Page 128 of The Shadowed Oracle
“They risked everything for me,” Ingrid said flatly. “The least I can do is be present at the end.” She craned her neck upward to meet Sylan’s puzzled eyes. “I won’t fight you. Whatever it is Makkar wants from me. If he wants my power. My allegiance. My death. If you let me stay with my friends, I will obey. Please.”
Sylan’s face was stone, golden eyes fixed on Ingrid’s, like he was trying to find something buried within.
“Swear to me.” Even the sea seemed to still, quieting so Sylan’s answer could be heard clearly. “Swear it,” he said again. “Swear your loyalty to me.”
Ingrid didn’t hesitate. “I swear.”
“Louder. So even your reposed friends can hear it.”
“I swear. I swear!” A sob worked its way from her stomach to the very center of her chest. And all at once, her anger, her fear,her hatred and her remaining hope came pouring out of her. “I swear my loyalty to you, Prince Sylan. You murderous, psychotic fucking bastard! I swear!”
“Good. Together then.” He held out his hand, waiting for Ingrid to take it.
And she did.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Herloyalty.She’d promised it so quickly that she hadn’t even considered the word. Hadn’t thought about what it meant here in Ealis, the very wind and soil all simmering and alive with magic. She didn’t know what she’d done. She couldn’t think about it, and was grateful she felt no change yet. She seemed to retain her free will as she, the prince, and three of the Occian archers made their way back to Enitha’s chambers.
On the second glance of the cluttered room, there was far more evidence of a struggle than Ingrid had first gleaned. More blood. More furniture kicked over. She’d been too anxious to fully absorb all the clues.
She shuddered at the thought of what more could’ve been done to avoid this. To see this coming. There had been signs, and she’d missed them.
A feeling, Arryn had said. Enitha had pushed their wedding date up to the same day already scheduled for audiences with the common people, due to a feeling. Ingrid should’ve known then. It was right in front of her. Something was off.
“Were you waiting?” She mumbled the question, not so much as angling in Sylan’s direction. “Did you have Callinora all this time?”
“Yes.” He said it hesitantly, hinting that there was more. “Though,” he added after a moment. “This was not how I envisioned our meeting.”
They’d just reached the door, standing at the threshold of the hall. She could feel him draw closer once she stopped, lumbering with long, swift strides.
“Should we shackle the prisoner?” one of the soldiers asked him. “This part of the castle can get dark.”
Sylan stepped forward, hovering his face mere inches from Ingrid, scanning her. “Should we?”
It took a moment for Ingrid to realize he was asking her. “I won’t run,” she said. “Just put me where you’re going to put me. Then leave me alone.”
“Prisoners don’t make requests,” another Occian soldier hissed. He stood front and center among the ranks, his bow hanging over his back now, hand on his hilt.
Sylan rounded to face him. “Do not forget yourself, soldier.” He made no effort to speak up. “She’s sworn to me now.”
The soldier fumbled for a response. “Yes, General. But if she were to cause any trouble, it would be youthat answered for?—”
“I’m aware of the law,” Sylan interjected calmly.
“Do you mean to stand guard outside her cell?” the first soldier asked.
Sylan seemed like he hadn’t thought about it at all. He darted his piercing eyes to Ingrid, waiting for her to return the look. “Do you think you’ll need a cell? Or will you be able to behave for one night?”
Ingrid stared up at the treacherous man for a moment, scanning for anything that might give away his intentions. It didn’t. All she saw was that hard face that looked to be sculpted from stone. His pitch-black hair was pushed back, tucked behind his ears, and for the first time, she noticed a small scar that ran vertically under the corner of his left eye.
It was an odd mark on an otherwise immaculate appearance. His Hydorian cloak made of black and purple thread was spotless, without wear or wrinkle, and the silver Hydra sigil pinned at his chest was sparkling clean, making the scar seem all the more out of place.
Sylan caught her examining it, smirked, and dragged a thumb over his brow. “Do you need me to ask again?”
“No.” Ingrid turned away.
“No, you won’t behave for one night? Or no, you don’t need a cell?”
