Damien groaned in the back of his throat at the reminder. “I suppose I should say, when we kissed one another.” He lifted his eyes skyward as a crow called out from above. It broke away from the trees, leaving the leafless branches quivering in the breeze. How in the Abyss was he supposed to say this? “The oracle,” he blurted out, a clever thought striking him like an acorn falling from an oak, “in order to see them, you have to be chaste.”
“But neither of us—”
“Just for a little while, for the, uh…the pilgrimage, as it were,” he lied, continuing forward at a brisker pace so she couldn’t see the clear deceit on his face. “Otherwise, they will not hear your question.”
“Is that thebeing worthypart?” She struggled to catch up.
“Ah, yes?” He had heard that too, that the Denonfy Oracle only showed themself to those who were worthy, but he hadn’tever questioned what that meant; the oracle was just there when he showed up, as he expected.
Would they still consider Damien worthy? He had thrown himself so far off course, he had acted so disparately to who he had always been, he had…well, he had dabbled in beinggood.
“So kissing, and other things, will have to cease.” Damien shook his head, vexed with himself, especially when the softness of Amma’s skin still somehow ghosted against his fingertips when his eyes inevitably fell to her backside, but it was truly worse than all that. Proposing that they shouldn’t engage in any kind of intimate behavior was disheartening, but the more troubling unsaid thing, was that they couldn’t actuallybetogether.
It was a silly thought anyway, Damien knew, the two of them,together. So silly that he couldn’t even laugh, it was just that wonderfully painful. But they couldn’t, and despite the many reasons why, one stuck out to him: that damned cup of noxscura. She hadn’t known what it was, what it did, but she was willing to be reckless and stupid and throw herself into danger for him.
And he didn’t deserve an ounce of her perilous generosity.
“But after the oracle…” said Amma quietly, her hands clasped before her, rosiness in her cheeks and a sheen of wetness on her freshly bitten lip. She looked so ridiculously innocent he wanted nothing more than to ruin her right there.
After the oracle, I will drive you to madness with my tongue so that you believe you were born only for wickedness.
Damien cleared his throat, pulling his eyes away from her. “We shall see.”
Regrettably, his words, hastened by their detached delivery, hung much too heavily in the otherwise light, mountain air. The cold sentiment floated about them like the Grand Order’s arcane miasma, carving into Amma’s cheery attitude. What he would have given to be asked an absurd question or told a superfluousstory as they trudged up the mountainside, but instead his once vociferous companion fell into a bleak silence. At least she held true to their agreement: she remained in his sight even when angry, though the frown creasing her face did nothing to help either of their moods.
“You know,” Damien said as if a thought had just come to him and he hadn’t been mulling over what to say for the past two hours, “I did not reciprocate during our initial getting-to-know-one-another discussion. I should have asked you the things you favored as well.”
Amma’s pout shifted, giving him a small shrug that Vanders found no difficulty riding out. “I guess not.”
He grunted—she was going to make this difficult. He probably deserved that. “So, would you,please, tell me your, what was it, hobbies?”
“Embroidery, I guess. My mother says that’s an attractive skill. I like to read too, but she says that’s less attractive.”
Damien wanted to say that her mother had no idea what she was talking about, but kept that to himself. “Your work with the liathau must have also been enjoyable, yes?”
“Oh, of course.” The corners of her mouth tipped up at that. “Harvesting seeds is a lot of fun because you get to climb the trees, and tending to the saplings is relaxing.”
“Those are quite impressive skills,” he said with perhaps too much eagerness, and she cast suspicious eyes on him. “And I think you asked me what my favorite moon is too?”
Amma chuckled lightly. “Oh, gods, I did ask some silly things, but I was pretty nervous about you killing me and everything. I think I like Ero best, but it’s a toss-up.”
“Food?” he asked, more quickly as the questions came back to him.
“Anything sweet, but especially the little cakes for Midsummer Feast iced in sugar.”
“And color? Wait, let me guess—surely it’s pink.”
“Actually, not anymore. Now it’s—” Amma had finally begun to grin again, a look that told him everything would be all right, but then it swam right off her face, desolation left in its wake.
He waited for her to go on, the answer so obviously right on the tip of her tongue, but instead there was a wall of sorrow that built itself into her features so quickly he could hear the bricks being laid.
“I don’t know, I like a lot of colors.”
Damien had done something wrong again, but he wasn’t sure what. At least this time, she didn’t seem quite so angry when her eyes fell to the trail, watching every careful step upward, she was just sad, and, darkness, that wasmuchworse. Wanting to leave that be, he continued, “I believe you also asked me about my ambitions. What is it you want to do, Amma?”
At this, she thought for a long moment. “I should say,serve my people, but that feels wrong now. I do want them to be happy and looked after and treated well, and I don’t trust the crown to do those things, even with Cedric dead, but I don’t know if I’ll really get the choice, and I can’t imagine standing by while terrible things happen to them. My parents were behaving so strangely, and they really wanted Brineberth’s gold, so I’m not sure if—oh. Oh,no.”
When she came to an abrupt halt, so did Damien. “What’s wrong?”
