Come on, show me the prophecy. Show me where I need to go.
After a few moments of trying to harness magic, I place the book down in front of me, letting the pages splay open. They begin to shuffle as if searching for the right words. I can feel my magic flowing from me to the book like my fingers are a conduit. When the pages still, one paragraph in particular draws me in, beckoning me in. It’s the last paragraph on the left page. My fingers begin to tingle.
Manka amended his demands to find a pair bonded in Onyx. With his gift, which neither death nor life can steal, the two were united under the pale moon. Only the cerulean cage –
to be given only to the court for justice.
The jagged edge of a page ripped from the seams lies between the two pages. Why would someone remove this page but keep the rest intact? My stomach sinks because I know the answer. Every shard of bone in my feeble young body knows that those pages were torn intentionally. Whoever is trying so hard to keep this prophecy a secret stole the pages to keep me from finding the truth.
But even the sentences that are left make no sense. I have no clue what the pair bonded in onyx or the cerulean cage could mean.
I slam the book shut in frustration. I’m no closer to figuring out the prophecy than I was before I read this. How am I supposed to decode this alone? The twins can’t help me. I don’t trust Liliana. Olly certainly isn’t an option. Sir Magis may be wise, but who knows how well-versed he is in nonsensical prophecies. Whom can I trust?
No one.
I am once again completely alone.
Chapter 21
For hours, I sat there mulling over every possible meaning to no end. The words in the book are just as foreign to me as ever. There must be a connection between Paul, the woman in the market, and that snippet of a prophecy, even if I can’t see it.
Exhausted, sweaty, and ready to give up, I make the trek back up to my room, doing my best to remain unseen. I scurry up the cliffside stairs and dart toward the door leading to the hallway. I peek my head inside first to ensure nobody is milling about. The last thing I want to do is explain why an old book of prophecies has me rattled.
Neither walking nor running, somewhere in between, I beeline through the hallway on tiptoes with a quick, shuffling pace. And once I’m halfway through, fully exposed in the center, the voices of two chattering men echo past me. My heart lurches, and I mutter a curse under my breath. I recognize that laugh. It’s as arrogant and prideful as ever.
Where can I hide? This hallway offers no camouflage, unless I wanted to hide behind one of the statues, but I cross that out as an option when I remember that some statues can talk. Plus, there is no chance that he wouldn’t spot my tall frame crouching behind a shiny marble figure.
The only way out of this is to backtrack. I slowly tiptoe my way back toward the door. My sandals squeak with each step, so I quickly try to remove them before they grab Olly’s attention. But when I place them in my satchel, the heavy book falls on the floor, and the thud reverberates down the corridor. Gods damn it. There’s no time to stuff the book back in my satchel, so I grab it and sprint toward the door, praying that he may have suddenly gone deaf.
“What has you in such a rush?” Derisive amusement dances on Landers’ tongue.
I turn over my shoulder, red-hot embarrassment burning my face. Olly’s grin widens into an all-too-familiar smirk that makes me shrink back into myself. Landers, standing shoulder to shoulder with Olly, turns to his friend to say his farewells as if being in my presence is too much to bear. His eyes rove up and down the length of my body with a cruel severity.
“I’m in no rush.” The lie is as transparent as the crystal-clear glass windows that line this hall.
“Then stay and have a drink with us,” Olly says.
Landers scoffs and lifts his chin high. “I’d rather be anywhere –”
Olly’s elbow slams into his friend’s ribs faster than he can finish his sentence. But he doesn’t need to. I already know he hates me and has no qualms about making that fact known.
“I have other business to attend to,” Landers amends, sneering before skirting past me. And somehow, even the back of his head seems hostile.
“I’ve barely spent two minutes with that man, and he already hates me. Please tell me that he’s always an ass, and it’s not just me.” I may be used to being disliked, but this feels personal and unwarranted.
“Pretty much, yeah,” he chuckles, shrugging off his friend’s rude behavior like it’s nothing.
“You know how to pick your friends, don’t you?”
“Oh, Radya. Do you ever lighten up?”
Why is this man so effective in baiting me? Every time we speak, he nudges me closer and closer to the brink of madness. Thankfully for him, there is no food around for me to fling this time.
“Ha ha,” I say dryly, rolling my eyes. “Where have you been all week?”
“Why, did you miss me?” His lips roll into a lazy smile.
“Why, would that fulfill some fantasy of yours?” To be honest, I’m not quite sure how I felt about his absence. That night on the rooftop made my head spin. He rejected me, and it stung more than I care to admit. I might have been perfectly content with never seeing him again.