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“Because I’ve been summoned, you twit.” Broca’s melodic voice echoed off the rocky ceiling. A glaistig, half goat, half woman, entered the room. She’d chosen to arrive in her human form, and she was a sight to behold. A cascade of red hair fell down her back in a loose braid, her wide green eyes scanning the room as she weighed her audience. She walked closely to Abyssian, sending him a wink as she brushed his arm. He looked away, muttering something unintelligible.
The moment her gaze fell on me, her features tightened. “She has reached you,” Broca whispered harshly.
“Who has reached him?” Pollux and Abyssian asked in unison.
“The guardian.” She spoke softly, almost in awe of what she was seeing with her magic.
“That isn’t possible,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. It had been millennia since my imprisonment. How a guardian this far down the line could ...
Our conversation may as well have been coded, and it provided no context for my court. The four of them exchanged worried looks before Pollux asked, “Caius, what’s happening?”
His question was ignored, but I didn’t care. Broca approached me slowly, her eyes shining with interest. “You feel it.”
“What does it mean?” I asked, standing before her.
Broca’s beauty morphed. Aged wrinkles creased around her eyes, and silver strands marred a sea of red hair. Graceful, soft hands were replaced with spindly fingers and gnarled knuckles. Her bones snapped; human legs shifting into her half goat form.
Styx and Oberon armed themselves, but I threw a hand out toward them, commanding them to stop.
The glaistig’s palm slammed into my head, her sharp nails pressing into the flesh. White clouds covered the mossy green of her irises as she used her power. Thunder rumbled in the distance, shaking the mountain around us. With her head tilted back, she spoke, her voice deep and trembling with the strain.
A great battle, your future holds.
Within the course the truth unfolds.
The day will come when you must choose,
No matter the choice, you will lose.
Speak the words upon your breath.
To give her life will cause your death.
When she released her hand, I sucked in a harsh breath, stumbling and coughing as I tried to regain composure.
The words replayed in my mind as I tried to make sense of them, but the members of my court had no intention of waiting for an explanation.
Styx rushed Broca; fists balled at her sides. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Our world’s future hangs in the balance,” she said cryptically, not bothering to even look at the great fighter that stood before her. “I can’t see anything beyond that.”
“You didn’t even tell us what youdidsee! You explained nothing. You spoke poetic gibberish,” Abyssian ground out. “Fucking witch.”
“I am not a witch,” she hissed. “Don’t be nasty, fae lord. You were more than content with me while in my bed.”
Oberon smacked his forehead. “Really, man?”
“Not the time,” he said, his jaw clenched. Styx looked at him with fresh disgust.
“Enough!” I growled. “Is the guardian trying to kill me? Is that why I feel . . . pain?” The admission was almost as bad as the physical manifestation of the pain itself.
She shrugged, returning her attention to me. “Do you think she’s trying to kill you?”
“I told you not to trust this one,” Styx spat, throwing her hands up in frustration.
“Answer me, glaistig.”
“I do give you answers. You just don’t like them.” Her gaze narrowed, a slight tic twitching beneath her eye. “She cannot kill you. Your fate is of your choosing, my king. Soon you will understand the choices that lie ahead of you.”
