Page 59 of Oracle of Ruin

I’m not wrong. Amír stands by a griddle flipping grainy pancakes while Kya lays against her back with her arms weaving around her middle. A bowl of winter berries occupies the center of the table next to a plate of roasted potatoes. A pot of coffee sits beside the griddle, the black liquid less appetizing now with the absence of milk and sugar. Derrín sits at the table, popping a piece of meat into his mouth and sipping at the black coffee. Blaine and Torin sit beside him, completely engrossed in their conversation.

“Where’s Mom?” Rowan asks through a yawn. He stretches and attempts to right his bedhead.

Amír nods to the porch out front and he follows it out the door. A few moments later, they reenter, Emilie greeting me with another hug. She smiles when she notes the less noticeable dark circles under my eyes and motions for me to sit beside her. Rowan serves us both platters of breakfast before going to serve himself.

“Where’s this breakfast in bed for us?” Torin quips.

My eyebrow raises at the new closeness between him and the mercenary.

Rowan takes a slow sip from his mug of coffee. “Last I checked, they’re not in bed.”

“Touché.”

Blaine remains silent.

Emilie coos over my hair, noting that she would have to trim the edges for me soon and asking when I last saw the sun. I swallow back the image of that man and his charred remains, split in half. I smile instead and tell her how I beat Emi at a snowball fight, leaving out names or identifying details, of course. Rowan and the others go rigid at the mention of my time with Mavis, but Emilie only smiles.

“We do need to talk about that, by the way,” Amír notes, spatula in hand. “What happened with Mavis?”

“Laei, Amír, it is dawn.Dawn,” Rowan groans.

I frown at his reluctance to discuss what has happened. The same way he has withheld the information on Blaine’s whereabouts in the past, or why Torin is with the rebels now and yet sitting here at our table.

I clear my throat. “Actually, we do need to talk.” I swallow a bite of food before swiveling towards Torin.

He pauses for a moment, then his shoulders slump in resignation. “I suppose I do owe you some answers.”

“You suppose?”

“I do,” Torin responds surely. He sighs deeply, his hands bracing on his knees. When he opens his mouth, he tells me all that I assume he has told the others. How the rebels found him half-dead outside the palace after a near-death encounter with one of the first Kijova. How Ruby was with them already and convinced them to save him. In turn, he was nursed to health and pledged his allegiance for pure survival, until he got the notion that he could work his way up the ranks to save my life. He tells me how originally, he planned to use them and leave, but has now decided to be a double agent to convince them to spare my life and unify all the survivors. He explains his guilt, his suffering, and begs for forgiveness.

But there is nothing to forgive.

Torin’s eyes swell with tears as I squeeze his hand and tell him as much. Blaine stiffens but smiles a bit at that, some of the tension disappearing slowly from his face. Then their eyes turn to me and I divulge all that occurred at Mavis’s compound.

“And there’s another thing,” I offer meekly. I spotted the teeth when I entered last night, figuring they were the pieces of “me” that Kya explained were shipped to the Nightwalkers. I stalk over and claim one before they can stop me and plead with the dark magic that has been lying dormant in my blood. It responds to my call and forms a small ball in my palm, dancing in contrast to the morning light.

I expect maybe awe or slight fear. I do not expect Emilie to go pale and clutch at her chest before excusing herself from the room. Amír swears and Kya’s eyes widen. The others just stare open-mouthed until the darkness disappears, taking the tooth along with it. I wash my hand off in the sink before returning to my breakfast.

“Mavis taught me to wield dark magic without paying the cost. She said it would make me more powerful if I could wield both light and dark. It would make me the most powerful weapon in this war.” I do my best to explain and wait for the relief to show on my friends’ faces.

Pure disgust and horror show instead.

The worst of them though?

Rowan does his best to conceal his shock, which is horrifying given how well he usually hides his emotions. His throat bobs and his eyes widen, sending a knife through my gut.

Kya swallows thickly and is the one who tries to hide it the best. “Let’s talk about this later,” she says slowly, gauging the others’ reactions like one would a wounded animal. “We’ve got more news.”

I take a long sip from my mug, peering over the lip intently as Amír unfurls a long parchment. Names have been messily scrawled across, and she assesses each with a predatory gleam in her eye. “We didn’t have a moment to fill you in on everything yesterday, given… everything. But the rebels will be here with delegates in roughly…” she glances outside, then back at me, “two hours to discuss the terms of our alliance and plans moving forward. Seb will be there too.”

My heart rises as quickly as it sinks. Seb is alive and coming, but so are the rebels. Someone who was willing to die to protect me and a group of people who want me dead. I’d think that the two emotions would cancel each other out, but I am left feeling jittery and anxious yet relieved simultaneously.

“You just got back, so you don’t have to come if you’re not ready,” Rowan says carefully, running his tongue over each word as if tasting their danger.

I can feel my eyes narrow ever so slightly at his words as I push myself away from the table and stand to get ready. “I’m ready. Or I will be in a few minutes after I get dressed.”

I ignore their searing stares as I leave the room. Undoubtedly, questions will begin to swirl the moment I leave, about what truly happened while I was with Mavis, my new powers, Emi. They saw the way the girl’s eyes drifted from Rowan’s form to mine during her declaration of hatred, they’ve just yet to say anything about it. Amír usually would be the first to, but somehow, she’s managed to show a modicum of restraint.

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