Page 105 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses

She cocked her head as if considering. “A favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“One of my choosing in my hour of need.”

Unease crawled through me. It would be beyond reckless to agree, but it wasn’t like I had other options. Callan had promised to help me find answers, but instead, he’d shut me up in his drafty castle and distracted me with dresses and party plans. Rydian knew something, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to help me either. And Amanti wouldn’t have come here unless this oracle knew something.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “You have a deal. Now, tell me what you know.”

The oracle held out her hand, palm up. “We’ll seal the bargain.”

Slowly, I placed my hand in hers, and she grabbed it tight, holding on as she whispered fervently in some language I didn’t know. Tingles shot up my arm, and I tried to pull away as they turned to pain. But she held on tighter than I would’ve thought possible for an aging fae.

Her whispered words came faster. The pain sharpened until I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Abruptly, she let me go.

I glared at her then glanced down at my arm, which still pulsed with the heat of magic. Ink appeared on my wrist, a strange symbol etching itself into my skin.

A tattoo.

Like the one I had on my neck.

I stared until the shape was complete, and I realized what it reminded me of. A Verdant rune like the ones on her cloak.

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“To become sharpened.”

I frowned, wondering whether it was a clue about the favor she’d ask of me one day. But there were more important questions to ask. “Tell me about my magic. Is it enough to stop her?”

She drained her tea then leaned back in her chair, her gaze far away. “As the Great War waged, gods of both the light and dark were drawn to Menryth. Each side desired the realm for themselves; to rule over it, to feed from it. To grow their own power using ours. They knew, if they battled for it, the realm might be destroyed in the process so they made a compromise. A treaty that kept the peace, however precarious. The terms of that treaty allowed these gods access to Menryth, which they used both for feeding and aiding their own efforts to sway the balance ofpower in their favor.”

“What would happen if the balance ever swayed too far?” I asked, my stomach curling with dread.

“The champion would lay claim to Menryth forever.”

Gods.

Heliconia had swayed the balance. Would Menryth be hers?

“What does that have to do with my magic?” I asked, throat dry at the thought of what Heliconia’s rule might bring to the realm.

“According to the treaty, the gods cannot engage in battle, so they chose a champion to do so.”

“How do you know I was chosen?” I couldn’t help the challenge in my tone. Even after all these years, part of me wanted her to be wrong—about all of it. But especially about me.

“You are marked.” Her gaze flicked to my throat. Where my mysterious tattoo was inked.

I lifted my hand and ran my fingers over the tiny black moon with three stars above it. “Do you know what it means?”

“Those symbols you wear represent blessings. And blood. It means you have great power inside you—the likes of which the realm hasn’t seen since before Vorinthia fell.”

Damn.

So much for being wrong. Okay then. “The gods you’re talking about…The Furiosities chose Heliconia? And the Fates chose me?”

“I can’t say which side you’ll fight for. That is up to you.”

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