Chapter twenty-nine
Esmeray
“Whatisthedifferencebetween an Oracle and a seer?” Lenna nervously wiped her hands on the fabric of her red dress. I felt it then, too wrapped up in my own shit before, but the magic coiled up inside me pulled towards Lenna.
To find out Lenna was not only the Oracle, but also a seer… It could change the world. Or damn it into the bowels of Minmere.
Sparrow, gods bless her, gracefully knelt at Lenna’s side, her pink dress pooling around her knees as she took Lenna’s shaking hands in her own steady ones.
“An Oracle has flashes of visions, and they may have started for you as violent headaches and grown from there. But once the Prism is claimed by the Oracle, the headaches should dissipate, as well as the choppy visions, since your power is now only able to be accessed by channeling the Prism. Before you claimed the Prism, your power was uncut–raw. Now it should settle since you claimed the Prism so quickly after being activated.” Sparrow waved a hand, the flower buds blooming on the bookshelves closing up tight. I couldn’t help but admire my dear friend. Her gifts wereanother I’d never seen before. Even my late father begged Sparrow to be part of his prestigious King’s Guard, but she refused, saying her gifts were life–not death.
Like mine are.
My father, of course, never extended the offer to myself–from either fear of what unknown magic the gods had given to me, or because of my royal title and what it would look like to our realm if a Princess picked up a sword and learned how to use it.
Sparrow crossed the room, returning with a bottle of sweet, pink wine. “As the Oracle, there are limitations on what you cansee. To use your gift as the Oracle, you hold the Prism and journey into it toseewhat others cannot.” Sparrow handed Lenna a short glass filled with the pink liquid, gesturing for her to take a drink. Lenna puckered her lips at the first sip of alcohol, before raising the glass again, taking a second, longer, swallow of wine. “As a seer, you canseefate itself. Whether you want to or not.” Sparrow squeezed Lenna’s shoulder and gave her a kind smile. “Seers are rare, but their magic also comes from Moirai, who decides what information needs to be passed down to each individual seer and at what time.”
My wings wrapped around my sides as I looked down into my own teacup. The events of the night weighed on me. I missed my mate. And explaining my actions made my heart ache, numbness slithering through my veins. I tightened my wings, feeling as if they were the only thing holding me together.
It was easier to believe another being infiltrated the Soul Keeper’s Cell, another being made the hard decision to mercy kill the previous Oracle, another being was exiled and hunted for a crime they didn’t commit.
But it was me. My life.
And I was sogodsdamned tired.
“Sparrow.” I wiggled my teacup, slipping on the mask I wore as a second skin these days to keep everyone from seeing how broken I truly was, recreating the gaudy teacup into a wine glass with my magic. It eased some of the strain that built up from not using my illusion gifts at full power. But my magic still thrummed, waiting impatiently for an outlet.
Finding the Oracle was my first stroke of good luck in almost a year. And I waited with bated breath to see if the gods would take this away, too.
Sparrow threw me and my wine glass a scathing look before laughing lightly. “I’ll get a few bottles of red because you won’t like this sweet stuff.” I threw her an appreciative grin as Sparrow tugged Lenna up with her. “Lenna, can you help me down in the wine cellar? I have some old wines down there that I want Esmeray to try.”
Lenna stood on shaky legs, still a little pale from the whole ‘seer’ thing, but she nodded and followed Sparrow’s trailing skirts out of the room. Leaving Merrick and Laurent to both immediately turn their attention to me.
Great.
“Well, let’s hear the verdict. But if you’re still considering that it would be easier to kill me–let me tell you that Sparrow isveryattached to this furniture, so we’ll need to move the fight outside,” I purred, locking eyes with Merrick. Gargoyles were territorial, and I’d seen enough of them go to blows over the stupidest things.
Merrick slouched further into the floor pouf before scowling at me, and I couldn’t help but poke him a little more. “Can’t get off the pouf?” I asked sweetly, pouting my lips at him, but it was Laurent who spoke first.
“Do you love Keerian?” Laurent asked, his expression unreadable aside from the hard glint in his emerald eyes. His power thrummedthrough the room, the flames in the fireplace turning from red and orange to ice blue. I leaned back further into the couch, sloshing the dregs of tea in my wine glass. If he was trying to intimidate me, he’d need to do a lot better than that. I knew all about the ferocious Spy Master, and he knew very little about me. I met his stare and held eye contact. I wouldn’t back down. I was surprised at his question, but then again, I had one week with my mate before being forcibly separated for a year. Laurent and Merrick had known Keerian for almost a century.
Turning a horn towards Laurent, I debated opening myself up to him. I could recount events emotionlessly, but admitting my one weakness was Keerian…
I answered, albeit quietly, “Yes.”
Merrick cut in, “Are you fighting for the integrity of the throne? Or for retribution against Adara?"
“Does it matter?” I snapped back to the gargoyle, before nodding to Laurent. “I love my mate, and I’d do anything to get him back, even if that includes taking the throne.”
That seemed to be good enough for Laurent, because he rolled his shoulders back and grunted, “Why didn’t Keerian tell us about you before?” I swore a flicker of hurt crossed his face and I couldn’t help wishing that Keerian and I had more time… Time to meet his friends, build relationships, be together.
I missed my mate.
And I missed my parents. We rarely saw eye to eye, especially since I never embraced the lifestyle of a well-behaved Princess, but I loved them, and my heart ached from the void their deaths left.
Merrick added, after an unwieldy attempt at getting off the floor pillow–which I openly smirked at, knowing I got underhis skin a little, “I want to know that too. He’s our best friend, and you even said you had a feeling you were mates before Carra’s ceremony.”
I knew these questions were coming, and part of me was glad. If we were getting into the nuanced personal shit now, it meant they believed I didn’t murder the King and Queen. But still–my heart hurt. My mate was out there, in my sister’s clutches, and every second we wasted going over these stupid questions was another second that I was on edge, braced, waiting for the pain and agony of my soul tie breaking.
