Page 35 of Oracle of Ruin

It is no secret that Mavis’s magic powers the entire compound. She keeps the warmth within the caves despite the biting cold, and I suspect she has been the reason I sleep through the night now.

Ever since I arrived in Mavis’s compound, my nights have been dreamless. No night terrors or faces haunt my unconsciousness, despite the new terrors I’ve faced. I would like to think that despite how perverse my mind has become, the action of being dragged naked through the woods by kidnappers would be considered traumatizing, not relaxing enough to cease my nightmares.

“She’s fine. Just tending to someone right now.”

“Someone?” Not something. Someone.

Neris stiffens. “Emi was injured in the kitchens. Mavis is just making sure her injuries aren’t too severe.” Then she adds hastily, “We look out for each other here.”

My eyes narrow at that final word.Here. Her tone is clipped as she says it and I don’t miss the obvious verbal dagger she flings my way. The insinuation that Rowan and the Nightwalkers don’t care for their own.

“So do we.” I lift my chin, my eyes narrowing and my hand stilling on the sweater I’ve pulled over my head.

Neris holds my stare and a flicker of sorrow tightens the lines around her mouth. She can’t be more than a few years older than I am, and yet she looks like she has seen lifetimes. Her mahogany brown hair is pulled back into a tight braid, similar and yet so different from the one Amír favors. Amír’s frames her angular face, adding an alluring sense of danger to her beauty. Neris’s hides her beauty, something that both ages her and creates a sharper fear. Instinctually, my stomach roils as we continue our stare-down, but the general drops her gaze first.

“Ask Emi about that then.” I half expect her to stop, but she turns her face back to mine after a second of consideration. “They’re not good people. Sorry to break that to you. Ever stop to consider how they gained their notoriety? It wasn’t by holding hands and keeping promises.”

My lips peel back in a snarl. “Stop.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard the cautionary tales. The assassin no one can hear coming until your throat is slit? The tales of the red road the day their gunslinger was born? The innocents that were murdered in her slaughter?” The soldier laughs mirthlessly. “They teach children to fear the Noiteron’s call for a reason. They don’t warn us to stay inside after dark for fear of hidden monsters. No, it’s the ones that walk among us and wear a pretty face. Be sure to ask your lover about my leg the next time you see him too. See if he remembers.”

A sick tugging at my heart tells me to ignore her bitter words, but they’re so raw from someone usually so composed… I find my gaze trailing down towards the foot that bears the least weight. Her pant leg has snagged on my bedpost, pulling the fabric away from a shiny metal leg. My breath hitches in my throat as I try to tear my gaze away, but find that I can’t.

Neris doesn’t balk or move to cover the appendage. Instead, something like pity flickers across her features. Her warm eyes bore holes in my face before I’m reminded to breathe again and greedily inhale the stale cavern air. Gooseflesh prickles along my arms and raises my hair. I know it is not from the chill inhabiting the compound.

Her hand reaches forward and ruffles my already mused hair. “You’re loyal, that’s a good trait to have. It’s just a little misplaced right now. Finish getting dressed. I’ll meet you outside.”

I pull my remaining clothes on and my lips part to remind her I cannot go anywhere without someone else opening the door, but I stop myself. My outstretched fingers inch towards the door where it sits, shut after her departure. I wince prematurely and wrap my hand around the cool metal. It doesn’t burn. I risk twisting the knob slightly. The door clicks and snicks open, baring the empty hallway to me.Nearlyempty hallway.

Mavis crosses her arms over her chest with a knowing smirk. Neris leans against the wall beside her, too deeply engrossed in their conversation to notice my arrival. Or so it would appear. The general has keen senses and I know she knew the moment I laced my fingers around the doorknob.

Mavis wears her hair tightly woven to her scalp, small and intricate braids creating a pattern resembling that of a crown. Her skin is paler than her usual bronze tan, drawing out the severity of her two-toned gaze. Her emerald eye slides in my direction, freezing me in my spot. She raises a well-manicured brow as if to ask,well, what are you waiting for?“Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, not all of us wake up perfect,” I bristle under my breath, low enough that she shouldn’t be able to hear it.

The mercenary queen’s knowing look tells me she did.

Neris shoulders a large pack, her gaze never leaving Mavis’s face. Her intense features soften to better match her personality. Something new flutters within my chest. She looks at Mavis like she hung the moon then gave her the stars.

I trail behind the both of them, feeling oddly upset and left out. I shake my head. I should have no desire to take any part in their twisted world. This trip is only to serve their wants. I have no choice in the matter.

The opening of the cave stands before us in mere moments. I hadn’t had much time to look around as I was dragged in here, naked and bleeding, by Argon, may the gods damn his soul. The opening is guarded by a multitude of soldiers, dressed the same as Neris, though notably less well decorated. They bow deeply at the waist, their chests near brushing their knees as they do so. Some sit atop a large pillar that resembles the guard towers we used to have at the palace, before it crumbled and took those towers with it.

Large tapestries loom on either side of the entrance. Those, I am sure I have not seen yet. My neck cracks as I crane it to admire every stitch, the bold colors reflecting in the bright torchlight. Raon and Deun. Night and Day.

Usually, portraits and tapestries portray Raonkin with dark and muted hues, with no care made to provide her a face of beauty. Gilded colors, jewel tones, and other forms of glory are saved only for Deungrid—anything else would be considered blasphemy.

Yet this artist thought differently. Deungrid is portrayed as he usually is—intense and commanding, haloed by golds and reds. But Raonkin… Her usually stern face is soft and lovely, those hollow cheeks filled in and her scarred hands soft. Bright colors explode behind her, silvers, purples, blues, and the occasional tinge of pink. She smiles with her eyes closed, serene and caring. The tapestry portrays darkness as a comfortable blanket that covers all the world’s hurt. Light illuminates, but darkness covers. Both serve their purpose and balance each other out.

“We don’t worship either god over the other here,” Emi sneers, suddenly appearing beside me.

My year of schooling my reflexes with Rowan is the only thing that stops me from knocking her out. “That feels like a pointed remark.”

“Good,” is all she says before stalking to stand beside Mavis and her general. No sign of injury on her body. I suppose it wasn’t too serious after all.

I trail closely behind as Mavis raises a single hand. The sound of metal grinding on stones booms through the cavernous room, popping my eardrums and causing me to bite my cheek. Mavis doesn’t flinch as the gates are raised, her soldiers saluting as we exit. Neris offers some command and a clap on the shoulder to one of them as she exits, and the blood bond tugs me forward silently, crawling under my skin when I dare to lag behind.

The cold stings my cheeks and brings tears to my eyes the moment I step outside. Winter has fully arrived in Krycolis, its biting caress tracing every inch of exposed skin. Neris extends a cloak my way that I gratefully slip over my shoulders. I burrow my face in the fur-lined hood, watching fascinated as tiny snowflakes and bits of ice stick to the fur.

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