“Yes, Your Excellency! We’ll keep the shipment safe all the way to Marchland.”
Azaleen’s eyes gleamed. “Your kingdom is counting on it.”
Chapter twenty-eight
No Oracle for the Heart
Clover Hollow, the next day
Soren’s mother had to drag him out of bed. A week and a day had passed since Nathan asked him to meet at the docks—and he hadn’t gone. He’d had things to do, excuses to make, and, above all, a decision he hadn’t wanted to face.Why is he so unreasonable?He’d even sent a note, but Nathan never replied.Fine. I’ll see him at his matching ceremony.
Dressed in his Institute uniform, Soren sat at the table with his parents and younger sister, picking at his breakfast. Brooding killed his appetite.
“Don’t you have to turn in your application for a specialty today?” Gabriella’s question was pointed, almost demanding. His fifteen-year-old sister was attractive, an exceptional pianist, and an arrogant pain in the ass. “I already know what I want to do.”
“Sure,” he muttered, knowing she’d change her mind ten times, and it wouldn’t even matter in the end.
“Well, dear,” his mother chimed in, “what’s your first choice?” Nadia blinked denim-blue eyes at him with interest. Her medium brown hair was cut in asensible bob, though not as sharp as was fashionable. She was a biochemist working in the Ministry of Human Optimization—important work, but not on the same level as his father’s. Her latest project focused on improving human longevity and optimizing genes. She’d dropped a few hints his way, but Adélard’s tactics proved far more persuasive.
“I marked Data Harmonization first, with Developmental Coding and Cybernetic Research as alternates.” He stared at his oatmeal, stirring the blueberries around.
“Excellent choices, son,” his father praised. “No matter which The Institute assigns you to, you’ll excel. You know they run all their postings by the Core, so you needn’t worry about human error or bias getting in your way. I’m so proud of you.”
At those words, Soren lifted his chin, searching his father’s eyes. Seeing that glimpse of genuine pride lifted his spirits, drawing a smile across his lips. Adélard Delacroix offered praise sparingly, and it carried tremendous weight.
“Did you hear the news?” Gabriella couldn’t stand not being the center of attention.
Soren scowled at her for interrupting his moment. “What?”
“Some farmer from Harmony Ridge disappeared last week,” she chirped, as if she’d won the lottery. “Some people say he got eaten by a bear, but others claim he ran away because he was about to turn twenty and didn’t want to marry a stranger. I mean, really? What a wuss! If I don’t like who the Oracle picks for me to marry, then I’ll just whip him into shape, mold him into the husband I want. That’s how it works, you know.”
Soren froze, his spoon halfway to his mouth. A tremor started in his core. When it reached his hand, he lowered the spoon back into his porridge. He felt the blood drain from his face, fearing to ask. The words came anyway.
“Did they give his name?”
“Oh, that’s right,” his mother said, her sweet voice dripping with concern. “Soren, you were there for your community exchange program the summer after you completed the Academy. It could be someone youknow.”
“Oh, yes, Mother.” Gabriella slung back her short, brunette hair, trying for a dramatic flair. “His name is all over the broadcasts. Somebody Frye. It’s easy to remember. The joke is that Frye got fried—get it?” She grinned from ear to ear.
Soren felt sick to his stomach. “Excuse me,” he muttered and hurried from the table.
“Honey?” his mother called after him. “Are you all right?”
Soren slammed the door to his tiny bedroom, crashing onto the single bed. One window let in the morning light and air.He left me!Racked with agonizing pain, he curled into a ball.How could you leave me? I loved you, and you said you loved me.
Hot tears stung his eyes, his gut twisting as if torn by rampaging warg.
“Soren?”
Great,he thought.Father’s at the door. I can’t let him see me like this.
“Just a minute,” he called, mopping at his face, pressing down his tempest emotions with a practiced will. His father stepped in anyway, closing the door. Soren shot upright, jaw clenched to keep it from quivering.
“That was him, wasn’t it?”
Soren was afraid to meet his father’s gaze. But he feared too many things, one of which had just manifested.You’re almost twenty, dammit! Pull yourself together.
Glancing up, he didn’t see anger or even disappointment, but supportive understanding. Still, Soren couldn’t speak. His father moved closer, taking the desk chair. “I know it hurts now, but this is for the best. With him gone, you can focus on what really matters—your future in Clover Hollow. Most young men enjoy a youthful fling or two before their marriage ceremonies, and that’s a good thing. You need to satisfy urges and curiosities, sow your wild oats. What’s important moving forward is that you put such experiences behind you, something that might have proven hard to do if the Frye boy was still around to tempt you. If he’s dead, I’m sorry. But if he ran away without you, I’m exceedingly glad. Farmers are a dime a dozen. But you, SorenDelacroix—”
