Page 153 of The Oracle of Dusk
“What’s the catch?”
“Well, I doubt your husband will be too pleased,” Orithyia laughed. “And I’ll be coming along. I’ve not set foot in Aureum in some time. With the threat of Drakon looming over Trisia, you’ll need every advantage,” she said. When she saw the suspicion in Aurora’s eyes, she sighed. “You don’t have to accept this olive branch, but it was the best I could do on such short notice.”
But would she be a queen, or just a puppet, beholden to the Viridian throne and Orithyia? Did she have a better option, given the circumstances? She’d allowed herself to be manipulated by Theron. Had bound herself to him to free him from his sacred vow. Reckless passion had doomed her now-shattered heart. All that was left—all that mattered—was destroying Drakon.
She laughed bitterly. At least she was no longer torn in two—her path was clear. Destroy Drakon by any means necessary. And if she survived, she would return home, leaving Theron to his loveless, lonely fate and his vicious battles with Viridis. She didn’t need to remain here once her task was done, a pawn of two monarchs. Unlike him, she had people worthy of her love. What did it matter if she was broken? Once this was done, they could piece her back together. Phaedra. Silvanus. Her family. Her Orithyia. She could hold on a little longer, clutch the jagged shards of her heart close just long enough to see this through.
For them.
“I accept your offer,” Aurora said.
Orithyia smiled.
“I thought you might.”
Chapter 26
Asthesunrose,Theron buried his head in his pillow. He wanted a few more hours of rest before the journey back to Aureum. And maybe a slow, leisurely roll in the sheets with his new wife. After all, beds as comfortable as these would be hard to come by on the road home, and he suspected that once they arrived in Altanus, they would be too busy for playful morning trysts. At least for a while. He dozed, daydreaming of what he would do to his delightful wife, until the doors to the room were flung open.
Theron smiled. Aurora had returned. Maybe he would get what he wanted after all.
But her expression was not at all suited for love-making.
Eyes red-rimmed, with the evidence of dried tears on her cheeks, she strode inside with wrath infused into her every step, rage blazing in her green eyes. Gone was the gold and red dress he’d prepared for her. In its place, a gown of Viridian green and silver, emeralds sparkling from her neck, her ears, her fingers, her hair. She was outfitted for court with a royal’s tiara atop her brow—and kitted for war, with a blade at her hip. At her back, a number of Viridian royal guards poured in.
Bewilderment held him in its grip, his lust turning to ash as rage set it alight. The shock of betrayal, dark and ugly, pumped through his veins.
Aurora drew her sword and pressed the tip of it to his throat, her voice as cold as ice and as sharp as glass.
“Take me to my throne.”
