Page 13 of Oracle of Ruin

My first thought when I dare to lift my gaze is that Mavis may be one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Her tanned skin stands stark in contrast with her silver hair, highlighted by the occasional black streak. She stands tall and lithe, toned with years of muscle and scar tissue from a life of conflict. One eye is a warm, chocolatey brown, while the other a green that is a few shades darker than Rowan’s. She wears a deep red cloak with a double-edged sword hanging at her hip, one side cursed, the other regular steel.

It isn’t hard to see how Rowan fell in love with her. Confidence radiates around the woman, and each step she takes rattles the compound.

“Argon. Report while you still have a tongue.” Her voice is rich and smooth, the timbre of a politician. A powerful weapon of manipulation to fit in nicely with her other blade: beauty.

The mercenary’s face goes pale and his hands shake. I grind my teeth to stop from crying out in pain. Mavis’s calculating gaze slides over to my pinched features and Argon quickly begins to ramble his recounting of last night’s events.

He exaggerates the fight, stating I killed the men that he left behind. Some of the other soldiers blanch at his blatant lie, but Mavis’s face remains impassive. His own face reddens as he speaks and he wildly waves his hands around, my body groaning in protest as the motion forces movement into my stiff limbs.

“We had no time to dress her. It was too much of a risk. She took out many of our best men on her own without a weapon. We couldn’t risk freeing her hands.”

A small swell of smug pride settles in my core. Even at my worst, I was able to take out some of her best fighters. I bite back a comment about how they had to wait until I was sickly and frail to kidnap me, but stop when I see Mavis slide her gaze my way.

The woman’s face softens as if she is considering this, and the man visibly relaxes. Mavis’s fingers tap the hilt of her sword and she steps within a pace of us both. Eagerly awaiting a reward, he holds me out to her, my shoulder protesting with a sickening pop.

In an instant, Mavis’s eyes darken and her blade flashes.

Argon cries out in pain as his grip on me loosens. Warmth trickles down my arm. I look down, and to my horror, find his severed hand slipping from my forearm.

Mavis stands before us, her sword now wet with crimson and golden blood. “She is a woman, regardless of her affiliation, and deserves to be treated with respect. Now someone find her a cloak or it’ll be yourheadrather than your hand.”

Every goon of hers stands at attention, suddenly forgetting their sneers and their wandering eyes. Some rush off to find clothing, while others stand still in fear of retribution.

Instead, I step forward and wrap my fingers around her toned arm, eliciting a gasp from the mercenaries. “Why would you do that?”

Mavis eyes me for a moment, a predator deciding whether to strike, then shakes my hand off. Nevertheless, she takes a step closer. “Isn’t it clear? Men are like children, they need discipline. My dog knows how to sit on command. I expect the same from my soldiers.”

“But he won’t be as useful to you now!”

Mavis barks a laugh, her pointy and pristine teeth catching the torchlight.

Some members of her crew chuckle nervously, presumably not to lose their tongues, but I can’t find it in my heart.

“Useful? You speak of usefulness? Here I thought you were a tender heart.” She steps even closer. My breath catches in my throat as she brings a well-manicured hand up to brush stray hairs from my face. I can smell the spearmint upon her breath as she cups my jaw with her hand. “Rowan taught you well, I see.”

With the hand not holding my face, she unfastens her own cloak, muttering about the incompetency of her servants, before tossing it over my shoulders. The crimson fabric is soft against my bare skin, embroidered with the finest gold thread. I find it almost a shame that my wet hair clings to it, ruining the cloth.

“Any soldier worth his salt learns to adapt.” She tuts her tongue, a finger tangling in a saturated strand of my hair. “General Neris, show her to her rooms.”

The kind soldier from earlier steps forward, her arm wrapping around my shoulders both in an act of steadying me and keeping the cloak around my shaking body. She frets over the blue hue my skin and lips have taken on and rubs her hands up and down my arms.

“Is she always like that?” I murmur through chattering teeth.

The other servants and soldiers clear the way as we walk down a long hallway.

“I’ll pretend I don’t know what you mean by that.” She grins broadly and nods to a group of soldiers we pass. They bow their heads in respect and continue on their way without a single glance in my direction.

“All the high-ranking soldiers here are female,” I note.

“Mavis prefers it that way. Men comprise our servants and foot soldiers that she sends to do the dirty work. Women are the only ones allowed in her inner circle.”

I don’t think too long on the information Neris hands me. The fact that I am walking and talking casually with the woman who oversaw sending out men to find and kidnap me for the past year is far more jarring. Luren pops into my head and my leg screams with the phantom pain of his blade skinning my calf.

“Do you know what she wants with me?”

Neris shakes her head. “I can’t say, but your safety is guaranteed. No one here will harm you.”

“I doubt they’d be able to if they tried,” I respond swiftly, bunching my fists at my side. I don’t mention to her that the deep calling of my power to my soul has dimmed since entering Mavis’s domain. Even now, as I try to conjure even the smallest fragment of light, my fingertips only sizzle and sputter.

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