Page 102 of The Oracle of Dusk

“I won’t leave you alone with any of them. No one here will touch you,” he promised.

As the guards and attendants dragged them all to the baths, the guards stood outside, facing inside, leering at their charges as they were forced to strip. Aurora began shaking once more.

Theron stepped into one of the corners where attendants waited with buckets to douse them. He glared every man into retreat.

“I’ll shield you,” he reassured her, pulling her close. “I’m going to unwrap this sheet, alright?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“My brave little fairy.”

“I don’t feel brave,” she whispered, her breath hitching as the sheet came loose.

“And yet you’re standing here with me in this den of vipers. Do you wish to ready yourself, or will you allow them near you?”

She ran a hand through her messy locks, looking around at the attendants near them. Her shoulders dropped a fraction when she saw only women.

“I’ll allow them to help.”

“If they touch you in any way you don’t want, you tell me.”

She nodded.

He snapped his fingers and brought two attendants over, commanding them to hold up the sheet so that the guards at the entrance were denied a view. Theron covered her as best he could, always putting his own body in the way of any extra set of eyes that could be avoided. All the while, his gaze never strayed from hers. As the attendants moved to do their work, he watched her for any sign of distress at their touch.

In focusing himself entirely on her, he could dull the sharpest edge of his own terror. But in every sluice of water against his skin, in every slide of a comb through his hair, in every hesitant touch of a frightened attendant, that terror shredded more of his reserve. Nothing could stop what was coming. If he fled now, he’d merely be dragged back. If he used every last ounce of his power to cripple the guards, more would come, and then he’d be without even the slimmest hope of surviving the lethal blow, of healing himself.

Theron was going to die.

When they were brought back to their chambers to be dressed and ornamented, he insisted Aurora join him in his room. If he gave himself even a moment alone, he feared he would lose his nerve. He needed the reminder of why he was meant to die—of why his thread would be cut short. Aureum must have its oracle, and her beast must be destroyed.

Aurora donned the insulting attire, covering herself as best she could, shamed and scared. Given only the barest of coverings and ordered to allow himself to be painted, Theron took comfort in the fact that another of his spies was among the attendants. Aurora’s attire pooled around her, and so his spy pulled out a sash of fabric to cinch the dress at her small waist. The attendant caught his eye as she slipped Aurora’s pendant shield into the knot.

It was only once the same attendant stuck his own ancient artefact into the braid of his hair that he felt a surge of resentment. Why should he die? And in the home of his most hated enemy? He ground his teeth. At least he would go down fighting. There was some small measure of comfort in that. As the paint dried on his skin and he was covered in emerald jewellery, Aurora’s face was painted in the thick, gaudy style of a prostitute. Then they were given a small meal. His last, he supposed. A pity it was so paltry.

“We could still flee,” Aurora whispered as they were left alone in their room.

“They’ve strengthened security,” he said, nodding to the scene beyond the terrace. Outside, royal guards patrolled every inch of the grounds. Five stood outside his door alone.

“Just before it happens, we could find some excuse not to be in the room.”

“I won’t be allowed to leave. But you should, just before it happens.”

“We could warn them when the queen arrives, we could warn all the nobles too. There’s still time.”

“Aurora…” he said, placing his hand on her cheek.

She leaned into it as tears filled her eyes. She knew as well as he that no one would listen. There would be no warning them. Her vision had made it clear they’d tried everything and failed, that no one with the power to prevent the massacre had bothered to listen.

“I can’t give up! We’re still alive! We still have time to change the future!”

A guard barged in.

“Princess Epicasta has called you, Your Majesty.”

Aurora grabbed his arm, frozen in fear. He put a hand over hers and squeezed.

“Anyone who touches you will die.”

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