Page 134 of The Oracle of Dusk

“He can be kind in a way few are capable. Protective. Selfless when it counts. He chose his own death over my suffering. If that doesn’t prove he’s a man of honour, then nothing else will.”

Epicasta’s brows rose in bewilderment.

“Merciful Triad, the sex must be transcendent,” she said, sipping her tea. Aurora choked on her next breath, heat creeping up her neck. Epicasta’s eyes widened in shock. “Wait, don’t tell me you’ve never…that you feel all this and he hasn’t even…” Aurora felt her face sizzling the more wide-eyed the princess became. Goddesses, why couldn’t she just crawl under a rock and perish? “Triad’s tits, I think we need something stronger,” Epicasta muttered.

Epicasta left to rummage around in the vanity by the window. She opened a drawer and took out a bottle. The princess returned, downed her tea in an unladylike fashion and then filled their cups with a brew whose bouquet was certain to reach the guards posted outside the door.

It smelled like something that could strip paint and melt metal. Even a single sip had Aurora wheezing as it set fire to her tongue and burned down her throat.

“What is…oh goddesses…” Aurora coughed, fanning her face to beat back the tears the brew had brought to her eyes.

Epicasta sipped it as if it were no more offensive than a rich, smooth wine.

“A princess’ best friend. I’ve been saving this bottle for a special occasion worthy of being completely obliterated from my memory. I think today merits it.”

Aurora had barely managed a few more sips when the guards opened the doors of the bridal chamber and Queen Flora strode inside in a gown of dazzling green and silver.

“What is that stench?” The queen strode over and confiscated the bottle. “Really, Epicasta? Drinking? This is your fourth marriage. What’s there to be nervous about?”

Aurora wished she could blend into the friezes as Epicasta wiped every emotion from her face and set her teacup aside.

“Nothing, Your Majesty. But the oracle was nervous about the proceedings. She’s never been a part of this kind of marriage ritual before.”

Aurora only had a split second to glare at Epicasta. The last thing she wanted was the queen’s attention focused on her.

“Oh? Well, it’s quite invigorating. Drink up and be merry, Aurora. Who knows, you might even find yourself swept off your feet. Passion has blessed this day, after all.”

Aurora pretended to choke down as much of the liquid as she could while under the calculating gaze of the queen. When she set it aside, the queen nodded. If Flora wanted her drunk, then it would be unwise to let her guard down. It seemed she would have to spend the rest of this miserable day distressingly sober.

“The ritual will begin momentarily. It’s time for you two to join the bridal warriors.”

The queen ushered them from the room and down the maze of corridors leading to the front entrance of the palace. Epicasta was helped into a palanquin of emerald and gold, the gauzy green drapes pulled to the side so that all could witness her coming. She pulled the veil down over her crowned head as Aurora was instructed to do the same. The world took on a red haze.

As they walked through the city, jubilant cries met them from all corners. The citizens were dressed in their finest clothes, wearing crowns made of flowers. The cobbles under their feet were made precarious by the thick layer of petals as the people showered them with fragrant, colourful blooms wherever they went.

It was a mockery—every last smile, every last hearty congratulation. Aurora looked up to where Epicasta was seated, a tight, unfeeling smile on the princess’ face as she waved at her people. Aurora couldn’t even muster a mask, preferring to hide her face behind the walking stick she carried, the tinkling of its beads and feathers drowned out by the gaiety of the crowd. As they paraded around the city districts, the sun beat down mercilessly on her back, the veil trapping the heat of her breath close to her sweat-slicked skin.

Unpleasant as it was, Aurora wished it would never end. Because the moment it did, she would be forced to watch Theron abduct Epicasta from her palanquin. Every breath she took as they neared the palace district once more brought an insistent ache in her chest. Every step she took was one where she was forced to crush her own shattered heart beneath her feet. She wanted to scream, to weep, to tear at her hair. This wasn’t a bridal party, it was a funeral procession, and her heart had been laid out for the pyre.

“Protect the bride!”

The words pumped dread through her veins.

The crowd rejoiced, a deafening cacophony. The groom’s warriors with their staffs, in their red pleated kilts, bare chests and ugly masks, converged on the bridal party. The other bridal warriors faced off against them, putting on a show as the crowd ebbed and flowed around them.

Aurora recognised Theron despite his fearsome, horned mask. His golden staff glinted in the noontime sun, its rays catching the gold necklace, earrings, cuffs and belt he wore, making them blaze as if imbued with arcane power. He was glorious as he stood above the crowd, scanning the ritualized melee. Skin of glowing brown ochre, his crimson hair blowing in the breeze, his muscles oiled, he was everything she wanted and the only thing she couldn’t have. As he approached the melee, his steps like those of a predator, her heart broke over and over. She wanted to double over and curl in on herself. Yet she was forced to stand and partake in this farce. Tears blurred her vision as she played her miserable part. She didn’t see the man who absconded with her and didn’t resist either.

As she was picked up and carried off, she closed her eyes, her heart racing. Faster and faster it beat. She would have to watch him stand at another woman’s side and abandon her hope. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. Heart racing, Aurora couldn’t catch her breath, her chest caught in a vise. She gripped the material of her gown, struggling to take a deep breath, her body shaking. Her captor increased his pace, seeming to sense her distress. He lifted her veil but Aurora refused to open her eyes. If she did, she would break and break until she was nothing but splinters.

“Aurora, breathe. Just breathe.”

She opened her eyes with a gasp.

Theron.

He’d removed his mask, his golden eyes swimming with concern as he held her. His magic washed over her, a comforting cocoon.

“I have you, my fairy. Just breathe. That’s right.”

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