Everyone sobers, and I answer, “As soon as possible. We still have questions about the location of the stone. The book says nothing about what happened to it. If we can save time by getting clear directions, it would be best.”
As if they were waiting for this moment, the old Sibyl steps out from behind the shelves across from us. They walk over to the table and say, “What do you know of the Imperium’s location so far?”
Terro removes the map from his satchel and lays it out in front of him. “We believe it is in northern Sibyl.”
They lean forward, their eyes wide with surprise. “Where did you get this?”
“It was stolen by Outlanders who raided a Stigian ship. It was given to the Allaji, and I gave it to Raelle,” Ashavee explains.
“There was a prophecy of a Pliris ruler having a vision of the Imperium’s location. The prediction was never shared with anyone. Not even us. I believe this might be that map.” TheSibyl rubs their wrinkled hands together as if they are tingling to touch the parchment.
Ashavee stands and leans over the table next to the Sibyl. “What makes you say that?”
With a shaking finger, the Sibyl points to the small marking under the Stigian crest. “That is the signature of Queen Jocelyn. Her reign was brief, a decade at best. Still, she was known for her talent with paints. Many of her pieces still hang in the Stigian palace, I’m told.”
“This will lead us to the stone,” Raelle says, fidgeting in her chair like a child eager for a treat.
“How can you be so sure, Elle? Others have followed this map and never found the stone. How do you know it won’t lead us in circles and waste our time while our kingdom is attacked?” Greer asks, sitting straighter.
“It calls to me. I was meant to find its secrets.”
Raelle’s certainty sends goosebumps down my arms. This is the woman who captured my heart, full of self-confidence and an unwavering resolve. She was never one to fall to her knees and bend to the will of others. Kings and gods alike can’t break her.
“The former queen is right,” the Sibyl says, drawing our attention again. “She has a purpose, and this map is meant to lead her to it. Others have failed because it is not theirs to find.”
My heart pounds against my ribs and my words tumble out of my mouth as I say, “If she completes this mission and restores Pliris to its calling, will this redeem her with the Statera?”
“Restoring Pliris is Raelle’s destiny, and I can’t imagine the Statera being anything but ecstatic with her if she fulfills her purpose. But her redemption is between her and the creator. She will know if and when its graces are granted to her again,” says the Sibyl with a smile.
I run my thumb over Raelle’s knuckles, and she quirks her lips. She feels the map calling her to fulfill her fate. I have that same feeling in my gut. We’re so close to getting what we want... to commanding our own future. I’m ready to call us into action and race out the door, but I’m brought to a stop.
Everyone across the table goes stiff. Their eyes grow wide as they scramble to stand. I turn around, resting my arm on the back of my chair. My happiness deflates into a shriveled corpse of dread.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath.
Raelle places a comforting hand on my forearm and rises. “And I thought our day couldn’t get more eventful,” she says, forcing a smile.
I run my hand over my face to hide an eye roll and prepare to play nice. Or as nice as I can.
Two women in silk dresses with flared skirts walk hand in hand toward us. They wear thin gold bands around their long dark hair and matching simple gold rings circle their second to the last fingers of their left hands. I’ve never met them before, but their elegant yet practical attire and matching medic pouches secured to their waists give me a clue to who they are—Queen Camila and Queen Consort Lina from Sara.
The Divine Sibyl walks a step ahead, towering at least a foot taller than the queens. Their blue robes sweep the floor with each step. Nothing sets them apart from the other Sibyls except for the turquoise stone secured to a golden chain around their neck. Although I’ve been in their presence before, I might not have recognized them if it were not for the Ignosi. The Sacred Gift bestowed upon the Sibyl leader gives them the ability to speak directly to the Statera. They are literally the voice of the divine.
I stand as the group moves closer and dip my head in reverence to the Divine Sibyl.
“Chin up, my king. You bow to no one,” Raelle whispers before lowering into a curtsy.
I jerk my head up and fight the urge to pull Raelle upright. I was taught to always show the utmost respect to those in positions of authority. It feels wrong to stand tall and appear more important than those around me, especially her.
“Divine Sibyl,” I say in greeting.
“King Kyron,” the Sibyl’s leaders says, taking in the members of my party one by one. They save Raelle for last, lingering on the top of her head. The hard set of their thin mouth and blank stare give no sign of their feelings toward her. Do they despise her for going against the Statera to save me? Is it hard for them to believe that she found me more worthy than a crown?
“You may rise,” the Divine Sibyl says.
I slide my fingers between Raelle’s and pull her closer to my side. Let the Sibyl think what they want, it doesn’t change my intentions. Raelle is not only my match, but I’m still determined to make her my queen. I will not shy away from that truth.
Raelle bows her head and says, “Queen Camila and Queen Consort Lina, it is a pleasant surprise to see you here.”
