Page 52 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

“Honestly, girl,” he said, his voice a strangled whisper. “Will you drop the charade?”

“There’s no?—”

“Yes, there is.”

He slid his hand up to her shoulder, dragging it over her back.

Ingrid almost leapt off the ground trying to shake him off. “Don’t touch me.”

“Now now,” Ballius crooned, “Why so combative, girl? You’re not in any trouble. What you’re doing isn’t a crime.” The corners of his mouth pulled into a sinister smirk. “No secret why a human would want to pay their respects to Izadora.”

“I’m not a human.” It was the first thing Ingrid could think of, surprisingly. A sign that things were truly and finally sinking in.

“Apologies,” Ballius corrected himself. “We true-born Viator do tend to mix the two up. Of course, you aren’t human. But your loyalty lies with them. With the people that Queen Izadora so valiantly saved.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do know. I told you, the charade is unnecessary.” He turned and, lacing his fingers over his chest, started into a slow stroll.

Ingrid almost believed that was the end of it. That he’d had his fun with the ignorant Earth-dweller, and now he would retire to his room. She thought he’d grown tired, or bored.

But then Ballius stopped. “Fortune shines on you tonight, world-walker. I will tell you the truth about the great Izadora.”

He walked on, all pomp and posturing. A fear stirred in Ingrid’s veins as she watched him.

His flowing robe had many hiding spots, and if he simply ducked behind one of the many corridors, he’d be able to strike when she was blind.

Then again, at that angle, keeping a few paces behind him, it occurred to her that she could be the one to attack first. Pounce on his back, strangle him until the breath left him permanently, then waltz back to bed like nothing happened.

When they turned the dark corner, however, all thoughts of violence seemed wholly wrong. For she was now looking at the face of a great advocate of peace. The Queen of the East, the first Oracle of Ealis. Izadora.

She was as stunning as Ingrid remembered.

Even in the dim lighting, her poise was undeniable.

Her crown of flowers and thorns acted as more of a halo than a diadem.

Ingrid allowed the fact that artists tended to glorify figures as important as Izadora, opting for beautiful icons over likeness, but her allure wasn’t the traditional sort.

It was her uniqueness, the complex combination of features that made her seem so immediately charming.

Even in this recreation, she was the most interesting, captivating, and otherworldly female Ingrid had ever seen.

Lifting one of the torches from its mount, Ballius walked to the stone slab that the statue sat atop, staring into the marble eyes. “Here she is. The great Oracle.”

“Big deal,” Ingrid muttered under her breath.

“Oh come now, world-walker. I thought we’d dropped the act?”

Ingrid didn’t answer.

“After all, you might learn something.” Ballius held the torch a little lower.

“I’m sure you are like most young Viator these days, believing the legend instead of searching for the truth.

Most think of Izadora as a great philosopher.

That her peaceful, altruistic thoughts were hers alone.

But they couldn’t be more wrong. Izadora never wrote down a word. ”

Ingrid strained not to roll her eyes.

How dumb did he think she was?

Emphasizing her shock to absurd levels, she said, “You mean… the book of Pax? Izadora didn’t… she didn’t write it!?”

“So you’ve come to our world prepared, have you?”

Ingrid shrugged. “Her followers wrote the book. Izadora didn’t linger on thoughts of the future beyond what her visions allowed her to see. She knew her story would be told. And so she let it be told by those who knew her.”

“Ahh,” Ballius pointed his index finger to the stone ceiling. “But do you know of the translations?”

Stumped, Ingrid could only remain still, non-reactive. She didn’t want to give the male the satisfaction.

“There were three versions, in total,” Ballius went on.

“As you must know, most of our western language is rooted in early Latin, back when humans and Viator travelled the worlds together.” There was a hint of distaste in his voice at the last word.

“However, as a result of the banishment and the subsequent war, many of your religious texts on Earth have been misinterpreted. Taking any mention of Ealis as a reference to the afterlife.”

Noticing Ingrid’s curiosity, he let out a self-satisfied hum.

“Lost in translation, yes. The humans who first discovered our world saw our immortal bloodlines, our living forests, our regenerative remedies, even our luminous sky as God-like. Ealis became synonymous with the afterlife. The stories warped over time, and their children and their children’s children took liberties with future recounting.

Unfortunately, our scholars and clerics were guilty of the same.

When the Book of Pax was translated and updated for the modern Viator, things were changed.

Altered and embellished. Which is why we’ve had so much conflict over it. Over both our great texts.”

A distant sound, maybe a door or a servant dropping one of the pewter laundry buckets, echoed behind them. Ingrid turned, seeing nothing.

“Did you read about the Great War?” Ballius asked, ignoring the disruption.

“Yes.” Ingrid met his pompous gaze. “Or, only in part. I couldn’t find the actual text, so I relied on other books.

Found them a little vague, to be honest.” She found them a little annoying as well, but she wouldn’t say that to him.

She only wanted him to keep talking. Whatever it was he wanted to tell her, as biased as it may be, it was still new information on the topic—something Callinora’s extensive library could offer her no more of.

“I’m afraid a full account won’t be found in The Book of Pax, either.” Ballius sighed, arrogance bloating his chest outward. “A true and total account, it can only be found in the conjoining of the old texts. You would have to read the Volmen Vericious as well.”

Or, Ingrid remembered in horror, as it’s known today, The Loquent Truth. It was Gannotar’s teachings. The first Magus, the King of the West. Izadora’s greatest enemy.

It was the same book that Makkar now followed.

“I thought they were forbidden in Maradenn?” Ingrid asked. The only bits she’d been able to hear about were from her friends, and what little she’d read from the torn parchment in Karis’s journal.

“Forbidden?” Ballius clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“No, no, not for scholars such as myself. Nothing is strictly forbidden for those of us who’ve dedicated our lives to academics.

I think the word you’re looking for is… disesteem .

Civilians or booksellers might be looked down upon, perhaps even questioned if they were to be found in possession of one.

But not prosecuted. Mother no! What you must think of us, dear girl! That would be simply barbaric.”

“Even now?” Ingrid asked, holding in her real inquiries. She stifled the flaming desire to leap at him, tackle him to the ground and drag him before Callinora for what he was hinting at. “Even when Makkar so blatantly uses the book to justify this war?”

“Even now, yes. You see, you’ve fallen victim to the same prejudice you accuse the other side of.

You have been told only half of the story, yet believe yourself to be wholly right.

Truth cannot be divided into two parts. From each side, you will find verity.

And only when the two sources come together, can Ealis be served justly. ”

He moved closer to Ingrid, holding the torch between them like a weapon. She did not move, barely even breathed, only bit her lip as she listened.

“Did you ever wonder why Izadora didn’t intervene immediately?

” Ballius asked, gesturing to the statue.

“You were told that she believed it to be the natural order of things, yes? But why, if she was so peaceful, did she sit back and watch so many humans and Viator die? Did you ever wonder, Ingrid?” Her name sounded so ugly coming from his mouth that she nearly flinched. “Have you thought about why?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Of course not.” He raised a single brow.

“Why would you? Anything else wouldn’t fit.

You never doubted her. Never questioned her.

Never made the connection sitting right in front of you, begging to be pieced together.

Izadora, my ignorant young friend, was just as terrified of the scourge as her enemy was.

She didn’t foresee some master plan. Nor did she choose peace above all.

She chose to sit back and watch her enemy do the dirty work, hoping the sickness would be cured. ”

Ingrid took a step back in disgust. “But she killed Gannotar. She ended the murder of humans.”

“Temporarily,” Ballius shot back. “Then another small crusade began. And another. And now we have King Makkar. Who, I’ll admit, may be suffering from some misinterpretations himself.

But, he is, after all, close to accomplishing something great.

Something no other ruler in the history of both our worlds has done before. ”

“Which is?” Ingrid’s lip had gone numb from chewing on it, biting back her rage.

“Total unification.” Ballius spat the words, then took two, three, and finally four small steps backward, vanishing into the darkness.

Ingrid’s throat swelled, sitting with the residue of the interaction for a moment.

She shuffled in every direction, guided by too many thoughts at once.

She wanted to tell the princess, yet now that it was so apparent to her, Ingrid realized Ballius’ intentions were probably plain for Callinora to see, and had been for some time.

Ballius and the other advisors wanted to end the war, wanted peace in Maradenn. Which meant surrendering to Makkar.

And it was hardly a leap to go from kneeling to openly sympathizing.

The rumors hadn’t been so outlandish, after all. Maybe Makkar had gotten his hooks into Maradenn. Ingrid just hadn’t let herself think that way. Hadn’t wanted to believe that her enemy was so close to full dominion.

A rush of urgency overcame her then. Heat spread in her cheeks, her ears, her palms.

Gently, careful of the ancient stone, Ingrid rested her fingers on the feet of the marble monument of Izadora, then repeated a sort of prayer that she’d come up with all her own.

Izadora, my name is Ingrid.

Apparently, I am the last of us.

I’m here to finish what you started.

I am Ingrid Lourdes, and I need your help.

There was no answer.