Page 68 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
“I’m no oracle. I was just pretending for the mortals?—”
“Humor me.”
I take Seth’s hand. It’s warmer than I expected—callused, a little grimy, a fading smudge of blood near the heel. His fingers twitch when I trace the center crease of his palm.
“This is your lifeline,” I say.
“Looks short.”
“Could mean that you fake your death at some point. Start over somewhere. New name, new haircut, terribly boring wife. Maybe you take up some weird hobby, like collecting feathers to make your own quills.”
The corners of his mouth tilt upward. “Only if I get to write you love letters.”
Shaking my head at his blatant attempt to flirt, I follow another crease. “Here’s your fate line. It’s…tangled. Means you’ll most likely encounter troubles on your way to greatness.”
He leans in, eyes fixed on my mouth instead of his hand. “And what about my love line, O’ Wise Oracle?”
“A heart line that stretches all the way across the palm is rare. A great love awaits you, one that’ll never end, even in death,” I answer truthfully.
Blimey.
I don’t give much credit to the mortal science of palm reading, but I definitely should have said something silly and mocking instead—poked fun at him for his endless string of lovers.
I find myself hypnotized by the lines of his hand, the shape of his fingers. The warmth of his skin, the weight of his arm pressed close.
The fire pops. The moment stretches.
He cups my face and caresses my lips with his thumb. “What’s it like—having everyone you meet fall in love with you?” he murmurs.
“It’s horrible,” I blurt out, no sarcasm or false pretense shielding me now. Just a raw, brutal ache throbbing in my chest, like my heart was carved out, and the gaping hole where it used to beat was left to bleed. “Because they all leave in the end.”
“You’re…perfect. Body and mind. Who could ever leave you?”
“But who could stay?” I shoot back. “I’m Devi Eros. Men find an excuse— I’m a queen, or I’m too beautiful, or have too much power, or attract too much attention. I look too young. There’s always a reason.”
The silence thickens, taking on a life of its own. The dying embers of the fire glow bright orange before vanishing into smoke.
“I’ll stay. If you let me in,” Seth murmurs.
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“It starts here. Now.” He squeezes my hand, and I let go too fast, jerking away.
Percy clears his throat. “If you're done reading his fortune, we could use more kindling.”
“Your fortune,” I say, pretending I’m not rattled, “is that Percy’s going to murder us both if we don’t keep the fire going.”
Seth reaches for the ceiling to avoid smashing his head as he stands. “Alright. I’ll be right back.”
I wait until the sound of his footsteps fade, and check on the blade I crammed under a rock in a hurry while his eyes were closed. I wiggle the dragon sheath out of its hiding place and tuck it away at the bottom of my backpack.
Percy winces, swaying from the balls of his toes to his heels with his hands linked at his front. “Maybe we should tell him about our mission. It won’t be easy hiding that blade from him, and the more we wait, the more he’ll resent us.”
I shoot my Faeling an annoyed glare. “Who’s got a crush on Seth now?”
“Me?” he huffs. “You almost slept with him last night.”
“Ipretendedto sleep with him.”
