Page 30 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Thirty

Aurelia

W ith my hood pulled low, I wandered alone through the narrow, twisting streets of the city of Grey Oak. Soon enough, the quaint suburbs of Rydian’s neighborhood gave way to bustling downtown until I was once again swallowed up by it. I glanced up every so often to note the direction of the taller shops, adjusting my course as I continued to aim at them. It was farther than I remembered from my earlier escape. And without Rydian leading me, it was lonelier too.

The unfamiliarity of the city pressed in on me from all sides. The towering trees, their bronze bark twisted and gnarled, loomed overhead like silent sentinels. But I saw no castle guards roaming the city, looking for the lost princess. Rydian had been wrong.

Maybe Callan thought me dead.

The streets, winding and narrow, felt claustrophobic compared to the wide-open paths of Rosewood. The fae I passed kept their gazes down, their movements slow and deliberate. There was something in the air, an unease I couldn’t shake, and I was acutely aware of every step I took back to that gray castle on the hill.

The things Rydian had told me—about the fae tax and Callan’s hand in it—played on a loop in my thoughts and twisted in my gut. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when I knew I’d see the truth in his eyes the moment I confronted him about it. My breaths came in shorter bursts as I pictured that conversation. As I faced the situation I found myself in.

I’d yielded my kingdom to the Furiosities’ magic. My father’s magic. I’d locked my home without a key. And I’d unknowingly tied myself to a king whose atrocities were only overshadowed by Heliconia herself.

Even if I ran, there was nowhere I could hide forever. Heliconia’s reach spanned the continent. Maybe I could cross the sea to Alorica or ask for asylum among the Moriori, but neither of those were permanent solutions. Not if I wanted to truly break this curse or face Heliconia someday. Besides, if I left, Callan would marry her. And then there would be no stopping the dark queen.

As crazy as it sounded, I had to stop myself from turning around and going back to Rydian for help. But I forced myself to continue onward. Going back would change nothing. Rydian had made his choice clear. He might not plan to betray who and what I was to the king, but he certainly didn’t intend to help me escape him either.

My chest panged with emptiness. I’d never felt more alone.

I turned down a side street and tried to steady my breathing.

A voice, low and rough, broke through my thoughts. “Well, hello there. And aren’t you a powerfully magicked little thing?”

I froze mid-step, my heart lurching in my chest. The voice came from behind me, a fae male standing in the shadows of the narrow street .

His eyes gleamed as they roamed over me. “Pretty and powerful,” he added hungrily, and I realized with a jolt that I’d let my shield down enough that he’d sensed what slept inside me. He took a step forward, and a surge of panic rose in my throat.

“I… I’m just passing through,” I said quickly, forcing my voice to stay even as I began to edge away from him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Where are you from?” His gaze lingered on my cloak, and I could see the calculation in his perusal. “Not from Grey Oak, that’s for sure.”

“I’m visiting from the coast,” I lied.

“Where’d you get that mark?” He pointed at my neck.

I reached up and grabbed my hair, covering the tattoo. But too late.

“You have power in you, girl.” He sniffed. “More than the rest of us.” He looked jealous—and angry enough to do something about it.

He took a step toward me, and I threw my hands up. Black flames shot from my palms, igniting his boots. They melted, burning his feet. He screamed, and I stumbled back, looking around wildly for anyone who might have seen what I’d done.

“You have darkness in you,” the fae wailed.

He stomped the flames out, but I could see the blisters and burns on his flesh where his boots and socks had burned away.

“You will pay for that, bitch.”

Panic tightened in my chest, and without another word, I turned and hurried down the street. His footsteps echoed behind me, slow at first then quicker, matching my pace.

My heart raced as I rounded a corner and ducked into a narrow alley.

Ahead, a small, weathered shop sat tucked between two very rowdy pubs, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze. The symbol of an open eye was painted across the door—the oracle’s shop. At last .

I’d made a point to search it out on the city map I’d found in the library, but after the chaos of the day, I’d begun to doubt if I’d actually make it here before being tossed back under lock and key inside that drafty castle.

I darted inside, the bells above the door jingling softly as I pushed it closed behind me.

As if the shop were warded against it, the noise from the pubs and the street suddenly went quiet. I leaned against the door, hoping the strange male hadn’t seen me enter. Through the frosted window, I watched as he passed by and disappeared.

I exhaled and finally glanced at my surroundings.

The interior of the shop was dimly lit, the scent of incense heavy in the air. Shelves lined the walls, filled with strange trinkets, books and scrolls, and jars of herbs. Threads of magic, powerful and old, lingered in the dusty space.

“Running from something, are we?” a voice, soft and knowing, called from the back of the shop.

I turned as an aging fae emerged from the shadows. Her long, silver hair was braided down her back, and her bright blue eyes gleamed with an awareness that made my skin prickle. She wore a cloak of deep purple, the edges embroidered with shimmering runes that seemed to shift in the lantern light.

“No, I—” I swallowed, trying to catch my breath. “Apologies, I needed a place to… think.”

The oracle’s lips curved into a faint smile as she tilted her head, studying me. “Think… or hide?”

I didn’t answer, but my silence must’ve told her enough.

She walked closer, her footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor. “You’re not from here,” she said softly, though there was no judgment in her tone. “And you carry something… heavy. ”

My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to stay calm. “I’m just passing through.”

The oracle raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening. “Perhaps. But you’re not just any visitor, are you?”

I forced an innocuous smile. “I’m no one.”

Her gaze lingered on me, the intensity of it making me feel as though she could see right through the lie. She gestured to a small table near the back of the shop. “Sit. Have some tea with me.”

The sight of the runes sewn into her cloak caught my eye again. I’d seen them before. First, in a text Amanti had brought home—the one that had sent her to Vorinthia in the first place. And again in the book I’d borrowed from Duron’s collection. My heart slammed harder against my chest. I’d chosen correctly when I’d spotted this place.

I followed her over and took one of the empty chairs.

“The runes on your cloak—are you familiar with the Verdant?”

She shot me a knowing look before returning her attention to the tea she now poured. “I’m familiar.”

I leaned forward. “Do you know anything about their methods? The old magic?”

“I’ve heard of it.” She set a steaming mug before me and sat, not bothering with cream or sugar as she picked up her own and drank its bitter contents in gulps. It reminded me of Sonoma.

My chest ached, and I forced myself to sip my own too-hot tea, letting it scald away my grief.

“You have lost someone,” she said.

Her words—the bluntness of them—unbalanced me. Tea sloshed at the edges of my cup as I set it down hard.

“I am looking for one who knows the old ways of the Verdant,” I said, deciding to be blunt too. “Someone who can break a curse laced with ancient magic. ”

“You are looking for yourself.”

I scowled. If she was just going to talk in riddles, this would be a waste of my time. “Never mind.” Pushing my chair back, I started to rise.

The oracle’s eyes narrowed slightly. “She said you would come. But not so soon.”

I froze. “Who?”

“The Aine.”

My heart thudded. “Sonoma?”

“Amanti.”

My skin prickled at that. Amanti had come here? Had she lied about going to Vorinthia? “Do you know where she is now?” I asked.

“No.”

I swallowed my disappointment, but when I started to leave, the oracle snapped her finger and pointed at my chair. “Sit. I will speak to you of what you ask.”

Slowly, I sat again, watching the oracle warily.

“Heliconia,” she murmured as if tasting the name. “The dark queen who spreads her blight across the realms. You wish to defeat her.”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think the Verdant can help?”

“They were the last kingdom to walk Menryth before fae magic began to wane. Their power has never been matched since. I thought?—”

“You thought the Verdant’s magic would be a match for hers.”

“I hoped.”

“And do you know who the Verdant were? Where their power came from?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

The oracle studied me for a long moment. “The Verdant were once considered the balance between light and dark. Servants of the gods, some called them. And they ruled with the power bestowed by those gods. At that time, there was peace in all of Menryth. Then the moon split, and destruction came for them.”

“You’re talking about The Great War.”

“The changing tides brought more power-hungry creatures than the Verdant could handle. The Calidium queen was killed, and the fae that remained were driven out. For decades, they wandered, searching for sanctuary. During that time, the power bestowed on the land was reclaimed by those who had offered it, and the people’s power faded.”

“What does that have to do with Heliconia’s magic?”

“Maybe the question you should be asking is what it has to do with yours?”

“Me?” I blinked, my thoughts racing. Did this oracle know I had death magic? Did she realize what kind of power ran through my veins? And did I want to know what it was truly capable of? “Okay, what does it have to do with?—”

She lifted her brows. “What payment do you have for such valuable information?”

I gritted my teeth. “What do you want?”

She cocked her head as if considering. “A favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“One of my choosing in my hour of need.”

Unease crawled through me. It would be beyond reckless to agree, but it wasn’t like I had other options. Callan had promised to help me find answers, but instead, he’d shut me up in his drafty castle and distracted me with dresses and party plans. Rydian knew something, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to help me either. And Amanti wouldn’t have come here unless this oracle knew something.

“Fine,” I said quietly. “You have a deal. Now, tell me what you know. ”

The oracle held out her hand, palm up. “We’ll seal the bargain.”

Slowly, I placed my hand in hers, and she grabbed it tight, holding on as she whispered fervently in some language I didn’t know. Tingles shot up my arm, and I tried to pull away as they turned to pain. But she held on tighter than I would’ve thought possible for an aging fae.

Her whispered words came faster. The pain sharpened until I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Abruptly, she let me go.

I glared at her then glanced down at my arm, which still pulsed with the heat of magic. Ink appeared on my wrist, a strange symbol etching itself into my skin.

A tattoo.

Like the one I had on my neck.

I stared until the shape was complete, and I realized what it reminded me of. A Verdant rune like the ones on her cloak.

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“To become sharpened.”

I frowned, wondering whether it was a clue about the favor she’d ask of me one day. But there were more important questions to ask. “Tell me about my magic. Is it enough to stop her?”

She drained her tea then leaned back in her chair, her gaze far away. “As the Great War waged, gods of both the light and dark were drawn to Menryth. Each side desired the realm for themselves; to rule over it, to feed from it. To grow their own power using ours. They knew, if they battled for it, the realm might be destroyed in the process so they made a compromise. A treaty that kept the peace, however precarious. The terms of that treaty allowed these gods access to Menryth, which they used both for feeding and aiding their own efforts to sway the balance of power in their favor.”

“What would happen if the balance ever swayed too far?” I asked, my stomach curling with dread.

“The champion would lay claim to Menryth forever.”

Gods.

Heliconia had swayed the balance. Would Menryth be hers?

“What does that have to do with my magic?” I asked, throat dry at the thought of what Heliconia’s rule might bring to the realm.

“According to the treaty, the gods cannot engage in battle, so they chose a champion to do so.”

“How do you know I was chosen?” I couldn’t help the challenge in my tone. Even after all these years, part of me wanted her to be wrong—about all of it. But especially about me.

“You are marked.” Her gaze flicked to my throat. Where my mysterious tattoo was inked.

I lifted my hand and ran my fingers over the tiny black moon with three stars above it. “Do you know what it means?”

“Those symbols you wear represent blessings. And blood. It means you have great power inside you—the likes of which the realm hasn’t seen since before Vorinthia fell.”

Damn.

So much for being wrong. Okay then. “The gods you’re talking about…The Furiosities chose Heliconia? And the Fates chose me?”

“I can’t say which side you’ll fight for. That is up to you.”

I drew back at that. What could possibly ever make me fight for darkness?

“But you have already unlocked one of the three gifts imbued.”

I straightened. “Do you mean one of the Fates’ blessings? Do you know which one? ”

“ Makarios. ”

Even as she said the word, my tattoo tingled strangely. I brushed my fingers over it. “What does it mean?”

“It means life eternal in the old language.”

I stared at her, stunned. Life eternal? “Are you saying I’m immortal?”

“Do you not drink the elixir of eternal life into your veins?”

“I…”

Sonoma had called it death magic, but… my heightened senses. Enhanced strength. Was she saying that, every time I drank in a life force, I added to my own immortality? And that it had come from the Fates’ blessing over me rather than from my father?

The oracle tilted her head, noting my expression. “You look surprised. Does a warrior not need to be hard to kill?”

A warrior. The Fates had chosen me and gifted me with this blessing. But it wasn’t free. They’d given it in exchange for what I’d do for them. Who I’d kill. The three goddesses of light and peace and love had chosen me as their murderer.

“What if I don’t want to fight?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Then Heliconia will destroy us all.”

Before I could muster any more questions, she stood, her eyes drifting toward the door though they’d gone opaque white as if she were seeing something else entirely. “You need to go. It’s not safe for you here.”

I blinked, startled. “What do you see?”

“You’ve drawn attention,” the oracle said, her voice urgent now. “The male who followed you earlier—he will return, and he won’t be alone. Our time is up.”

I stood, my heart pounding again. “But I still have questions?—”

She shook her head, her silver braid swaying as she moved toward the door. “You’ll have your answers soon enough. But not here, not now. Go.”

I hesitated then nodded, pulling my cloak tighter around me. “Thank you.”

The oracle’s lips curved into a faint smile as she opened the door, the soft chime of the bell echoing in the silence. “Good luck, daughter of Hel.”

My breath caught in my throat. But before I could utter a word, she was shoving me outside and shutting the door behind me. I scanned the streets for any sign of the threats she’d mentioned, pulling my hood low as I started for the castle on the hill.

The oracle was right. I would have to get the rest of my answers later.

It was time to face Callan. And it was time to stop pretending I wasn’t Chosen.