Page 101 of The Oracle of Dusk

Aurora shifted in his arms, her chains clinking.

“Find the key to her fetters. This woman is the most important asset in the whole of Trisia. More important than me.” The spy widened his eyes in shock. “She’s an oracle, and in two days, the day the queen throws a party here to celebrate the end of the plague, monstrosities will appear in the vivarium. She gave me her bag, now confiscated. There were two ancient artefacts inside. Retrieve them along with the scroll. The beast she drew on it must be hunted down and eliminated at all costs. Do you understand?”

“But Your Majesty, are we to protect her over you?”

He looked down at her. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed with anxiety. He brushed a blonde strand from her face. Was she more important? Was her life worth more than his? If he died, Batea would have a small army of capable, loyal advisors whose secrets she knew well enough to manipulate. A good king ensured his kingdom was so robust as to function in his absence. If Aurora died, the greatest power in Trisia went with her.

“Yes. Find a way to get her out of here as soon as possible. Spare no expense, use every resource. And protect her by all means necessary. I don’t have to tell you how valuable a true oracle is.”

“I will relay your orders…and have some of the more sympathetic attendants see to you both in the meantime.”

“One more thing,” he added, taking his own miniaturized ancient artefact from the lining of his tunic. He handed it to the spy. “Have this infused with divine magic. On the day of the attack, they’ll paint me in gold, and force the rest of the prisoners here to wear the garb of prostitutes. Have both my gold and whatever garb is made for her similarly infused with divine magic. Any of our people here that day should do likewise.”

“I’ll see to it at once.”

He waved him off.

Once the spy left, Theron tried to get some sleep.

He didn’t like the idea that this one woman was more important than he was, that her life mattered more. Once again, he wondered at the Theron from her vision, the one who had stepped in front of the monstrosity. Since that afternoon, he’d begun to understand why he might be willing to sacrifice his own life to save hers. Aureum needed her. Trisia needed her. She understood the gravity of the situation to come and acted accordingly. It was simply his good fortune that she didn’t seem to understand the leverage that afforded her.

Always, she bargained from a place of weakness. It made her so easy to control, as Orithyia seemed to know. But where Orithyia had decided to control her through fear and pain, Theron knew the better option was through softer, more insidious means. Aurora was alone and scared, so he would show her how steadfast an ally he was, how protective, how…loving. This was a woman who was wary enough not to fall for his seductions, but not guarded enough to rebuff even the most minor kindnesses. In the few days he had left in her company, he would tie her to him so thoroughly that even if he died, she would feel indebted to him—to Aureum.

Theron closed his eyes and leaned against the hard column at his back. It figured that in this wretched queendom, he’d only managed a few days of sleeping in a paltry excuse for a bed. When he woke in the morning, it was to Aurora pleading with the attendant.

“Please, you must tell the queen or the high priestess that monstrosities will appear here in only a few days. She can’t hold her party here. People will die!”

“You’re insane. There’s no such thing as an oracle. Now, let go of me!” The attendant shoved Aurora off her and went on with her tasks.

“Please, whatever you do, just don’t be here that day! Please!”

Theron reached out to her. She turned around to face him, shaking beneath his touch.

“Save your breath, Aurora.”

“We can still stop it. No one has to die!”

“Very few will believe you. You know that, right?” he asked, trying his best to calm her. She really was made in a different mould, to care about the lives of people who had treated her with such disdain and cruelty.

“Then I’ll save the ones who do.”

But over the course of the next two days, all she’d accomplished was to earn the contempt and derision of the attendants and guards she pled with. The atrium had become a place most preferred to avoid, save for the necessary tasks of delivering food and drink or escorting Aurora in chains to relieve herself. Even then, she begged them to heed her warning. It didn’t help that rumours had begun to spread about what she’d done to the guard in the temple plaza, or that the temple of Justice had begun a quarrel with the palace in the meantime. There was no one inclined to listen to her within the walls of the palace, not even when he lent his voice to hers.

Except his spies.

Unfortunately, Flora had decided to take note of Aurora and Theron’s connection to her, and so the queen kept the key to Aurora’s fetters on her at all times. Worse, not one of his spies possessed the magic to destroy the chains in a fashion that wouldn’t rouse the guards forever stationed just outside the doors to the atrium. He was beginning to lose any semblance of hope that the future she’d witnessed could be changed at all.

When the morning bells announced the end of the plague and the reopening of Boreas, it was all he could do to tamp down his terror at his looming execution. Shortly thereafter, the attendants and guards entered the atrium en mass. His last ray of hope extinguished as he spotted the garments they held in their arms.

Pale green and see-through, the airy wisps of nothing were the garb of prostitutes. Two attendants carried a vat of gold paint, struggling with the weight of the liquid between them. Just as her vision had shown. Moments later, the other residents of the vivarium were herded into the atrium, giving him and Aurora as wide a berth as possible.

The head of the attendants, a plump older woman with tanned skin and grey streaks in her black hair stepped forward and clapped her hands to garner everyone’s attention.

“Tonight, Boreas’ most illustrious citizens will gather here. You are to be bathed and attired in celebration of the end of the plague. If you resist, the guards have been authorized to force your compliance. Please Her Majesty and her guests, and your accommodations may be made more comfortable. Upset Her Majesty or the guests, and you will rue the day you were born.”

She motioned for her small army to march forward to their charges.

“Theron,” Aurora whispered in a panic.

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