Calder stood at the counter making sandwiches with the dedication of someone who’d discovered the meaning of life between two slices of bread. He’d eaten three already and was working on his fourth. Where he put it all, I had no idea. Pretty sure the man had the metabolism of a dragon.
“You’re wearing it,” the Oracle said, her focus shifting to me.
As if I felt the source of her attention, my hand went automatically to my newest accessory, Eda Mire’s key to the Gilded Pestle. I’d put it on a chain this morning because leaving it in my room felt too vulnerable, and wearing my dead mentor’s shop key around my neck felt... less vulnerable?
My coping mechanisms were clearly excellent.
I tucked it under my shirt. “I’ll find the strength to go back there one day.”
“You will,” she agreed. “When the time is right.”
I hesitated, then asked the question that had been burning in my mind since the docks. “Have you seen anything? Of Vitoria? Any visions that might help us find her? Sitting around this house is testing our patience. The Magistrate is controlling everything we do. We need more freedom here.”
Before we all die, I added mentally.
The Oracle’s expression didn’t change, but something subtle shifted in her posture. “I cannot control which visions are delivered to me. They come as they will, show what they choose. I am merely their vessel.”
I knew it, but I also hated it.
She paused, her head tilting slightly as if she were listening to something only she could hear. Which, knowing her, she probably was. “But I can tell you this. When the dragon flies once more, the wolf’s shadows dim, the lost twin is found and the reflections fade, thirteen moons will gather. Seek a path of abandoned stories when the time comes. You will know when.”
A vague doom prophecy. That’s exactly what I needed tonight.
I looked around the kitchen, expecting everyone to be staring, waiting for someone to ask what the hells that meant. Nothing. Not even a glance.
Lucette watched Pip and Riot. Calder kept building his sandwich tower of emotional support. Only Silas, curled up on the table like he owned the place, all social convention be damned, had lifted his head. His watchful eyes were fixed on the Oracle with an intensity that meant he’d heard every word.
Little fucker probably even understood it. Not that it would help me at all.
“I give up!” Pip announced, attempting one final parry that Riot deflected with insulting ease. She flew to the table and plopped down next to Silas, leaning back against his warm bulk.
The griffin huffed but didn’t move. In fact, he shifted slightly to give her a more comfortable spot. My terrifying familiar was a softie for a sprite with a button collection. At least he was a good judge of character.
Pip pulled a button from her pocket and began spinning it on the table’s surface, watching it blur into a circle of reflected light with the fascination of someone who’d had a very long day and was easily entertained.
I could relate.
“Your trinket. How interesting,” the Oracle murmured.
Pip’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Can you... can you see it?”
“No, child. But I have an awareness of it.” She gestured to Corvus on her shoulder. The raven’s head swiveled toward the spinning button like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “He sees. And through him, I know.”
“Oh.” Pip caught the button mid-spin, examining it with the reverence usually reserved for relics. “It’s one I got recently. Pretty, isn’t it?” She yawned wide enough to show all her teeth. “When is Wickett coming back? I want to go to bed, but I feel like we should wait.”
Calder finished his fourth sandwich and immediately started constructing a fifth because, apparently the apocalypse requiredcarbs. “It’s past nineteen bells. We should call it. We can check in with him in the morning.”
The words were casual, but I caught the look he gave me. It was well past time for Wickett to be back. Something felt wrong in my gut. That same instinct that had kept me alive this long.
But I didn’t protest as everyone began to drift toward their rooms. Pip flew off still clutching her button like a tiny armed treasure goblin. Riot helped the Oracle navigate the hallway with more gentleness than someone his size should possess. Lucette stretched and headed out with a final glance at the butter knife still on the counter, probably strategizing how to weaponize kitchen utensils.
Calder paused at the door, waited a beat and then spun around, sliding his hands into his pockets as he leaned on the doorframe. “Okay?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I’m fine, Cal.”
“Maybe, but you’re a shit liar.”
“Probably.”
