The Rifts of Psyche Kyle West (inspirational books for women TXT) 📖

Julia cut her off. “What are you doing, passing time with Cleon? I don’t want you anywhere near a man from Dara.”

“I saw him in the store, and besides, he was the one who talked to me.” She blinked her eyes innocently. “Anyway, we got to talking. He mentioned the hunt, and said the wyverns aren’t much to worry about, that the people of the Golden Vale hardly paid them any mind. The Queen’s magic is enough to tame them. And the Mage-Knights’ valor, of course.”

“That Cleon spins some wild tales,” Kieron grumbled. “You shouldn’t believe every word that comes out of his mouth. You should know better.”

Morgana’s face hardened. “I do know better, Father. I’m thirteen, a grown woman.”

Lucian almost spit out his mystika, until he remembered the years were longer here. That was probably eighteen or nineteen in Earth years.

Kieron waved a warning finger at her. “The fact you’re sniffing around the likes of Cleon and not speaking to this perfectly suitable young man right here tells me you are not grown.”

Lucian coughed. From the corner of his eye, he could see Morgana smirk. Was Kieron hoping to set him up with his daughter? Like rotting hell that was going to happen.

“Kieron,” Julia said. “I think you’ve had enough tonight.”

“Cleon and I were only talking, Father,” Morgana said. “That is not a crime in Kiro, is it?”

Kieron, with some effort, took his hand off his cup of mystika, not seeming to have a response.

It was getting late, and Lucian could no longer hide his fatigue. He tried to stifle a yawn.

“It’s time you got to bed, Lucian,” Julia said. “You’ve a long day tomorrow, and no doubt had an exhausting one today.”

“What about our parlor games?” Morgana asked. “I wanted to be partnered with Lucian.”

Kieron looked up at that. “Well, if Lucian isn’t opposed . . .”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Lucian said. “I can’t keep my eyes open a minute longer.”

“He’s tired,” Julia said, her tone brooking no argument. “Morgana, could you show him to bed?”

“I’d be delighted,” she said, her voice far too cheery. Before he could protest, she took his hand and guided him toward the ladder. There had to be more than one room up there, because that seemed to be where Morgana’s quarters were, and surely, they wouldn’t put him, a stranger, in the same room as her. She went up the ladder, and he waited until she was at the top before he followed.

What he found was a cozy space, with a small bed in the corner, a chest, and then another cot which had been made up on the opposite side. Well, it did look as if he’d be sharing the space with Morgana, but it seemed flirtation was far from her thoughts for the moment.

“This is your bed,” she said, her voice somewhat cold as she led him to the cot. “I hope it’s comfortable enough.” Lucian just stared, wondering how he was going to survive the night. Morgana watched him, arching an eyebrow. “What? Are you waiting for me to tuck you in? Or do you want a story?”

“Morgana, are you mad about earlier?”

“Of course,” she said. “That was uncalled for!”

Lucian wanted to argue, but it would be better to just agree with her and apologize. He would be out of here tomorrow, and the last thing he needed was drama. “You’re right. I went a bit too far.”

“Save it,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Look, I’m sorry it had to come to that earlier, but you were crossing the line. I dealt with it as I saw fit.”

She was already heading down the ladder, completely ignoring him. Lucian shook his head. It was useless, but at least he had the space to himself for now.

He pulled back his own blanket, opting to keep his clothes on, given the circumstances. The sooner he got some shuteye, the better.

It was quiet, and Lucian was so tired that he had almost completely nodded off, safe in the knowledge that his Psionic ward was still active. Reaching for his Focus, he could feel its presence, as well as his depleted supply of ether. The ward should last him the rest of the night.

Within moments, Lucian was asleep.

18

Lucian awoke to someone grasping him from above. He was about to shout, but felt a hand over his mouth.

“Hush, now,” Morgana said. “You’ll wake everyone. This is important.”

Though her voice was calm, there was something in it that seemed off. He didn’t trust it. Lucian writhed away, but she stood before his cot, blocking his escape. In the darkness, her eyes held a curious violet glow.

“Morgana, what are you doing?”

“Please, listen. There isn’t much time. I can’t be here long.”

Can’t be here long? What in the Worlds was she talking about?

“You must tell me where you’re going, Lucian. More is at stake than you know. We are allies, not enemies, as others would have you believe.”

“Morgana, what in the Worlds . . .?”

At once, he realized the truth: those violet eyes were a sign of Psionic control. And he remembered where he had heard that same tone of voice.

The person possessing Morgana was none other than the Sorceress-Queen herself.

“How is this possible?”

“Never mind that. You are Chosen, Lucian. And we must work together for the good of all. I have a plan, but it requires your help. Get to the Deepfork, and I can explain more.”

“What’s your plan?”

“There isn’t time, Lucian. It’s hard to reach you from this far. If you try to get the Orb on your own, you will never make it.”

“I can’t trust you,” he said, hardly believing he was talking to the Sorceress-Queen. “Your men tried to kill me in the Greenrift.”

“Kill? No they didn’t. They were trying to find you. More is at stake than you know. Remember the Deepfork, Lucian. Meet me there.”

Morgana cried out and tumbled forward, the violet in her eyes fading. Lucian ran forward to catch her.

Footsteps ran up from the floor below, toward the ladder.

“What’s