Page 4 of Oracle of Ruin

I rise to my knees and retch up all the meager contents of my stomach into the grass. Blaine and Derrín recoil, but Rowan and Emilie kneel beside me. Rowan has one of his hands on my abdomen, holding me up so I don’t face-plant into my own vomit, while Emilie dabs the back of my neck and my face with a damp rag. The feeling of their fingers and their body heat pressing against mine has another bout of nausea tearing through my body. I fight the urge to vomit again, gagging and holding my breath.

Rowan brushes my bangs from my face. “Let it out, love.”

I spit into the grass and groan once the final wave of illness ceases. This is why I don’t give myself time to think. With thinking comes memories, with memories comes guilt, and with guilt comesthis.

“Have you been chewing your ginger root?” Rowan asks, despite knowing the answer to his question. We both know there is nothing physically wrong with me and no ginger root will be able to take back the things I’ve seen. The things I’ve caused.

One of my mistakes sits opposite to us, biting his fingernails and eyeing the ground where Rowan just dumped out his drink. To say I wasn’t pleased that Rowan had hid him from me is the understatement of the century. Imagine my shock when I woke up in the middle of the forest, surrounded by a gang of mercenaries and my first love, who was drunk out of his mind, all while wearing the blood of my best friend.

However, my anger was soon overridden by panic as the screaming started. I had been out for a few hours, just long enough for them to move us farther into the woods, closer to Belam and just far enough away to avoid their first attack. The Kijova didn’t go for the decrepit cities that homed mainly the cursed. No, they went for the nobles—the nobles who were the blindest of all, sitting in their glass houses protected by the thin veil of monetary privilege. They never saw it coming.

The First Dark is what that night is now called. All the lights in the kingdom went out and the Kijova descended upon all—the elderly, the young, the healthy, the ill. None who were caught in their path were spared. The death toll of that night alone is estimated to be half the kingdom. Those who escaped went into hiding. The beasts went on the hunt.

We’ve been running for our lives ever since, just trying to live day by day. We haven’t had a spare moment to think of a plan. Nothing goes past the consideration stage before it is scrapped to the bin. All possible answers are suddenly impossible in the face of this tragedy.

We’ve all settled into a semblance of a routine with minimal discomfort. We change our camp location every so often, either to avoid being found or because we have been found. Both leave us traveling by foot for miles through the harsh environment of the mountains. At most, we can stay in any given place for a month before they find us, but never much longer.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Rowan offers me his hand, which I gratefully accept, when Kya steps out from the tent we just left.

She tuts her tongue and holds out her arms with a wicked grin. “No can do, lover boy. Amír needs to talk to you about our next move. I’ll go with Vera.” Kya pecks my cheek with a sly look aimed towards Rowan. “Don’t worry, I’ll takerealgood care of her.”

I can’t help but smile when Amír steps from the tent, her scowl matching Rowan’s. My friend blows her lover a kiss before dragging me off towards the woods with her.

The assassin has a soothing presence. It is what makes her such a good friend to us and a threat to those on the awaiting end of her espas. Those long daggers bounce at her side now, their slender curve catching the daylight. If her aura doesn’t loosen the lips of informants, then those blades will.

Kya walks ahead of me, her confident feet picking the best path as to avoid brambles and leaving footprints. I mimic her movements clumsily, fatigue causing the world to slightly spin and blur. A stern breeze props me up and Kya calls out ahead that she found it. The sound of rushing water quickly covers her voice and I pick up my pace.

Sunlight bounces off the crystal-clear river, scattering small rainbows and golden ripples on the surface of the water. Small schools of fish swim with the current, the silver of their scales blending in with the silty river bottom.

Kya pulls a minuscule blade from her hair, letting her dark curls fall freely to tumble about her shoulders. She slips from her crimson tunic and folds it neatly atop a tree stump. Her leather tights soon follow until she stands only in her undergarments.

When I saw Kya for the first time, I knew she was probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her curves look as if she has been carved to be the figurehead of a ship and her painted red swirls stand stark in contrast with her dark skin. She never shies from her beauty, but instead hones it as if it is nothing more than another weapon in her arsenal. She is art in its finest form—alluring, beautiful, and dangerous.

I know I look nothing like that. Any semblance of beauty I once held has been drained by sleepless nights and an empty stomach. I wouldn’t mind if it didn’t cause the others to look at me with such pity. My sickness is evident in my dull hair, my hollow cheeks, and knobby knees. Clothes that once fit just a smidge too tight now hang loosely from my frame to the point that Emilie has to fasten pins to keep them on.

I undo these pins from my top, allowing the fabric to slide from my shoulders. My trousers fall to the dirt without assistance and I slide out of the tunic just as easily before following my friend to the riverbank.

I don’t miss the way Kya’s eyes slide over my body. I don’t mind. This gaze is different from the ones she gives Amír, not that I would mind either way. To be appraised by her might be like being admired by the gods themselves. But this look is filled with nothing but sorrow.

The cool water sends gooseflesh prickling across my skin as it rises to meet me. The bite of the cold is enticing and I allow myself to wander further in. The current isn’t too strong, just enough that I feel a slight pull around my ankles.

“Come on in, the water is fine,” I lie, knowing how sensitive Kya is to the cold.

Skeptically, she dips her toes in the water and promptly gasps at the sudden chill. I use the moment to strike, bringing my arm back and sending a wave of freezing water crashing against her sensitive abdomen.

The assassin shrieks and freezes where she stands. Kya holds her breath against the cold until she notices my devious smile.

Unable to hold myself back anymore, I burst into laughter, the joyous sound burbling between my lips and taking over my body until I lose my footing to the current and slip under the water. Coming up sputtering, I shake the water from my hair, the droplets splattering my friend.

With a mischievous grin, she forsakes her previous hesitance towards entering and instead dives my way. A large wall of water slams into my face, sending me into another fit of coughs.

“Gah, I think I swallowed a minnow!” Kya gags upon resurfacing. She pokes my side with a well-manicured finger. “You’ll pay for that.” Kya throws her head back, her dark hair catching fire in the sunlight, casting the slick strands a golden shade. She lowers her head and grins like she always would back when we were still in the palace.

“Patience, my little tyrant,” Tanja laughs with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “It is something I have that you do not. Just you wait.”

A large shadow darkens the sky, the sunlight disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. Kya’s face comes back into view, her beautiful features pinched in concern. I shake my head, my grown-out bangs now falling to cover my face.

“Come on. We should go,” she says softly, leading the way back to the riverbank. The water droplets slide from her body in small clusters, leaving streaks down her neck.

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