would know it.”

“It’s the Sorceress-Queen,” Cleon said. “We’ve established that she’s strong, so perhaps she has ways of branding that escape our notice. So why wouldn’t she be able to control Lucian’s mind while covering her tracks?”

“Because successful mind control requires some complicity. He would have to agree to let her do it, on some level.” Fergus looked at Lucian. “Lucian would have never done that. And if she were to force it, it would be too draining on her faculties, leaving her vulnerable to other attacks.”

Could that have been why the Queen was trying to make him like her, to make him voluntarily give up control? The prospect almost made him shudder.

Cleon was looking at him in a way that said he doubted his loyalty.

“I’m not on her side,” Lucian said. “I don’t agree with her or her methods. But I know it’s impossible to get the Orb of Psionics without her.”

“You didn’t think it was impossible before,” Cleon said.

“Yeah . . . that was before we went into the Darkrift, before I saw how rough the terrain is on the way here. And I’m sure once we’re