Page 90 of Oracle of Ruin

“But you still lied to me.”

His eyes darken in confusion, so I continue.

“You lied when we met about your mother. You implied that she had just died, but I went to the funeral years ago. How can I trust you when you lied from the beginning?”

Something pitch black forces his jaw to clench as this newer aura moves in like smoke over his features. The clouds begin to gather above us, dark and pregnant with rain.

The prince’s shoulders square, his linen tunic straining against his powerful muscles. “I didn’t lie.”

“But—”

“You attended thequeen’sfuneral. My mother was a consort and I was passed off as the queen’s legitimate child. So Idounderstand you, Verosa. Better than anyone ever can. I understand your rage that manifests as this desire for freedom. I understand every step you take and how you keep yearning for something more than the love you were given. I understand.” His eyes narrow to slits. “Mymotherdidn’t even get a funeral.”

I must be gaping because Lucius hooks his thumb under my jaw and closes my lips with his fingers before continuing with a low growl.

“It happens all the time. How the hell did you think Ophelus wound up on the throne? The previous king fell in love with a cursed woman. She became his official mistress when she came to be with child, only for the baby to be born cursed, not a hybrid.” A dry laugh. “The queen had already died from the shock when she discovered her ‘loving husband’ had a consort, and he had Ophelus’s mother put to death for treason. Left without an heir, Ophelus became king, only to kill his father for the murder of his mother. Sound familiar?”

Rowan.

My Rowan born from a vicious cycle of bloodlust and hatred between fathers. Our whole kingdom has been born from it. Now we must end it.

“I would never sacrifice someone innocent to bring someone else back.” Lucius’s fingers fall from my lips when I pull my jaw from his grasp. “You’re too far gone to be anything like me.”

Another vicious laugh comes, this time as the first drops of rain hit my face. I shiver, not from the cold, as my gown is soaked and Lucius runs a hand through his wet hair. He pushes it from his face and dips his chin in a serpentine glower. Beautiful. Dangerous. Entirely different from the man I was speaking to just moments before. I take a step back. Then another.

“I don’t know how that boy managed to break through, but he’s made quite a mess of this. Perhaps I should just kill you now.” The thing inside Lucius slurs every “s” as he staggers my way, his hand palming the sword at his hip. His eyes flash milky white for a moment. “I warned you, I owned you. I ownallof you, and you disobey me?’

As his words become further slurred, I cannot tell who he is speaking to. Me… or Lucius.

My bare feet slip in the mud as I back up. This is my dream, dammit, I should be able to wake up. My heels hit the waters of the moat and as I twist my spine, I am met with the sight of the crumbling palace, bodies hanging from the towers.

“Verosa,” Lucius gasps. His face is buried in his scarred hands, his gait stalking. He’s only three paces away now. Two. One. His hand rests on my sternum then brushes right to hover above my heart.

The wind picks up, lightning streaking the sky behind him until the world is howling.

“Verosa, run.”

Then he shoves my chest,hard, and I spiral into the murky waters.

A low, rumbling sound comes from within the woods, then the distant sounds of screams. I leap to my feet, my fists out and ready. Awake. I am awake now and the screams are not in my mind anymore. They ring clear through the forest, guttural and raw. The sleep clears from my eyes and the haze dissipates just as the scream is cut short, leaving dead silence in the air.

My feet move before my mind does, one hand flying to the dagger at my side and the other to Derrín’s shoulder. It is the same feeling I felt when I ran towards Rowan instead of safety the first night we met. The sense of duty that runs deeper than lessons with Eida and blood. The feeling that broke my heart when I turned my back to it and tried to run.

Derrín is half conscious and still blinking sleep from his eyes when I take off towards the sound—towards the people and potential Kijova. He kicks some dirt over the fire and takes off after me.

The screams came from the woods surrounding us and I follow it blindly. I hardly notice the way the trees thicken until not even moonlight guides the way. I follow on instinct, even as Derrín trips blindly over roots and stones.

Then a clearing. A clearing up ahead. I rush forward when a hand grasps my elbow.

“Vera. Be very quiet.”

Derrín’s voice breaks the fog and I crouch down behind a bush beside him. I blink and my vision clears. In the distance, I can see a streak of red and white.

The Bone Wood.

But before the wood is something much more monstrous than rumors meant to scare armies. There are bodies, or rather,partsof bodies strewn across the clearing. Silver, gold, red. The blood paints the grass, the spray range so vast that some runs off the trees beside us in rivulets. I flick my gaze towards the low growling sound and lace my fingers around the hilt of my dagger.

Shit.

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