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After a while, I stopped trying to please them. In their eyes, my sister could do no wrong, so I decided to quit trying to make my family something they were not.
It didn’t help that I knew what would happen before it did, or that I knew when humans in the next town—or three towns over for that matter—would pass away. I would always be on the outside.
My eyes made me a pariah in my own home. The seer part of the equation was just icing on the cake.
It was close to suppertime, but it didn’t matter for me. I ate my meals separately from them, never within touching distance—but still, she stood, barring my exit. I wondered if I tried to touch her if she’d still stand between me and my freedom. If I yelled and screamed and caused a stir, would she still keep me here?
Perhaps she would, but then again, maybe she wouldn’t. I doubted she held me any more than she had to when I was a baby—it was unlikely she’d allow me to come within a foot of her now.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked as if she had the right. She may have given birth to me, she may have fed me, but she had never given me love.
Not ever.
“I’m leaving this house to see my husband, Mother,” I said to her stunned face. I would’ve admitted I was with child, but honestly, given the puce tinge to her features, she might have combusted where she stood.
“Hu-husband? Have you lost your mind, Aurelia? You have no right to take a husband. You are to be an oracle. Your soldier has been chosen for you. You know the rules, child. How could you be so careless?”
Oracle. As if I would ever willingly subject myself to the horrors of that job title.
“Careless? The oracle position is not my only option, Mother. I can choose exile, which I would prefer, since it is the only Fates-forsaken choice I will get to make. I would rather make my own fate than take the life someone dictates for me. You should know better. You know I’m not very fond of doing what I’m told, now am I, Mother?”
“You think they will just let you go? Silly little girl.” She shook her head, pity clearly written all over her face.
“I spoke to Nicola myself. She said I was allowed to choose as long as I did so before maturity.”
“Nicola isn’t who I’m worried about,” she muttered, and then her eyes widened when she realized what she’d said aloud.
So, it isn’t Nicola she is worried about. But if not Nicola…
Iva—our leader, our Primary—was not someone I ever wished to tangle with. She was the ultimate reason I didn’t want to be an oracle in the first place. She frightened me down to my very bones. An ominous sense of dread washed over me every single time I stepped within three feet of her.
It was as if she carried the weight of a thousand souls—as if she were stained in death.
There was no way I would ever be an oracle with her as my leader, and no way I would willingly hand that woman the knife to cut out my eyes. I still couldn’t fathom how we had progressed so much as a society and still followed that barbaric practice.
I liked my eyes where they were, thank you very much.
“Did you ever consider that perhaps I see much more than you give me credit for?”
My mother sighed a deep, shuddering breath. “That, my dear, has always been the problem. You see too much,” she whispered and stepped out of my way. “If you are set on going, I would go sooner rather than later. Take your young man and leave this place before it is too late.”
Her voice, so heavy with foreboding, sent a chill skittering down my spine. It was the kindest she had ever been to me, and I had no idea what to do with her words.
“We are trying to leave before the week is out. Do you think this is enough time?”
“I hope so,” was all she said before leaving me alone to decide.
Choosing between my family who had given me life—but not an ounce of love—and a man, who not only gave me the love and affection I so desperately craved, but the child I carried.
It was no contest. I opened the thick, oak door and walked toward my future.
AURELIA
It takes no time at all to get undressed and in the shower. The bathroom is just as lavish as the rest of the house, conveniently stocked for guests. But Evan knows me better than anyone and has all my favorite stuff. Speedily, I wash the blood off my arms and neck with the super-expensive ginger and orange oil body wash. Shampooing my hair twice—because Fates know what’s in it—I use a handful of conditioner to tame my wavy locks into submission.
Shutting off the water, I towel off and open my duffle. Inside, I’ve got five bags of beef jerky—chipotle flavor—my favorite “Fuck My Liver” flask full of Irish whiskey, a quarter-million dollars in varied bills, and a manila envelope containing a whole new identity.
I take the time to braid my hair in a long side tail before dressing in a gray T-shirt, and a pair of jeans with frayed holes in both knees. Sliding on sandals, I clasp my favorite sterling silver feather necklace around my neck and slip a stack of bangles on my wrist.
