Page 125 of The Shadowed Oracle
Ingrid couldn’t look, couldn’t bring herself to accept it.
On their knees, in front of the bastard prince and the usurper queen, was Dean, Raidinn, and Callinora. Their mouths, legs, and arms were tied up tightly. Their complexions were utterly bloodless, eyes closed.
They’d been hexed, spellbound or poisoned. Ingrid didn’t know. She racked her brain for an answer, but she couldn’t find one. It didn’t make sense. She couldn’t connect how Callinora had gotten there. How she’d not only been kidnapped, but transported there so quickly.
They must’ve known. Sylan must’ve known all along. Maybe that dream of him visiting her in her room…
Maybe this had all been a trap.
Maybe they never stood a chance.
Maybe she’d been leading her friends to their deaths since the very first moment they’d met.
Like an ear-shattering echo, the confusion decimated her world all at once.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
No,there was one thing. She knew sheneeded it to stop. She’d never needed anything as badly as she needed this. To free them. To kill the two Viator before her, standing in her way. She needed to fix this. Needed to end this. She needed her power to show itself. If not now, then never.
She clenched her fists, focused her mind, summoning every ounce of raw hatred, anger and desire inside her, willing it to be unleashed on her enemies. She thought of Izadora. She thought of Karis. She thought of all the Oracles that came before. The ones that were wrongfully hunted and taken down for the power they had no choice in possessing.
She begged them to help. Plead with the specter of them to awaken from their slumber. Come back to the world of the living for just a moment, and show her the way. Ingrid called to them, dug deep within her, pricking her nails into her palms.
But nothing happened.
She didn’t even know where to start.
“Interesting,” Enitha mused, turning to the soldiers above them. “The girl thinks she can wield so easily?” She cackled under her breath, yet hidden in that arrogance was a clear tinge of uncertainty.
She turned to the bastard prince beside her. “You trust the reports, yes? The Oracle hasn’t realized her power yet, has she?”
Sylan only shook his head, never breaking his glare at Ingrid. It felt as if he was shooting his gazethrough her, knifing into hervery being, her soul, her mind. Because he knew. He knew what she was.
And now Enitha knew, too. Maradenn had sent word. After all the work Callinora had put in, keeping the arrival of the world-walkers a secret, unknowingly hiding Ingrid’s true identity from Makkar… it was all for nothing.
Enitha knew since they’d arrived.
The rage in Ingrid became a blinding light, wordless and bestial, doubting if her magic would ever surface at all. What was this rare and marvelous gift anyway, if it couldn’t show itself in a situation like this?
She would have to unleash her vengeance in another way. She’d have to fight. Shewouldfight. Turning to Veston, she whispered, “Can you distract those archers?”
“Easy.”
“I’ll take Sylan.” Tyla’s voice was a dry rasp.
“Good. Enitha is mine,” Ingrid confirmed.
“On your command, Veston.”
The three of them were deathly still.
Ingrid’s senses sharpened, feeling every pump of her heart.
“Do speak up!” Enitha barked. “We wouldn’t want any unnecessary bloodshed now, would we?” She smiled wickedly, almost willing them to attack. “Not without an audience, at least. That would be a terrible waste. Don’t you agree?”
