Page 61 of The Oracle of Dusk

The other possibility was that one of Batea’s monsters had escaped, causing devastation abroad. After all, unlike the people of Trisia, beasts didn’t depend on the protection of the Divine Triad. Outside the borders of Trisia, any Trisian would be at the mercy of foreign deities and the whims of fate, cut off from the beneficial influence of the Triad. If the little fairy had been driven here by a need for vengeance, then she had forsaken the protection of her own deities to do it. That made her either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.

Foolish, most like. He’d seen her injuries with his magic, both current and past. She’d been subjected to horrific violence, and yet was ready to face more.

In either case, his curiosity was piqued. Not only did she present an entertaining mystery, she was the first halfway civilised person he’d met since he’d stepped onto cursed Viridian soil. No surprise, since she was not of this queendom. And if her reaction to his body was any indication, she might be persuaded to entertain him in other ways.

He washed the last bit of grime from his hair and made his way towards the entrance, determined to find his little fairy and uncover her secrets.

Only to be stopped by a veritable hoard of nobles.

Leeringnobles.

Theron wrapped himself in a towel and gave them his best scowl. Usually, that was enough to cow even the most impertinent of pests, but this lot were either immune to it or simply enjoyed courting death.

“I told you he was going to be a handsome one.”

“Look at those muscles.”

“I never thought I’d be jealous of a water droplet, but the world is a strange, beautiful place.”

“Do you know how to pleasure a woman, Your Majesty?”

“Or a man?”

“We’ve all been betting on whether you’re a show pony or a proper stallion.”

These people had no fear, no dignity, no honour. It was a shame he had more important things to be doing, because it might have helped let off a little steam had he the time to thoroughly teach them proper respect.

He unleashed a wave of his magic, pouring through the wretched lot before him, letting it trickle through their sinew and bone, ferreting out their painful pasts. And with a great and terrible pull, he fractured them along their weakest points, their mended wounds reopened, their healed bones rebroken, their greatest physical pains retold in a symphony of agonized screams.

“I am Theron, king of Aureum, and it would do you well to engrave that on your withered hearts. I will not tolerate such disrespect a second time. Now, point me to my quarters,” he demanded as he strode towards the moaning, sobbing heap. One of the women pointed a trembling finger in the direction his fairy had gone. She’d mentioned they were a cruel lot. Best nip that in the bud. “And another thing. The little fairy woman? She’s mine now, and I don’t share.”

He marched down the hall with more confidence than he felt in naught but a towel. Unease slithered through him. Losing his mind to a goddess’ wrath had shaken him, her mark a dark reminder of how easily he could be snuffed out, how powerless he was. His long, humiliating ride here had only compounded the fear, every time the Viridian’s eyes lit with glee forcing him to master his emotions to give them as little satisfaction as possible. He’d drowned himself in anger, in promises of vengeance, in dreams of their destruction. Theron might never be able to touch a goddess, but mortals were different. Yet as he stormed through the halls all but nude, his defences slipped.

Weak.

If the soldiers guarding this gilded cage took it upon themselves to get revenge for their recently one-eared friend, the beating would be deeply unpleasant. And he was under no illusions—Queen Flora had likely given the order to make his stay as unpleasant as possible. Every action he took to defend his honour would only compound the compensation she would demand. And that was before that bitch Orithyia had her chance to play with him. He needed proper allies, and so far, the only one in the running was a powerless foreign fairy whose name he didn’t know.

Just as pressing, he needed to get his seal ring back from that bastard Stentor. The general had stolen it on the way to Boreas. If she were cunning, Flora would draw up some ridiculous treaty promising Aureum’s enslavement to Viridis, sign it with his seal ring and present it to Batea as a fait accompli. Batea was much too stubborn to countenance such a thing, but it would all but guarantee a disastrous war.

An attendant walking the hallway eyed him warily and ushered him to his room. Good. A little fear would help keep these dogs in line. He was pleased to find that new clothes were laid out for him. Less pleasing was the low-quality fabric and the lack of trousers. He’d forgotten that the Viridians eschewed the practicality of trousers, preferring skirts and tunics.

Donning his new outfit, Theron walked to his terrace and scoped out the surrounding gardens below. It appeared, if not heavily guarded, then well maintained. Queen Flora was counting on political pressures to keep her prisoners in their plush cells. That, and the fact that the only obvious way out was through the front gate, one that was guarded day and night. Perhaps he should have been more concerned being the vivarium’s newest curiosity, but unlike the other wretches here, he was no mere lordling’s heir.

A knock on his door interrupted his perusal.

“Your lunch is prepared, Your Majesty.”

“You may enter.”

A servant entered, placed a platter of food on his minuscule dining table, bowed deeply and left. Theron looked over the offerings of lamb on the bone and smiled. This was why he wasn’t overly concerned. He scraped the meat off to read the message scrawled on the bone by another talented healer and Aurean spy.

Friends wear red.

He defaced the message as best he could with the silverware available to him and partook of the only decent meal he’d had since he’d been taken from Aureum. The succulent juices dripped down his chin. Merciful Triad, he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed freshly cooked food. When he was finished shovelling it into his mouth and wiping it off his face, he sat back in his seat. He would be sure to keep an eye out for guards, servants and attendants wearing something red. He needed that ring back as soon as possible.

Theron looked out at the view, sighing. When was the last time he’d had so little to do? No wonder the nobles here had gone mad. At least he had the fairy woman to entertain him until Flora set a date to drag him to her court and make outrageous demands.

As he watched the breeze rustle the petals of the neatly planted flowers, a flash of colour caught his eye in the bushes. The very top of a blonde head bobbed in and out of view.

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