Maybe it’s the echo of her furious cry. Or, more likely, it’s because we can’t risk her being killed in a fight between us.
We all need her. Badly. Each of our kingdoms has suffered under the curse.
As the Oracle’s faded eyes seek me through the smoky haze that has gathered around me, I’m struck still, my pounding heart stuttering.
With a single glance, she seems to see through the smoke to every flaw in my burning heart. Every shortcoming for which she will demand answers from me.
Sheis my only answer.
And she seems to know it.
“You’re here for me,” she says, her voice clear and strong, defying the tremors that shake her so hard. I feel the need to warm her.
Inwardly, I scoff at that impulse.
As if I could control my heat for long enough to dry her hair…or warm her skin…or even to touch her in any lingering way. As if it would be possible for me to stop her shivers without hurting her.
Fucking delusions.
I can’t even sleep without bursting into flames.
If I manage to seize her today, it will take every shred of my control to rush her to one of my warriors, who will be able to transport her back to the Ember Kingdom for me.
The Oracle has continued speaking. “I want you to know that I will fight your people to the death.” She takes a deep breath. “But I won’t fightyou.”
Her unexpected declaration makes me jolt. She’s fragile, vulnerable, and open, and all of that is enough of a surprise. Ineverimagined she’d yield.
“For years, you’ve pursued me.” The corners of her mouth turn down as she casts her gaze in Antony’s direction, then in Stellen’s, and finally to me. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been told you would destroy anything and anyone to claim me. Well, I won’t let you destroy this village because of me. So I’m making you a promise: I’ll do whatever you ask.”
It’s an impossible vow.
I’m astounded she thinks we could all agree on a way forward.
We all need her to break the curse, and it might seem we’d benefit equally from that happening, regardless of which one of us has her, but this curse has prevailed for centuries.
When the False Queen cursed the Dragonstone Blade, she broke the Kingdom of Serulia into three and forced us into war.
She was the first female Oracle. Before her, all Oracles were male, the power skipping daughters and, if the oracle had no male offspring, the magic would leap to life in the nearest male relative or, more startlingly, it would spring up in another bloodline.
Always, there was only one.
As for the curse, nobody knowshowit can be broken.
Only one thing is certain: Another female Oracle must do it.
The fear is that, in breaking the curse, devastating harm could be caused to enemy kingdoms.
Whoever controls the female Oracle ensures the safety of their kingdom.
“All I ask,” she says, “is that you leave this village in peace. If you do that, then I won’t fight you.”
I wait for her to demand more, but she presses her lips together and falls silent, the dagger remaining at her side, its ivory wrapping trailing across the pebbles and blowing in the breeze.
She talks of handing herself over, but she may as well invite us to tear each other apart.
I raise my voice above the roaring of my own blood, intending to ask her if she takes us for fools, but my heart forces different words from my mouth. “Do you mock our pain?”
Her focus snaps to me, her eyes wide. “Never.” But her jaw quickly tenses. “You talk of pain when your fire destroys innocent lives. When your iron burns innocent throats. All while you stand idly by, even though your ice could douse the flames.”
