Page 103 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses

“You have power in you, girl.” He sniffed. “More than the rest of us.” He looked jealous—and angry enough to do something about it.

He took a step toward me, and I threw my hands up. Black flames shot from my palms, igniting his boots. They melted, burning his feet. He screamed, and I stumbled back, looking around wildly for anyone who might have seen what I’d done.

“You have darkness in you,” the fae wailed.

He stomped the flames out, but I could see the blisters and burns on his flesh where his boots and socks had burned away.

“You will pay for that, bitch.”

Panic tightened in my chest, and without another word, I turned and hurried down the street. His footsteps echoed behind me, slow at first then quicker, matching my pace.

My heart raced as I rounded a corner and ducked into a narrow alley.

Ahead, a small, weathered shop sat tucked between two very rowdy pubs, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze. The symbol of an open eye was painted across the door—the oracle’s shop. At last.

I’d made a point to search it out on the city map I’d found in the library, but after the chaos of the day, I’d begun to doubt if I’d actually make it here before being tossed back under lock and key inside that drafty castle.

I darted inside, the bells above the door jingling softly as I pushed it closed behind me.

As if the shop were warded against it, the noise from the pubs and the street suddenly went quiet. I leaned against the door, hoping the strange male hadn’t seen me enter. Through the frosted window, I watched as he passed by and disappeared.

I exhaled and finally glanced at my surroundings.

The interior of the shop was dimly lit, the scent of incense heavy in the air. Shelves lined the walls, filled with strange trinkets, books and scrolls, and jars of herbs. Threads of magic, powerful and old, lingered in the dusty space.

“Running from something, are we?” a voice, soft and knowing, called from the back of the shop.

I turned as an aging fae emerged from the shadows. Her long, silver hair was braided down her back, and her bright blue eyes gleamed with an awareness that made my skin prickle. She wore a cloak of deep purple, the edges embroidered with shimmering runes that seemed to shift in the lantern light.

“No, I—” I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. “Apologies, I needed a place to… think.”

The oracle’s lips curved into a faint smile as she tilted her head, studying me. “Think… or hide?”

I didn’t answer, but my silence must’ve told her enough.

She walked closer, her footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor. “You’re not from here,” she said softly, though there was no judgment in her tone. “And you carry something… heavy.”

My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to stay calm. “I’m just passing through.”

The oracle raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening. “Perhaps. But you’re not just any visitor, are you?”

I forced an innocuous smile. “I’m no one.”

Her gaze lingered on me, the intensity of it making me feel as though she could see right through the lie. She gestured to a small table near the back of the shop. “Sit. Have some tea with me.”

The sight of the runes sewn into her cloak caught my eye again. I’d seen them before. First, in a text Amanti had brought home—the one that had sent her to Vorinthia in the first place. And again in the book I’d borrowed from Duron’s collection. My heart slammed harder against my chest. I’d chosen correctly when I’d spotted this place.

I followed her over and took one of the empty chairs.

“The runes on your cloak—are you familiar with the Verdant?”

She shot me a knowing look before returning her attention to the tea she now poured. “I’m familiar.”

I leaned forward. “Do you know anything about their methods? The old magic?”

“I’ve heard of it.” She set a steaming mug before me and sat, not bothering with cream or sugar as she picked up her own and drank its bitter contents in gulps. It reminded me of Sonoma.

My chest ached, and I forced myself to sip my own too-hot tea, letting it scald away my grief.

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