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But she did, the knowledge apparent in her cunning smile, her narrowed, creeping gaze.
“Believe whatever helps you sleep at night, little one.” She slowly climbed onto Torin’s throne, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of a black, disjointed leg covered in spines, like an insects’. “You are here because we cannot fail in our quest. Even the magic knows this.”
“If you told me why we can’t fail, perhaps I could help?”
“Once, Old Valarian was an oasis filled with wild, endless magic, but then the wicked Fae, males like Carex Centaria and his ancestors before him—came. They ravaged our land, tricked the wild magic, allowed them to claim the ancient power, corrupting that which was once pure.”
I shivered with dread. She spoke of a time so long ago no scribes recorded these events, only the vaguest references existed, woven into myths and legends.
“Torin foresaw the end of Carex’s reign, and thusly, we took precautions.” Her devouring gaze turned darker. “You, Anaria, were bred to contain the magic. A pure, untouched vessel, meant to store the magic until such a time when Carex was dead and Old Valarian united once more.”
“You used my mother then threw her away.” I bit each word off.
“As we will use you, to save this world. Caladrius is dying. The king is dying. If the magic disappears completely, nothing will ever bring it back and everything will become a barren wasteland.”
“Was that the prophecy you gave Julian Montgomery?” I asked. Zorander’s comment still bothered me. That an entire group of people had dedicated their lives to making some ridiculous prophecy come true…I wanted to know why.
“Ah, someone’s been paying attention.”
“Someone who intends to survive this.” I countered. “I have no choice but to play your game. But tell me why I’m tangled up in your web.”
Where was Torin?
Did the Fae king kill her and put this creature in her place?
“You are part of this because chaos is the great equalizer. Disorder brings entire kingdoms to their knees, breaks down societies, empowers the weak, gives rise to new kings.” Her expression turned sly. “Or queens.”
“Is that what you promised Julian? Power?” She tapped her contorted finger on the bone throne, the hollow clink clink clink echoing through the empty chamber, even louder than the storm raging outside.
“Power is an illusion. A story men tell each other to make them sleep better at night.”
“And yet you sit upon a throne.” I countered, edging toward the door. Ember was here somewhere. And I had all the magic I’d ever wanted at my fingertips. I could get her out of here.
The Oracle lifted a black, gnarled finger and my feet were rooted to the floor, my arms trapped at my sides.
“My brother and I…we have existed since before this world was born. I’ve made kings, then killed them when they’d outlived their usefulness, as the Fae King and his brother have outlived theirs. You, Anaria, are the oppressed. Will you rise up and rule, or be forgotten like the millions who came before you?”
“I have no dreams of greatness.” I admitted warily, trying to tug me feet free. “I only wish to…”
“Change the world?” Amusement danced in her wicked black eyes, along with menace. She might tolerate my existence, but not defiance. “That is something a fool might say.”
I shrugged. “Then I am a fool. What is wrong with improving life for everyone?’ I asked cautiously. “Is that not better than warring and slavery and cruelty?”
“We cannot afford naiveté.” Her smile grew more wicked. “Serpens Centaria used to believe such foolish things. There was a time when he wished for the world to be…better. Carex, for all his faults, never had such absurd ideas.”
“If you won’t tell me why I’m here, I see no purpose in discussing this.” I needed to find Ember, even though I had no idea how to get us back to Blackcastle. But I couldn’t move, much less leave this room.
“I told them to make you a slave.” Her vile, crafty smile widened. “Torin didn’t have the stomach for cruelty, but she was born soft. You had to know how it felt to be oppressed, Anaria. The Mistress was tasked with looking after you to…reinforce that harsh lesson.”
“Them…who?”
“Why Zorander, of course. He and Julian hid you in Varitus until you came of age. Torin spun a tale to Carex that the magic had needed time to mature before he could harvest it, but that was a lie. You needed time to grow strong, little one, to face what is coming.” She waved her withered hand in the air.
“And you did grow strong.” She narrowed her pitch-black eyes. “I wondered if we would break you…but you emerged as tempered steel, the blade that will forge a new world.”
“Built upon…chaos.” I did not know what the Oracle wanted, but we were all pawns in her game, even the kings, from the sound of it.
“There’s something else about chaos, little one. Chaos is the only thing in this world as powerful as magic. Under the right circumstances, chaos can be created, a pressure keg that only needs a spark to explode.” Her teeth were gruesome as she added, “You, little one, are that spark.”
