For a heartbeat, I tried to make sense of it, to tell myself this was defiance, loneliness, grief, anything but what it was. Maybe he just needed someone who understood what it felt like to be hunted by a life you didn’t choose.
But when his breath brushed mine, I realized I didn’t care why. Every inch of restraint I had trembled on the edge of breaking. If he kissed me, I wasn’t sure whether I’d melt or catch fire. Another heartbeat and?—
“Syneca.” Riot’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. “The Oracle requests your presence.”
Wickett’s hands dropped immediately, stepping back with the practiced ease of someone used to hiding. The mask slipped back into place so smoothly I almost doubted the softness had been real. Almost doubted the way his hands had trembled slightly against my skin.
“I’ll see you at the games,” he said, already turning away.
But I caught the tightness in his jaw. The way his hands clenched briefly into fists before relaxing.
He wanted that kiss as much as I had.
Maybe more.
I watched him go, my heart still hammering, my skin still burning where he’d touched me.
The Oracle’sroom was more elaborate than I expected. With rich fabrics, comfortable furniture, and picture windows letting in streams of morning light, the room seemed larger still. She sat on the windowsill, turned toward the sun like she could look upon it through sheer force of will.
Maybe she could.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked, standing awkwardly near the door.
“Come in, child. Sit.” Her voice was gentle. “Riot, the chair.”
He moved a plush armchair closer to the window, positioning it where the sunlight would fall across my face. Then, surprisingly, he settled onto the floor near the Oracle’s feet, his massive frame somehow making the position look natural rather than subservient.
“I can’t see it,” Aureth said, still facing the window. “But I can feel its warmth. Feel the light on my skin. It’s enough.”
Silence stretched. Not uncomfortable, just... waiting.
Finally, Riot spoke. “When a Fury dies, all of her belongings—everything she owned—transfers to the Sanctuary. Back to the Furies.” He pulled something from his pocket. A key. Ornate brass, worn smooth with age and use. “It’s tradition. It’s law.”
I recognized the Gilded Pestle’s front door key.
“I knew Eda Mire for a long, long time,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion he wasn’t trying to hide. “I’m quite sure I won’t recover from her unnecessary loss. She was... Shewas everything the Furies should be. Fierce. Compassionate. Uncompromising in principle.”
“Riot blames himself,” the Oracle said quietly. “He went to see Eda Mire the night I was attacked with the dagger. That’s why he was away.”
Understanding hit like cold water. “You were going to visit her when?—”
“I wanted to. She was out when someone tried to kill Aureth with poison.” His jaw tightened. “I should have been here.”
“I dismissed him,” Aureth cut in firmly. “I don’t want a babysitter all the time. The fault is in sending him away, not in his going.”
Something didn’t add up. “But there were two attempts. After the poison, after someone tried to kill you, why would you ever let him leave again?”
The Oracle’s expression shifted, something almost like amusement in the twist of her smile. “Because I am a fury-born. I do not require permission to make my own choices, even foolish ones. And because Riot trained Eda Mire. They were friends for a very long time. Longer than he and I have been.” She reached out, her hand finding his arm with unerring accuracy. “Sometimes friendship does not bend to convenience or safety.”
Riot held the key out to me. “I truly believe Eda Mire would have wanted you to have the shop. I saw the honest sorrow in your eyes that day. Your love for her mirrors what I feel for all the Furies.”
I stared at the key, not taking it. “I’m not... I don’t deserve?—”
“She chose you to train,” the Oracle said. “Years ago, when you were just beginning to understand your magic. She saw something in you worth nurturing. Worth protecting.”
“It’s the same thingIsaw inher.Take it.” He pressed the key into my hand. “Honor her memory. Please.”
The brass was warm against my palm. I closed my fingers around it, feeling the weight of everything that shop represented.
