“You know damn well I didn’t tell them,” Leap snapped. “Why would you out me like that!”
“Well, that explains why you seemed to know so much about Quye,” Mavlyn said with an arched eyebrow. “And if you’re related to her, that means your parents were members of the nobility.”
“I thought we agreed on no more secrets!” I threw up my hands, more than a little incensed. “How could you hide something so important from us, Leap?”
“And just what makes you think you have the right to my secrets?” Leap snapped. Suddenly, he was in my face, his storm grey eyes crackling with lightning, his teeth bared in a snarl. I took a step back, startled—I’d never seen him so angry. “Why do you think you deserve to know about my past, about my life? I agreed to help you get into the city, to see the Oracle, and I’ve fulfilled my end of the bargain! You don’t get more than that!”
He turned to storm out of the room, but before he could, Quye snatched him by the wrist. “Not so fast, Leap. You have something I want.”
He spun around to face Quye, his gaze furious. “You can’t have the fan. I need to give it to Storm, so that he doesn’t tell—” he snapped his mouth shut with a click of his teeth and pressed his lips together.
Quye rolled her eyes. “Why do you think I came in to rescue your sorry tails?” she said, crossing her arms. “I’ve been watching Madame Gale use that fan to spread corruption and manipulate our economy for years, and I decided something needed to be done about it. I knew she would be here with the fan tonight, and the opportunity to relieve her of it would arrive, so I made sure I would be in the right place at the right time to take it. Besides,” she added, “Storm expected you to fail, anyway. He’s the one who bribed that guard to betray you.”
“I figured as much,” Leap said tightly, “but once he hears I’ve escaped, he’ll tell Uncle Oren about me, anyway.”
“Uncle Oren?” Mavlyn said, aghast. “As in, Lord Oren of House Reatha? Ruler of the Gaoth Aire?”
“Yes,” Leap said with a sigh, dragging a hand across his face. “Lord Oren is my uncle.”
Einar snorted. “He must be a terrible uncle, if you prefer living on the streets and running around with cutthroats to living in a lavish palace in the air mountains and being waited on hand and foot,” he said.
Leap shot him a glare. “Being a member of the nobility isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. I’d rather sleep in a ditch than spend a night under Uncle Oren’s roof.”
“Anyway,” Quye said in a pointed tone, “my point is that Storm was never expecting you to show up with the fan. So as long as you make yourself scarce from Wynth after tonight, you should be fine.”
“And what if I don’t want to make myself scarce from Wynth?” Leap challenged. “What if I want to stay here and take back my position from Storm?”
Quye smiled. “We both know you’re not going to do that, Leap.”
She held out an expectant hand to Leap, and he let out a defeated sigh. “Why can’t I just keep it?” he groused as he pulled the fan out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“Because I don’t trust you with it,” she said archly, tucking it up a sleeve. “As the Oracle, I’m the only person who doesn’t need the fan to get people to do what I want. Therefore, I’m the only responsible choice as the fan’s custodian.”
“I’m not sure your Uncle Oren would agree with that logic,” Mavlyn said with a chuckle.
The Oracle grinned. “Yes, well, I think my cousin here would agree that what Uncle Oren doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”
Quye winked at Leap, who rolled his eyes, but I thought I saw a small smile twitching at his lips. “Now you…” she turned to Einar, looking him up and down slowly. “I don’t need to tell you where your place is or what you should be doing. Your heart already knows where you belong, it’s just up to your mind to accept it. As long as you keep fighting your destiny, you will never find happiness.”
“I don’t want happiness,” Einar growled. “Only sleep.”
“That might have been true, once,” the Oracle agreed. “But there’s no use in lying to me, Einar. I see everything. And the question you should really ask yourself is, what would Daryan say if he could see you now, holding so tightly onto the hatred in your heart?”
I glanced at Einar, curious at the stricken look on his face. It quickly morphed to fury, though, and he clenched his fists at his side. “How dare you speak his name,” he growled, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “It’s not fit to touch any fae’s lips, least of all an air fae’s.”
Quye shrugged, then turned to Mavlyn. “Your loyalty will be severely tested,” she told her. “My only advice to you is that in your hour of need, seek out the Traveler’s Grove. You’ll find that which you’ve been searching for.”
“The Traveler’s Grove?” Mavlyn’s eyes widened. “I thought that was just a myth!”
I opened my mouth to ask what they were talking about, but before I could, the door banged open, and an irate monk in ornate robes stormed in.
“Quye!” His eyes widened with scandalized outrage when he saw the Oracle lounging by the fire. “What are you doing amongst these strangers, with your face unveiled!” He snatched Quye’s veil from the floor, where she’d let it fall carelessly, then hastily draped it over her hair. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you—you’re supposed to be in the ballroom, making the predictions!”
“Alas, duty calls,” Quye said with a sigh. She stood up and allowed the monk to drag her from the room, waving a hand at us in farewell. “Good luck, Adara and company. The fate of the world depends on you all, or something like that!”
The door slammed shut behind her, leaving us with far more questions than answers.
30
