Page 100 of The Oracle of Dusk

“You were warned,” Theron growled.

Guards rushed to drag the dead guard from the guest palace while others held shaking swords trained towards him. He let loose another blast of magic at the remaining guards.

“Who else wishes to test their luck against my magic?”

They looked to each other and lowered their blades. Some snuck glances at her. Theron snarled.

“Anyone who so much as looks at her gets their eyes gouged out! Now get out!”

They retreated from the guest palace and locked the doors behind them.

“Aurora? Are you hurt?” he asked as he struggled to his feet, his arms still bound behind him.

“A few cuts…” she replied, her voice hollow.

He let his magic wash over her, healing the hurts of her flesh. But the terror he saw in her eyes could not be so easily treated. Theron walked toward her and turned around.

“Can you untie these knots?” he asked.

“Mmm,” she replied.

He could feel her hands trembling as she worked the knots loose. Soon he was free.

“I’ll get something to cover you.”

“Wait!” she grabbed at his tunic. “Please don’t leave me. What if they come back?”

He looked over his shoulder at her, refusing to turn around completely. He could spare her that indignity at least.

“They won’t come back yet. Be brave, just for a few more moments.”

She released a shaky breath and let go of his tunic. He raced to his room, grabbed a thick blanket and returned, keeping his gaze on hers as he returned and fashioned as best an outfit as he could with her chains.

“Can you take this off?”

He inspected the collar and manacles.

“No. It requires a key.”

“They were going to…” she trailed off.

“And the ones who tried are dead. Between the two of us, no one will ever hurt you in that way.”

She crumpled into a puddle of tears. Theron held her as the sun dipped down and the moon rose, until her tears had given way to exhaustion. In the dead of night, a guard roused him from a fitful sleep with her in his arms. Theron might have resorted to violence but for the very visible red scarf tied around the man’s neck.

“Your Majesty, the guards are refusing to patrol inside the guest palace, but that might change soon. I have a report. Each unlucky groom of Princess Epicasta met with Queen Flora before official engagements were announced. Once they left the meetings, they were all reported to have become resigned to their fates. Flora then went about her usual schedules and appearances. Curiously, every time one of the husbands appeared in public, Flora was present. We tracked down a former nanny of the queen’s who requested asylum for her information. She was taken to a safe house and said that the queen’s wild magic was that of a soul swapper.”

The blood drained from his face.

Epicasta had been speaking truth. Except that the foul magic belonged to her mother. But as a soul swapper, Flora couldn’t take over the bodies of others herself, merely insert another soul inside for a short time. Had his parents known of the danger back then, that she could more than paralyse with her magic, they would have surely killed her. Had this power been why she’d been able to slay so many in her campaign? After all, she needn’t put another soul into a body that she’d violated with her magic. A body left empty, even for a moment, was long enough for any half-decent warrior with a blade to dispose of. A shiver ran down his spine.

Had she exhausted herself on the battlefield all those years ago? Was that why she hadn’t violated the royal family? What had they done with the unwilling husbands in the times between, when her magic was spent? Who would have volunteered their soul in Flora’s plan?

“Find out how long she needs to recover between uses of her magic. And the distance over which she can work it. Find out everything you can. Be especially alert to times when those husbands were either unable to use their wild magic, or used one they hadn’t awakened.”

Epicasta would’ve only been wed to some of the most powerful families, and anyone with the kind of sway to threaten Flora would have wild magic of their own. Their magic would be well-known. Whereas a new soul would possess different magic altogether if they possessed it at all.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

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