“Were you injured?” asked Jor. He came with Nacht in tow, and there was Rask and Medhin, also. In fact, everyone had come.
All but one.
“Where is Hirí?” The druid’s question fell heavy, and every face grew grim.
Jor answered, “A rider came just four days past with a message from the Augeri.”
“A message?” said the Vaich, but with those words, the druid knew.
“The Oracle is dead.”
Chapter fifty-six
The Fracture
The world went still.
“The Speaker has returned to the conclave,” said Jor. “I have sent with her an escort of six men.”
“Six men?” Skyre scowled. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more—that the order was given, or that it wasn’t his.
“If they should be beset and the priestess killed, it would hardly be forgiven. You wouldn’t disagree, I hope.” The prince set the words like a snare.
“Of course not,” Skyre muttered, and Jor gave him the names. Five were of no great significance, but the sixth…
“I have sent Laird Houel away.”
Skyre glanced at the druid. Though he remained quiet, his eyes flickered in relief.
Korv was gone.
An inconvenient blessing.
But an inauspicious air hung like trapped smoke. What had begun as endless revelry had contorted. Now, there was not a smiling face amongst them.
“Never before has the Aardmût been split. It is ill omen,” said Old Borrach. Heads nodded in solemn agreement and a grim realization wormed in Skyre’s heart.
No one would believe their truth. And now, no one could speak for them.
With the Oracle dead and none yet in her place, their plan had met with a wall of ice. Guilt gnawed at the part of him that felt relieved the druid no longer had reason to leave. But every moment they did not speak would be a moment lost.
Yet, Skyre couldn’t imagine telling his men now. The prophecy said he would live forever. It did not say he would do so sane.
To say the druid had foreseen their end days’ coming would be to confirm the worst fears amongst them: The druid was a witch with unknowable power.
The An’Atherin would never allow it.
Skyre said, “We have had a long journey. Let me tend to my consort. Summon the village healer.”
“For the last time, I am fine. We have much bigger concerns.”
Skyre carefully excused himself from his Féin, steering the druid aside. “I beg of you this once, allow me to lead. We cannae sow uncertainty now. Please.”
Pale eyes searched his own. What they found there… what they didn’t… Skyre didn’t know. But it frightened him.
The druid conceded with a small nod. “Yes, alright.”
“How pleasing to see our anointed rulers have taken to one another. Perhaps the gods have not abandoned us after all.”
