Dakelo. (Book 2 of the White Lily Trilogy)

Chapter 12- Confrontation,

    “You wanted to see me, My Mistress?” Thiryqa asked. Isildilia sat on the edge of her sleeping hollow when she had asked for her guard to come in and see her.

      It had been a few days since the vasimol fight. Thinking back on it still sent shudders up her spine. She could still feel the creature prizing into her mind, where even White Lily couldn’t throw it off. It was like a knife was in being embedded in her head when it started to pull at the threads of her mind. It was reading the memories for his amusements, despite the unbearable pain it caused her. She tried anything to push it away, to hide things from it, but it was too strong. This was the creature’s speciality, and it was by far more experienced than her.

It was the reason of her outburst.

     That chilled her more than the vasimol’s actions.  What she hated more was that, this time, it wasn’t White Lily acting out, it was her own doing. She lashed out like a cornered animal. Brutality had never been in her…nature, despite what is clearly the norm amongst her species, so she hated to admit her own display frightened her and sickened her.

       But that wasn’t the reason Thiryqa was called before her. Since the vasimol rummaged through her mind the fits had become more frequent. She had at least three each day, and she was at her limit in coping with them. She even had one fit in the middle of sparing practice with Fire Tongue earlier that day, resulting in a painful bruising up her left arm.

    “Yes, Thiryqa. I need to ask a…personal favour.” His eyebrows knitted together as he frowned at her.

    “What would that be?” Isildilia bit her lower lip; she hated to divulge the details of her conditions to more than a select few. However, after some studying, she knew if anyone could help, he could. Tilting her head back and releasing a deep breath, she began to explain her situation. When she finished explaining it the best she could, she noticed he was shaking his head and grinding the butt of his spear into the ground.

    “Mistress, if you knew what I was, you should have approached me sooner.”

    “It wasn’t until the event considering the vasimol that I did some research. The techniques felt…familiar to someone else I knew.” She smirked, looking at him. His scowl deepened and his wings fluttered, almost in disgust.

    “Just a common ancestor, my kind and theirs went their separate ways many generations ago. We do not abuse our abilities for the sport of the hunt. It’s barbaric. Besides, what I did back then was an accident, a lack of control from my weakness.” He huffed in embarrassment.

    “And do you think you can help?” she asked, bringing them back on topic. Thiryqa made a strange whistling sound and fingered the silver headband he always wore upon his brow. With a firm decision in mind, he slipped it off his head and held it out to her.

     “Wear this,” he said. She took it off him and admired it in the light. There was nothing notable different to it, compared to other  simple pieces of jewellery. But the centre piece of a small holly-green gem was rather appealing.

   “What will this do?” she asked. Thiryqa reached up and winced as he rubbed his temple.

    “It helps to, suppress the voices. It forms a type of barrier around the wearers mind, only those in very close contact can still contact the wearer.”

     “How close?” she asked.

      “Like how you could contact me while in the healing room. That sort of close contact, but beyond that it’s impossible.”

        It’s perfect, White Lily said. How did we not think to ask earlier?

      Will this affect our conversation? Isildilia asked out of concern.