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“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Not all friendships are destined for a lifetime. I don’t believe that you and Ms. Wilson were meant for it.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there are some things you can’t forgive, nor forget.”
Lila’s gaze strayed to the fish. “You think she won’t forgive me?”
“Who said I was talking about her?”
Lila turned back to the oracle. “What do you mean?”
“I suspect your future with a certain man will last much longer. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a long brown coat? I saw him in my vision too. Your paths cross over and over again, melding into a blur, but there are too many unmade decisions between the pair of you to get a clear glimpse. You’re both intertwined, just as you, chief, are intertwined with the oracles. Unfortunately, I don’t know how yet. But mark my words, you will be important to us, whether for good or for ill. If I’d known sooner, I might have encouraged Chef Ana a great deal more.”
Lila swallowed hard, thinking of her dreams the week before. “What do you mean that I’m intertwined with the oracles?”
“The vagueness is annoying, isn’t it? Try living in it.” The oracle ushered Lila to the stairs. “All I know about the dark-haired man is that he has killed once and will kill again. It wasn’t his fault last time, but next time he’ll mean it. He’ll keep doing it, over and over again. His path isn’t a blur. He’s making choices while you spin your wheels, and I fear he’s making the wrong ones. He’s going to drown in the mire if he’s not careful, and he’ll take you with him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s a warning. I fear you’ll become like him.”
Lila didn’t like the oracle’s pitying tone.
“I won’t tell you more until the visions tell me you are safe and trustworthy. I might question who sends them, but I believe in their validity. You have your family, and I have mine.”
Chapter 9
It was nearly six before Lila pulled into her family’s garage, a curious Chef trailing behind her as they returned to the great house. Chef hadn’t said much on the way home, likely understanding from Lila’s quiet manner that the oracle had given her much to think about. Or perhaps Chef was only happy that Lila hadn’t argued for the closing of the oracles’ compounds on the way home, believing the women to be a drain on the state’s coffers.
It had been Lila’s opinion when she was young and too full of her own budding understanding of the world. Chef’s continued high praise of the oracles had been what changed her mind. Now Lila understood how important they were spiritually to the majority of the country. Symbolism, if not truth, was important.
Perhaps even more important.
Now the oracle had glimpsed her future, had forced her to think about her place in the grand scheme of things, not just as an heir dodging the path she’d been born to run down, but as a woman rushing toward another, a path set by the gods.
But it was all bullshit, wasn’t it? A con to amuse the masses? None of it was real, it was mere entertainment, like horoscopes and crystal balls and Tarot cards. The oracle was a brilliant actress, and she’d been playing her role for a very long time.
She’d been right about one thing, though. There were some things you couldn’t forgive or forget. Lila had thoroughly ruined things with Alex. Maybe it
would have happened anyway, a slow friendship death over years, rather than an incomplete fracture that lingered only because of circumstance. Tristan had told her that a highborn and a slave could never be friends. They were simply on different levels. Even Alex had alluded to it recently.
Lila had been appalled at the idea, but perhaps she didn’t feel the imbalance because she was settled in the higher station. Perhaps you only felt it when you crashed to the bottom or when you were born there.
Alex had certainly fallen. Perhaps the kindest thing Lila could do for her friend was transfer her to a compound closer to Simon and Sturluson’s. Maybe if she really loved Alex, she had to let her move on.
But then why did it feel like throwing Alex away?
When Lila and Chef entered the great house, Chef bustled quickly to the kitchens to check on her soup and salad, while Lila jogged upstairs and plopped down in front of her desktop.
Once again, her search for Reaper’s partner had yielded no results.
Lila cradled her head. She didn’t have time for this now. She didn’t have time to concentrate on a potential blackmailer.
Isabel knocked on the door, and Lila’s head shot up. The servant carried a little clinking tray, which she placed on Lila’s desk. “Chef feared it would be one of those days, madam. Not that you can’t eat downstairs with—”
“No, this is wonderful, Isabel. You and Chef always take such good care of me.” Lila spied quite a large block of fudge next to her soup and salad.
