Page 51 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

“Oh yes you have!” He looked directly at the princes again. “She’s obsessed with those dreary Victorian romance novels. And your story, or what she’s heard of it, it’s like seeing one in real time. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Callinora, I swear—” Tyla had gone nearly pale, pressing her hand over her heart. “I wasn’t… I’m not?—”

“Oh shush. Do you want to hear the story or not?”

All four nodded, settling in.

“Right. To start, I should mention that when I was younger, the thought of marrying a sailor from a low-born family was absurd. I probably would’ve laughed you right out of the throne room.

” She turned her nose up and put on a snooty voice.

“ A poncy little princess , my mother used to call me. And I suppose I was, after all. That’s why she assigned me the duty of overseeing the docks in the first place.

Thought I’d sympathize with the working class. ”

Callinora flashed a debonair grin. “But instead, I fell in love with a male that challenged me so often I had to look at myself, for the first time, and ask what in Mother’s name I wanted out of life.

” The princess scoffed. “It was awful. At first, at least. Arryn and I practically loathed each other. He teased me like a schoolboy until I finally snapped. I actually hit him, if you can believe it.”

Dean slyly nodded at Ingrid, as if to say, I’m surprised she only hit him.

“The mark was still fresh on his face when Arryn first asked to court me. Or, well—he didn’t actually ask, he demanded I meet him for dinner later that night.

I was appalled. Didn’t speak to him for days.

” She took a moment to recall in detail, keeping the private parts to herself.

“But soon after that, as you’ve probably guessed, I gave in.

It only took two short encounters and a stolen night in a shabby inn to convince me to marry him.

That’s the kind of man he was. Too charming for his own good. ”

Dean leaned forward, listening intently.

“That’s the kind of King these people will rally behind.

A man who knows what he wants and will stop at nothing to get it.

He has gained a reputation in this court.

Only he has the true loyalty of the council.

The real council, that is. Not those rat advisors.

They fear him, love him, admire him.” She put her drinking glass down for the first time in hours, looking to Ingrid.

“You were right when you said that a king and queen united was an easier sell than an ambitious princess on her own. But it goes beyond that, my friend. This city has had many great rulers, many great kings and queens, but that throne has also seen many ambitious Viator swallowed whole by the weight of it. Some say it is Ido’s ghost, terrorizing those he doesn’t see fit to follow in his footsteps.

Others say it is Izadora guiding the way.

But those of us who don’t put faith in spirits…

we know better. This kingdom, these walls, the very bones of Maradenn, they all have a way of weeding out the weak, of elevating the strong.

And Arryn, he is the purest example. He was chosen.

It was no coincidence I fell in love with him.

It wasn’t luck that put him in this castle.

No. He is the key. He’s our last hope of salvaging this city. ”

As they filed out of Callinora’s chambers that night, Ingrid stopped Dean to ask if he wanted to talk privately. The signs of stress in him were clearly evident, but she could sense there was something more. Something he wasn’t sharing with the group.

“I’m just tired,” he said. He threw a glance over his shoulder, like someone familiar had brushed past him too quickly.

“You promise?” Ingrid asked.

“I promise.”

She hesitated to say more, staring sympathetically at the bags under his eyes.

For a moment, she considered forcing him to go back to her room with her.

If they could be alone, she thought, maybe she could help him, could soothe his mind, make sure he was at his best when the time came to sail off to the Isles.

If it was sleep that he needed, then he could rest on the daybed in her room.

That way, if a fit of restlessness stuck him, they could talk and talk until he finally felt like lying his head down again.

Before anything else could be said, however, Dean wrapped his arm around her, whispered a soft, “Goodnight, Ingrid,” and walked off toward his room.

She stood there a moment, shocked or maybe even hurt—she didn’t know. She didn’t want to think about it any longer. Watching him disappear into the darkness, she broke off in the opposite direction in a semi-haze.

At that late hour, she’d be free to walk where she wanted, and without fear of bumping into anyone who might take issue with her snooping.

Stealthily, she made her way down the spiral staircase, following the flickering light of the torches as she descended.

The path to her destination was only a rough estimate in her mind.

She remembered certain things, certain markers from when Callinora first led them through the castle, but in the days since, she hadn’t had the confidence or the time to really look for it.

Izadora’s statue.

Ever since first seeing it, she’d wanted to revisit it. Touch it, even, as long as no prying Maradenn eyes were around to witness. She wanted to see if the physical embrace of the ancient monument connected her in some way to her forebearer. Maybe even activate some of the power.

It was a stretch—sure. But something deep inside drove her, calling for her to seek it out anyway.

An icy wind blew through one of the many small balconies as she got to the floor of the throne room. A few strands of her hair tickled her face, and then again as she made her way through the door of the king’s meeting quarters.

She’d been there twice now. On arrival, and once more when Callinora asked her and her companions to attend another public event with the civilians of the city.

It'd been a short affair, but was quickly followed by the princess dragging them to a private nearby room in order to introduce them to the three soldiers set to accompany them on their journey.

Callinora was more than methodical in how often she was seen with the world-walkers, keeping the outings to a minimum, so Ingrid kept her intentions to venture out to herself.

She hadn’t asked to see the effigy, fearing it would seem silly, or that Callinora might figure out why Ingrid was so interested in the first Oracle.

That bit of information was still her most protected secret, something even her gracious host could not learn of.

Retracing the steps she’d first taken, Ingrid marched slowly down the hallways and around the winding corridors.

She came to a divergence, searching her memory before deciding to go left.

Things were becoming familiar. Although the chandeliers had been put out, she recognized each bit of decoration and each marble sculpture as she got closer.

She could feel it. The next turn was a hard right, and beyond that would be Izadora.

She smiled, shaking slightly with excitement as she walked.

“What are you doing here?”

Ingrid turned, chills spreading over her arms.

“Must I repeat myself?”

Dressed in a long, silk night robe, his wiry yellow hair unkempt and dangling over his ears, Ballius stood with condemnatory eyes.

He must’ve been driven from bed by his thoughts, out for a walk just like Ingrid was.

Now that he was standing there, she felt foolish for not thinking of it earlier, for allowing her issues with Dean to cloud her judgment.

The castle was huge, yes, but she was risking exactly this by walking out late at night.

The simple fact that she was alone and wandering was suspicious.

At least in the light of day, she could blend into the crowd, could use any number of excuses.

There was a reason Callinora had set strict ground rules.

“No need,” Ingrid answered him. “I can’t sleep.”

Ballius gave her a brief look that resembled empathy, as if he could relate, but then it was right back to his usual prissy self. “No one, especially not guests, should be pottering around the castle at this hour. Please, find your way back to bed.”

It wouldn’t do. Ingrid scoured her mind for an excuse, some way to be rid of him. Play it meek and ignorant? Perhaps tell him she was lost? Or try to scandalize him, tell him she was trying to find Dean’s room?

Finally, she stammered, “I’m… I’m lost, I think.”

“Oh,” Ballius sneered. “In that case, shall I escort you?”

“No,” she blurted. Then quickly added, in a soft, innocent tone, “I wouldn’t want to disturb you. I’ll find my way.”

“Are you sure?” He peered down the halls. “It can be quite hard to find your way in the dark. Please, let me?—"

“I’ll be fine.” The answer was too quick, too impatient.

Ballius seemed to grow roots where he stood. “Out of curiosity.” He looked to the path ahead, the direction Ingrid was heading. To Izadora, just around the corner. “Do you mean to continue down this way?”

Ingrid almost cursed. Why hadn’t she told him to piss off? Why had she panicked? What could this impish man do to her anyway? All she had to do was divert attention away from the statue, and she’d failed.

“I told you I’d be fine,” Ingrid said.

Ballius snapped backward, like he’d caught a whiff of something unpleasant.

“My, my, I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this hostility,” he said, feigning amusement.

“I was only looking out for my most cherished guest. You see, that way, it will take you in the opposite direction of where you seek.”

Ingrid didn’t react, didn’t so much as blink. “Then the scenic route it is.”

She stomped away angrily..

But Ballius stopped her, his hand gripping her just above the elbow.