Page 157 of The Shadowed Oracle
All able bodies swarmed around the room, tossing over drawers and cabinets, the mayhem scored by the princess’s deathly shrieks.
Finally, Dean snatched up the pestle he’d forgotten he brought to the room for grinding up herbs, handed it to Lucilla, then pinned one of Callinnora’s arms down. Ingrid grabbed the other, while Tyla gingerly unlocked her jaw until the wooden utensil was firmly in Callinora’s teeth.
“Good, good,” Lucilla said soothingly. She looked up at the others. “Hold her like this until she stops.”
They kept their hold on the princess as she moaned and bucked and cried and twisted. The sounds became less and less natural as she went on. Devolving into a guttural, beastly thrum of outright agony.
Tears streamed down Ingrid’s face as she watched it. This second undoing of her friend in only a day, seeing firsthand how such immense power could be abused, it was unbearable. Callinora was so steadfast, so stable and unfaltering and resolute as she lived through the pain of her broken marriage bond. Day after day, she survived. And, Ingrid thought with a teary smirk, she was an ice-cold bitch when she needed to be.
But now all that was gone.
She’d been reduced to a husk of her former glory. A ruinous vessel controlled by a sadistic and unfeeling foe.
“She’s calming,” Lucilla said brightly, swiping the back of her hand over Callinora’s forehead to remove the sweat. “Good, that’s very good.”
Callinora’s arms and legs were limp. Only her chest heaved every few seconds, Enitha’s spell nowhere in sight. It was almost a miracle she’d healed from the burns after the Hydra had been cast away, a testament to Viator’s regeneration, but this? Whatever part of the curse that lingered, it felt as if it had only slithered back into the princess, hiding, waiting.
“It will happen again,” Ingrid said. “I can feel it. The binding magic, it’s still in there. We have to tie her down.”
Veston stepped forward, voice trembling. “What do you mean? Shackle her again? Imprison her?”
“No.” Tyla whispered the words like she was worried they were going to wake Callinora. “I’ll use the sheets from my bed, so she doesn’t hurt herself.”
Lucilla nodded. “And we will find a less cumbersome guard for her mouth. There must be something on this ship.” Her smile beamed across the room at Veston, both assuring and sympathetic. “Could you ask the captain? I’ll look down here, too.”
“Of course.” Veston stumbled off in a hurry.
With the general’s absence, the four world-walkers now looked to each other quizzically, waiting for someone to start the conversation that needed to be had.
The floorboards creaked as Raidinn moved to a squat. “Are we going to talk about what she said?” he asked, voice low. “She called Ingrid a thief. Just like Enitha did. The same words. Same demonic voice, even. At least, that’s how I heard it.” He panned from Dean to his sister, to Ingrid, then he brought his gaze down hesitantly on Callinora. “She can see us. Enitha, the goddamn bloody Magus Queen can see us—right now. Doesn’t that concern you?”
“Of course it concerns me,” Tyla snapped. “But what can we do about it?”
“You don’t mean to—” Lucilla rustled, unable to say the word.
“No,” Raidinn said too quickly. “I mean, I don’t know. I think the conversation should be had though. When Arryn and Veston aren’t here, we need to talk about what to do with her.” He shook his head, reconsidering. “What do you think, Dean? Awfully quiet over there.”
Dean started, eyes flashing with an idea. He’d likely been considering what to do with the Princess since he’d first beheld the binding marks on her.
But in this instance, he closed his lips tightly.
The developments of that day were scrambled, yet one thing was certain. With her power growing, her visions coming to her more frequently, Dean would be deferring to Ingrid from then on. Her sight, as Karis had followed his own visions, would shepherd them.
“Ingrid?” He looked to her. “What should we do?”
The question hung there in the room, filling the air with all that it implied. The twins looked to Ingrid, expectantly, hopefully. Then Lucilla followed, flashing an allegiant glance, waiting for her command.
And so Ingrid considered. It would be a risk keeping Callinora close. Without knowing the extent of Enitha’s hold over her, it was a risk even keeping her on that boat. But until proven otherwise, Callinora was in there too, somewhere. She was still the princess who’d helped her, sheltered her, and as a consequence, she was tortured and punished for her kindness, sold out by her own people.
She was one of the few allies Ingrid had. One of the few friends. And to start this road to rebellion with turning her back on one of those friends… it wasn’t in her. Wasn’t who she was.
Ingrid stood, keeping her glare fastened to Callinora’s limp body.
With two fluent swipes of her finger, she removed the false masks covering her fiery irises, revealing her true eyes, her Oracle eyes, and said, “Let that bitch watch.”
Chapter Forty-Six
By the timeIngrid returned to her room, her exhaustion had turned to restlessness, sitting up in her bed and rolling her father’s viseer stone in her hands. She peered into it every few minutes, hoping to see that glint of power still in there. It was the only thing she had remaining of her father, and she dreaded the thought of his stored magic vanishing before she’d even known it was in there.
