Page 56 of The Oracle of Dusk

Agony radiated up from his palm. On the back of his hand, a glittering, diamond-like mark appeared. The mark of Justice’s displeasure—of his divine punishment.

Had that abyss and ensuing madness been Justice’s wrath? Her punishment? If so, it was fitting. For now he would have to slaughter all of the witnesses in order to return home. He looked back to his warriors. They were willing to fight to the death for him, but not court a goddess’ wrath, for Hyllus would also need to be slain. Under the laws that governed Trisia, he would have to plead for peace…to Queen Flora. He would also need to be cleansed by a high priestess, and the only one where he was about to be sent was that bitch Orithyia.

“By the laws of Trisia, you must travel to the Viridian capital to make restitution, or declare that you have begun a war unprovoked,” King Enalos sighed.

Only a few Viridian soldiers remained, all eyeing him like he’d become a monstrosity. Perhaps he had.

“Put the Aurean king in chains!” Stentor ordered. “We bring the monstrosity-cursed blasphemer to the capital!”

There was no fighting his way out of this. No scheming that could save him. Unless he wished to stain his own honour, to become an outlaw king, he had no choice but to submit to his most rapacious enemies. Justice had seen him punished. He would never reclaim his throne until he was purified. He wouldn’t even have the chance if Flora simply killed him before that. Theron only prayed Justice’s anger was satisfied.

Theron allowed the Viridian dogs to bind his arms.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” Enalos said.

Theron shook his head. The fault was his. But if his fate was to be made into Queen Flora’s plaything, then he would not go meekly. He stood as tall as his binding allowed and turned to his soldiers.

“Send word to my cousin that I courted Justice’s wrath and paid the price, and that if I do not return, she will become Queen of Aureum. Let my will be witnessed by King Enalos of Niveum.” Theron turned to Enalos, raising his chin.

Enalos smiled, stroking a salt-and-pepper beard.

“I, King Enalos of Niveum, hereby witness King Theron’s will. May the Triad have mercy on you.”

With that, he was dragged off to the only cart that remained intact after the attack and shoved inside. Whether his captors would kill him before he reached Boreas was anyone’s guess.

Chapter 12

Aurorasatintheatrium of the guest palace, her face turned up towards the sun, eyes closed against the brilliant light…and the unpleasant reality that had become her life. Her ears twitched as distant giggles echoed behind her. She gripped the artefact in her hands and froze, waiting to find out if she would go unmolested. The next laugh came from further away. Aurora released a pent-up breath, her head leaning against the marble column at her back. The last few weeks had been their own kind of torture.

The guest palace was a prison and she was its newest curiosity.

The doors remained unlocked, the windows open and airy, but no one who entered this place of beautiful marble columns, mosaic floors, sumptuous décor, sparkling fish ponds and lush gardens ever left. This was where Queen Flora housed the sons and daughters of vassals whose loyalty was in question. It was where the last heirs of fallen territories mouldered away, forgotten. It was where, she knew, the kings and queens who fought against the future Viridian empire would spend their final days. In the future, it would become Phaedra’s palace. It was now Aurora’s cage.

She felt like nothing so much as an exotic animal on display for her fellow prisoners and the curious nobles of the Viridian court. The vivarium, the people here called it. It was not far off the mark. Here was where Flora displayed her trophies of flesh and blood. That the people here lived at all was a testament to their monarch’s supposed magnanimity.

Most had thought her a damaged child when she’d arrived, covered in bandages and splints, and so had left her alone with her pain. But as the swelling went down and some of the bandages came off, they’d realised she was a woman grown, despite her short stature. They heaped their humiliations on her day and night, from forcing her into children’s clothes to tossing her about despite her injuries, to making it nearly impossible to bathe in the shared baths without constant, unrelenting scrutiny. It could have been worse. The guards and attendants regularly withheld necessities unless sexually gratified—a fate she’d managed to avoid thus far.

She’d foolishly hoped that her stay would be a temporary one, until she’d been woken on her second night in this prison by a priestess of Knowledge. Robed in deep black, the woman had tossed the artefact at Aurora and told her that it was but an ancient calendar, not a magical device for time travel. After that, the medic stopped coming to tend to her wounds. A letter arrived a few days later informing her that if her information proved to be false, she would suffer appropriate punishment for lying twice to the high priestess.

Aurora had lived in a constant state of fear since.

Initially, she’d been elated to find herself somewhere familiar even if it made her heart ache with memories of her friend. She’d thought she’d understood what this place was in the ancient past and had been enchanted by the sumptuous décor, excited to think she would be the first of her age to glimpse it. But that feeling of coming home and the thrill of discovery soon soured when the true nature of this wretched place became clear. Terrified that the history books had been wrong, she’d walked every inch of the guest palace, looking for a way out. Knowing it was Phaedra’s palace had given her the clues she needed to plan an escape. Even though much had changed over the millennia, just as it was at the temple of Knowledge, some hidden paths had survived unchanged. But she couldn’t leave until she was fully healed. And so she endured as best she could.

Aurora turned the artefact—calendar—over in her hands. The rings no longer moved around it, having been too badly damaged, and were quite immune to her attempts to fix them. But as she’d had nothing else to distract her, she’d begun deciphering the symbols along the rings. Now that she knew what it was, she could see the numbers for hours, days, months, and years. On the outermost rings, she was certain the symbols represented constellations. They’d called it naught but a calendar, but her magic had drawn her to it. It no longer held whatever internal force had compelled her, but it couldn’t just be a simple calendar. If she could fix it, maybe she could travel in time again.

Where would she even go?

A stampede of footsteps jolted her out of her thoughts. She stuffed the artefact into her small shoulder satchel and ducked between the column and greenery, manoeuvring her splinted leg with some difficulty. She curled up as best she could, making herself as small as possible under the foliage. Her hiding place had proved itself many times now. She got as comfortable as she could and listened.

“There’s a new arrival!”

“The guards said it was a king. And that he’d been cursed by monstrosities.”

Monstrosities? Then the first had appeared! Aurora’s heart sank. Orithyia would have known, and if so, then she’d allowed Aurora to rot in this prison in spite of the information she’d provided.

“Would Flora actually keep him alive?”

“She’d better, unless she wants a war.”

---