Page 50 of Of Vows and War: Special Edition
“Who was this Oracle?” I asked, trying not to let any emotion seep into my voice. I was not going to allow myself to look weak in front of them or anyone else.
“Which one?” Bellamy asked, picking up the journal I had tossed. My fingers halted on the page I opened to, looking up at the prince.
“There was more than one? What were they?” Noe looked at me as I spoke, her keen eyes squinted in thought. From my peripheral, I could see her fingers tapping on her stomach where her hands rested. She was observing me. Not the airheaded fool she portrayed herself as, then.
“Every few millennia, a fae is born that can see both the past and the future. It is an extremely rare ability, and a taxing one at that,” Bellamy said, his mind clearly straying elsewhere. “Seeing so much without always choosing to…I cannot imagine how awful that would be. I was given a glimpse of such a thing once, and I would not wish that weight on even your psycho ass.”
“So if Asta met with an Oracle, then she could have changed the future she was told?” I asked, incredulous. That was extraordinary. Different than what even Venturae could do. Asta would have been given the chance to manipulate the future itself.
“Well, sort of. The future is always changing. Any Tomorrow or Oracle will tell you that. Every decision you make can alter it. But, if she was given instructions and followed them, then shecould have encouraged the future that was foreseen. Did she say what she was told?”
“No, the entry stops there and so does the journal. That one must have been her last. She does mention her mother briefly, which confirms my suspicion that Stella was here with her.” I let my voice trail off, reading an entry towards the beginning of the journal in my hand.
This one was from when her son, Zayan, was still alive. She wrote about the way he spoke, how the demons seemed to listen to his every command. How extraordinary he was. I smiled despite myself, thinking of how special her youngling would have been. Then, while I was already far more emotional than I normally was, I caught sight of my name.
“What has you so uncharacteristically happy?” Bellamy asked. He acted as if he knew me. It infuriated me, but even that could not tear the smile off my face.
“Asta wrote about me. She called me a connoisseur of debauchery and reveler in chaos,” I whispered, laughing at her choice of words. Then, even quieter, I added, “She said she missed her best friend.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Perdita
Father always said that to die rich was better than to live poor.
It was one of the few things we agreed on. Although, now that he had, in fact, died rich, I wondered if he still thought such a thing wherever he was. The Underworld, ideally.
Finding out that he was dead had been jarring—freeing. Now that we had a job to do, and gold to find, he could hold no space in my mind. It was better that way. He did not deserve my thoughts, even if they were hateful and spiteful. So instead, I sought out Dima.
It had been two days since we boarded the prince’s ship. The same amount of time since I had nearly let her die.
“You hesitated to let the Healer save me. Do not pretend you care about anything other than gold. Not when you proved that to be true when my life was hanging in the balance!” she had signed before retreating to her quarters below deck. Dima was holding a grudge, it seemed.
What had she expected me to do? Nothing was more important than my ship and my gold. They had attacked us. Of course I was considering killing the Healer instead of letting him save her. It would have been the strategic move. But then the prince had trapped my crew, and I was forced to accept the help. She saw that I refused his aid for myself in favor of one last attempt at securing their goods. How could she be upset when I was not willing to save even myself?
No matter, she would forgive me.
Lifting my hand, I knocked. My fist hitting the wood made my skin tingle, rattling my bones. Dima was quick to rip open her door and glare at me with her violet eyes. When I tried to step forward, she halted me with a slap to the face. Fire erupted on my cheek, the sting of her smack not enough to deter me.
If I could just get inside, I could make her forget.
“Please, can I come in, Storm?” I asked. She watched my hands with downturned lips, preparing to say no. “Do not make me force my way in.”
Dima threw the door all the way open, stomping away to her bed. She sat, crossing her legs beneath her rose-colored dress. The material clung to her body, some of it hidden beneath her pitch-black hair. I smirked, walking in and closing the door behind me.
“You need to get over your anger, Dima. I would have done the same to anyone. Even you are not more important than our mission—mygoals. You know this. So why do you shut me out?” She watched me, becoming visibly more angry as I signed. Gods how I grew wet watching her chest heave in fury.
“You are pathetic! All this time wasted on gold and glory, but you refuse to let anyone share it with you. When you die, your life will have been just as pointless as your father’s. Nothing and no one left to show for it.” Her lips moved faster than her hands. I moved even quicker.
I portaled to her bed, landing above her and shoving her down by the neck. She squirmed, a sort of panic lighting her eyes. My own anger blurred my vision, her words hitting exactly where she hoped they would.
Using her surprise against her, I grabbed both of her hands and held them above her head, willing shadows to tie them together. Then I ordered them to secure to the wood of her bed. Next, I tied her feet. She wiggled beneath me, a tear falling down her cheek.
My hands moved to her breasts, gripping them and squeezing. A moan rattled her chest, making bumps rise on my skin.
She gasped as I ripped her dress in half, my mouth flying down to her left breast. I bit down on the flesh there as I shoved two fingers between her legs. She writhed below me, struggling against the shadows that confined her. We both knew this would hurt just as much as it pleasured.
Pulling out my fingers, I smacked her dripping center. Once, twice, three times. Then I switched to her other breast, licking and sucking and enjoying every moment of her moans that vibrated on my lips as my fingers slipped back into her. When my eyes flicked up to her face, I saw she had already been watching me. Her lips formed a single word, a plea before the end. Truthfully, I could watch her say that for years on end and never grow tired of it.
