Page 78 of The Shadowed Oracle
“Tell us what you want,” Tyla ordered, teetering a line she knew would rattle the princess. By the look on Callinora’s face, she wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, especially not by an outsider.
“Precarious position you find yourselves in,” the princess mused. “And already you’re making demands?” She locked up, then placed the key to the door back inside her dress. “I admire it.”
“Yet, you’re still stalling?” Tyla asked.
“Yes, I suppose I am. But I’m afraid I have to keep you waiting a little longer.” Callinora looked down at herself. “This dress, and these shoes,they were an absolute nightmare to walk in all morning. A change of clothing is a must before I even think about discussing anything seriously. I will meet you out on the veranda in a few minutes.” She looked to Ingrid. “Continue to make yourself at home until then.”
Her hemline spun in sparkling glory as she turned and made her way toward a door in the back of her room.
Once the princess was out of sight, Ingrid wasted no time taking advantage of her host’s invitation. The table full of food had been beckoning to her since she’d stepped inside. Not wanting to appear rude, she’d only made small steps toward the spread while her eyes went elsewhere, hoping Callinora would take the hint. The journey had been long, and Raidinn’s satchel of stale tree nuts hardly satiated her appetite.
The others quickly joined Ingrid in the voracious feast. They ate in silence, hunched like wild animals scanning the area for competing predators.
A canopy bed large enough to fit the five of them with golden silk sheets and bone-white ivory columns sat in the center of the room. Next to the bed was a six-foot-tall dresser carved with the story of some crowned Viator, his Weycus wolf at his side. And at the edge of the wood-paneled floor, leading to theveranda Callinora spoke of, was an easel holding a half-finished landscape painting.
It was Maradenn, Ingrid realized, from the perspective of where the painter herself sat every night, looking out at her city.
Dean was the first to wipe his hands and walk over to see it for himself. He kept his head turned away from the others as they joined his side. Ingrid was just as taken with the view as she had been with the rest of the castle, but she quickly shifted her sights on Dean, sensing something was off with him.
His eyes were wide, mouth shriveled and jaw clenched like he was holding back a sob creeping up his throat. Ingrid might’ve ignored it, if actual tears hadn’t started falling down his cheek.
“What is it?” she whispered, guessing he’d rather keep this display a secret from Raidinn.
“It’s…” His voice was a shaky murmur. “Karis, he described it perfectly. It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Ingrid agreed.
As the sky darkened and the lights of Maradenn started to flicker on, the enormity of it all became more apparent—the stronghold of mountains and sea surrounding the city acting as a frame for the vibrant beauty. Intricate architecture ranging from stone houses to towering skyscrapers, with well-cultivated agriculture sprawling throughout, and the sea beyond to the west was like a mirror reflecting it all back up to the stars.
It was a painting containing millions of stories within.
“Can never quite capture the ocean,” Callinora said. She was standing just feet behind them. Now wearing a far more casual, emerald green flowing dress, lightly cinched at the waist and wrapped loosely over her shoulders. “The mirror effect always eludes me.”
“I think you’ve done well,” Raidinn said, leaning over to peek at the canvas once more. “Very… astute.”
“Astute?” Tyla scoffed. She couldn’t help herself.
“Hell,” Raidinn argued. “I was only being polite.”
“So, youdon’tlike the painting?” Callinora smirked.
“I do! Great painting, your Highness. Brilliant, really.” He clasped his hands behind his back, staring at the floor. Even at his massive size, he appeared like a shy child who’d been forced to interact with strange adults for the first time. “Can we move on now?”
Tyla and Callinora both let out a courteous laugh.
“Of course,” the princess said mercifully. “Only lightening the mood.” She stepped out to the veranda and placed a hand on the engraved wood railing, the fire and starlight from the city glistening in her eyes. “Seeing as you aren’t from here, we might be discussing some rather dark topics you aren’t fully informed on.”
Tyla shook her head in a vehement denial. “We don’t need sugar-coating. We’ve seen enough of the horror to know. Please, we’re all anxious to hear why you brought us here.” An urgency came over her, glancing about the room. “Or why you brought us inside the castle in the first place?”
Callinora deigned a bow of her head, apologetic. “Yes, you deserve answers. So I’ll speak plainly.” She turned to Ingrid and Dean. “I take your silence to mean your accent would’ve given you away? Am I right?”
“We were only being careful,” Ingrid admitted.
“And rightfully so.” Callinora shook her head regretfully. “It is a sign of the times, nothing more. I’m sure you know by now, but this prejudice wasn’t accepted when I was a girl. The tales of the first Magus and his madness only served as fairy tales for children back then. Far from the religious fervor they’ve become.”
Dean nodded in agreement. He’d dried his tears, and there was no sign of the complex emotions he’d had seconds before. It had been replaced with his typical severity.
“I remember it,” he said. “I was seven years old when I first came here. My mother and…” He nearly said the wordfather, but opted instead for, “Both my parents. They took me to Ealis. We were able to walk fearlessly through the towns outside Hydor.” He looked out again at the bright and beautiful city below, shaking his head. “When we arrived here a few days ago, we didn’t know who we could trust. Maradenn was the closest we could get. But now…”
