Page 50 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ingrid’s following days were spent rotating between Raidinn’s room to train with Tyla, her own quarters to continue her studies of Ealis, and the royal stables to make sure Alkaleese was adapting.

Each was done with some level of discrepancy, of course, per Callinora’s instructions, avoiding any eye contact with passersby as she walked the castle halls.

It wasn’t dangerous to be seen, but being seen meant you were thought of.

And being thought of in a court such as Maradenn’s…

She kept to herself, barely had time to talk to Dean alone, barely had time for anything but training, studying, and, after her muscles and her mind had reached their limit, joining the rest of her friends up in Callinora’s chambers to further discuss their journey to the Occi Isles.

It was an odd sort of privacy in a building housing so many.

Often, Ingrid would stare out into the night-dark city and feel like the only Viator on Ealis.

It was a familiar feeling, but it never lasted.

The painful thought of those advisors being just a floor or two below would hit her, and she could almost feel them scheming ways to rid the city of her, as well as any ideas that could be construed as anti-Hydorian.

After their initial meeting in the throne room, King Nestor had sent word of his surrender to Makkar, as promised.

Callinora had met with her father during the drafting of the letter and made sure no mention of the world-walkers was included.

Even in his grievous state, he knew how his hospitality would look.

Meanwhile, the people of Maradenn stirred and whispered about what a surrender might mean, and what the future of their home might look like.

Would Makkar demand full allegiance? Would he expect the army, full of sons and daughters and mothers and fathers of Maradenn to join the crusade of Earth?

Rumors circulated throughout the city, causing panic, unrest, and disorder.

And the halls of the castle were just as riddled with gossip.

Tales were spun of Makkar making requests to visit Maradenn for a diplomatic meeting of rulers.

There was speculation that Maradenn would soon be a puppet state—the tyrant of Hydor installing one of his lackeys as regent.

Callinora even heard exaggerated tales of the king himself.

That he had been possessed by the Magus’ power.

That he had died days ago, and the male seen around the castle was a shifter who’d taken over his likeness.

The facts, however, were far less noteworthy. Carrier birds from Hydor and Maradenn’s Roke flyers—large birds of prey mounted by messengers or soldiers—had flown in and out of the city, marking the first extended communication between the kingdoms in nearly a century.

That was all. No coup. No possessions. No spells. No tyranny. Just your average surrender, a desperate bid for peace, and, of course… a secret plot to install Callinora on the throne as quickly as possible.

“We should move now,” Dean offered.

He was sitting at the dining table in Callinora’s bedroom, running his hands through his disheveled hair.

With each passing night, his urgency had increased.

He didn’t appear to be sleeping. Bags had formed under his bloodshot eyes, and he’d somehow lost weight in the short three days they’d been there.

Everyone around the table watched him with varying levels of concern as he spoke.

“Why risk this mission if the populace is already unhappy? We might wake up to Makkar and his generals walking freely in your castle. There must be like-minded Viator in your court. Ones that would support you as Queen.”

“There are a few,” Callinora said, plucking a piece of cheese from a butcher’s block and washing it down with that bright blue wine she so enjoyed.

“But the populace’s opinion only goes as far as the politicians pandering to them—you know this.

The vote among the high council, as it stood now, would be heavily in my father’s favor.

Second in line would be his head advisor, Ballius, easily the most conniving of all the conniving little snobs.

” Callinora extended her tongue out from her mouth, as if she’d swallowed a bug.

“Though I doubt he's got the balls to make a play just yet.”

Ingrid covered her mouth to hide a laugh, but on second thought, decided the room could use a little bit of humor, especially Dean.

She opened her mouth and let the laugh fly.

“Honestly, at a time like this, Ingrid?” Callinora asked.

“Sorry. I just didn’t know Viator knew the word balls .”

“And what else would we call them?”

Ingrid considered, “I don’t know, something fancier?” She looked to Dean, hoping for backup, or at the very least a smile, but found he was too preoccupied.

Just as the silence felt strange, Raidinn raised his hand. “I think—yeah, I’ve gotta jump in on this. I’m siding with Ingrid here.” He shook his head harshly. “A princess, saying that . I’m shocked and appalled, I must say. Proper ladies never use that word where I’m from.”

“We prefer bollocks .” Tyla delivered the joke dryly.

“Bollocks? Oh my, that is lovely!” Callinora clapped her hands. “ Bollocks . I might use that.” She looked around sneakily, like she’d be punished if any of her elders in court were listening in. “Bollocks,” she repeated softly. “Yes, it does have a ring to it.”

Dean scoffed, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “I think we’re a bad influence on you, Princess.”

“Watch it!” Tyla patted him lightly on the back. “Careful, we might think you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I am!” he protested. “I’m just, you know, making sure.”

Raidinn slammed his hand on the table, nearly knocking over the glass of wine he’d been sipping from. “Well quit it, mate! Loosen up. Can’t you see we’re talking about testicles with a bloody princess?! A real live princess!”

“Yes, riveting,” Dean grunted.

“That’s nothing,” Callinora mused. “My brother would’ve told you all sorts of stories about…

” She stopped, her mouth a tight line as if she’d surprised herself by broaching the topic.

“Let’s just say my parents were far more concerned about us adapting to polite society than they were about us taking over the kingdom.

We even had an ethics and etiquette instructor. ”

“I think I had one of those,” Raidinn said with a cock of his head.

“No, that was just a therapist, dear brother.” Tyla leaned close to the others, whispering. “Had a slight fixation with violence.”

“Fighting!” Raidinn added. “A fixation with fighting . Not violence. You make me sound mad.”

Tyla shrugged. “Well, you weren’t far off.”

“Oh shut up.” Raidinn looked to the princess. “Ignore her. You were saying? About your ethics teacher?”

“Her name was Lady Holgah,” Callinora said. “Whether that was her given name or her surname, I haven’t the slightest idea. Holgah. What a foul woman. Must’ve been half a century ago, but I can see her now so clearly.” She scrunched her nose. “Hard to forget, actually. And not in a pleasant way.”

Callinora plopped her feet up on the table, dreamily staring off into the distance.

“Nothing about her was pleasant, now that I think about it. My brother would spend every lesson trying to wipe that pinched, wolfish snarl off her face, but he never could, no matter how hard he tried. Got to a point where we thought she’d actually lost the use of her facial muscles in some freak accident. ”

Another drink, another swivel of that bulky blue ring on her index finger.

“So, of course, my brother and I made a game of it. We conjured up stories of how the accident happened. We’d write them all down, then we’d ask leading questions to see if we were on the right track.

Lady Holgah , we’d say, where did you grow up?

Lady Holgah, were there a lot of, I don’t know, poisonous coilfish in your village?

Or any witches with a grudge against you and all your kin? ”

She laughed to herself, then, noticing only Raidinn joined her, said, “Suppose it’s funnier if you know what a coilfish is.”

“I got the idea,” Dean contributed.

“I’ll take that! If Dean the Uproarious thinks it’s funny, then I’ve done my job.”

All but Ingrid erupted into laughter.

“Hey! Take it easy,” Ingrid said. “He’s trying.”

“Thank you,” Dean said. “I really am.” He paused, placing a hand over his forehead. “It’s this damn brain of mine. Won’t leave me alone.”

“We know,” Ingrid said.

“We love you for it,” Tyla injected. “Most of the time.”

“My sweet, tortured, young master Dean,” Callinora said, slumping in her seat.

“Young master?” Raidinn placed a hand on Dean’s back and pounded it like a drum. “I like that,” he said, looking to the princess. “Is that an official rank here?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Callinora finished the last sip of her drink and immediately fetched more from the decanter.

“But it should be! Maybe that’ll be the first thing my husband and I change.

Install a new title. Young Master. Or I suppose Master would do fine.

I’ll take counsel with him when he’s home. ”

She said it with such certainty that Dean couldn’t help himself. “Or you could…” He softened his voice. “Just do it yourself.”

The others grunted as if he’d shut down the party entirely.

“Sorry! Sorry. I warned you.” Dean pressed a palm to his temple. “It won’t stop.”

“Perfectly fine,” Callinora said. “You are diligent! And you are passionate! Do not apologize for that. My husband is similar in his pursuits. It’s one of the reasons I married him.”

Ingrid stirred at that, putting her elbows on the table and leaning toward the Princess. “I just realized… I never asked how you two met.”

“Yes, do tell.” Tyla inched closer.

“Subtle,” Raidinn said, then cupped his hand over his mouth to speak directly to Callinora. “Tyla’s been dying to ask.”

“No I haven’t!”