Page 119 of The Shadowed Oracle
“King Horace,” Monia said. “After Enitha overthrew him, she cursed him. In the barracks that I showed you. There’s a dungeon below.”
Ingrid couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “He’s being kept as a slave? The former king? He’s fighting in the games?”
“Yes,” Monia looked wide-eyed to Lucilla for confirmation, and the pale maiden nodded severely.
“Cursed to kill the people he loved and protected,” Lucilla said, voice breaking. “Cursed to do it week after week.”
Monia nudged Ingrid, whispering again like a girl passing notes to a new friend, “Cursed to be hideous, too.”
“Oh?’ Ingrid mouthed.
“Beyond what you can imagine. He’s?—"
“My hope,” Lucilla interrupted. She had heard Monia’s snide whisper concerning her former king’s appearance, but did not attempt to scold her for it. If anything, the mention of his so-called “curse” seemed to bring her some peace. “My hope is that, being in that body, it might make him unaware. That becoming that thing has erased any memory he had of what it was like to be King Horace. What it was like to be Viator.”
Monia put a hand on Lucilla’s shoulder, as a mother might when comforting a daughter who’d seen a monster under her bed. “I’m sure he doesn’t know. Sure of it. You can see it in his eyes. When he’s fighting. That thing only knows how to kill. Nothing less. Nothing more.”
Still cautious, Ingrid only stared back out at the stone temple city. She narrowed in on the barracks Monia had pointed out, where King Horace now resided, cursed to live out his days assomething more animal than Viator. Unaware of who he was, or that he still had a claim to the throne… but alive.
She had so many questions. So many things she needed to say. None more pressing than: how powerful was Enitha to be able to cast such a spell? The question Dean had posed on the ship had been answered now—she was in fact a skilled Magus. But in all her research, Ingrid hadn’t read anything about curses turning Viator into monsters.
It sent shivers down her neck just thinking about it. That kind of power. That kind of dark magic being so close to her friends.
“Sorry,” Ingrid said with a sudden urgency. “I shouldn’t have prodded. I think it’s best we forget this now. Would you kindly lead me to the ball?” Feeling self-conscious, she added with a joking smile. “I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this gown.”
Lucilla dabbed at her eyes where the tears had welled stubbornly. “The fault lies with me, my lady. How silly of me, running my mouth. None outside the castle know of this. I only… I felt I could trust you.” She whipped her head up, meeting Ingrid’s eyes and flashing a pitiful, but heart-warming look. “Can I? Trust you, I mean?”
Ingrid moved closer, brazenly taking her hand. “You can.”
“Same here,” Monia snorted. “If you care. You can trust me, too.”
Lucilla slumped her shoulders forward. “I trust you to drive me batty, girl. And that’s all.” She straightened her dress out with the palms of her hands, taking a deep breath. “Now, we shouldn’t delay any longer. We don’t want our fine lady here to be late for the ball. Enitha wants her new friends front and center. Right at her side.”
As close to her as possible, within spitting distance of that mysterious power of hers.
Ingrid’s chills still hadn’t dissipated.
The vastness of the unending dangers opened up like a great maw before her, threatening to swallow her and her friends whole.
Chapter Thirty-Six
It wasapparent right away that Lucilla was only being polite. By “new friends,” she meant Dean and Raidinn, and by “front and center,” she meant utterly ignored and left to roam around the decorated great hall.
In some ways, it was relief. In other ways, it made her task all the more difficult. She made her way through half-naked performers, drunken dancing guests, armed guards standing at attention, and animal trainers leading housebroken beasts through the party like it was a petting zoo to find Tyla.
But she was nowhere to be seen. A lap around produced only a few propositions to dance and a near accident involving a tall glass of red wine that would’ve made Ingrid’s skin-tight gown all the more uncomfortable.
She turned her sights on the male members of her team.
A quick assessment of the ballroom upon entrance had uncovered Raidinn and Dean still next to the newlyweds. They were mere feet from their target, Arryn, but even closer to Enitha, who was sandwiched between them on yet another high-rise settee at the very center of the party. It was a bulky distraction even amongst the silver ribbons and bannershanging all over the ballroom, gaudily adorned with animal-fur blankets and bejeweled pillows.
Transplanted as she was, Ingrid couldn’t wrap her head around the show of it. Surely it wasn’t customary for monarchs to, quite literally, elevate themselves above those they called their friends at every single function. And the physics of it was only part of the uncouth display. The clash of expensive jewelry and flashy gilded garments with gauche upholstery and mismatched bright colors recalled the newly rich humans she met back on Earth. As if the sudden acquisition of wealth had erased their natural sensibilities in favor of the loudest stylistic proclamations possible.
Ingrid allowed herself a short-lived laugh, then zeroed back in on her friends. They looked at ease for now, still dressed as they were on the ship that morning. Dean was hard at work, playing his part, and Raidinn looked like he always looked—having as much fun as possible while he could.
She could only guess what plans they had to separate Enitha from Arryn, but ideally, before that, Ingrid would find a way to tell the two males what she’d learned of Enitha’s power. Warn them of the very real threat that, until now, had been downplayed by Callinora.
Ingrid kept one eye on Arryn and her friends while again sifting through the crowd. There was still no sign of Tyla, but by the dance floor, she saw the bright-eyed Monia hiding behind one of the sigil banners. Her hands were up, holding an invisible dance partner and moving along to the music.
