Her next question is more hesitant. “May I speak without fear of retaliation?”
I consider her carefully. Her porcelain cheeks are flushed, a sheen of sweat rests across her brow, and her purple eyes are unusually dull.
“You may.”
She clasps her hands in front of herself. “The Oracle is strong, Lord.”
I treat her statement with the contempt it deserves. “You thought because she looks like a lowborn, she would be easily overpowered?”
“N-No, Lord. I mean she’s stronger than she should be.”
My eyes narrow and Lilis swallows, her throat visibly constricting.
She pushes on. “The Oracle told me her father taught her only basic defensive moves.”
My question is sharp. “What of it?”
“Lord, forgive me, but…maybe there was a reason for that.”
My glare sharpens.
Lilis takes a step back from me, then rallies. “Lord, the Oracle has learned, withinhours, maneuvers that took me days, even weeks, to master. She consumes everything I teach her as if she were inhaling water and turns what should be exhaustion into energy. I teach her a new move, she mimics me, and then she can perform it better than I can. She’s learning at an astounding rate and she has the potential to?—”
Lilis’s lips press together and it’s clear she regrets her outburst.
I begin to pace slowly around her. “She has the potential to what, Lilis?”
Exceed you?Exceed me, perhaps.
I wait for Lilis’s self-interest to surface.
“To become extremely efficient at killing…” Lilis whispers. “Anyone.”
Killinganyone.
I miss a step. And then I recalibrate. “You’re concerned for yourself.”
Lilis’s shoulders slump. “I’ve always known my days would be numbered if you found the Oracle,” she says. “I’ve accepted that. But what I can’t accept is that I might be training the next?—”
Again, she stops.
“Say it, Lilis.”
“The next False Queen.” Lilis’s voice is so strained, her vocal cords are barely making sound. “Thyra is supposed to have the power to break the False Queen’s curse, but will she? Does she want to?”
Lilis’s face is raised to mine.
I stop pacing.
My reply, for once, is not aloof. “She does.”
She hasn’t made progress because I’ve kept her from the things she needs. I’ve directed her focus to her survival because she very nearly died, and I won’t…can’t…risk that she’ll face death again.
Lilis swallows. “Are you prepared for what I’m training her to become?”
Lilis has never dared to question me like this.
A week ago, I would have quickly reminded her of the consequences. But I’m forced to acknowledge to myself that she’s asking logical questions.
