Page 65 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

“Horrible business,” Lucilla said finally. “If it weren’t my duty, I’d avoid them entirely. Just, horrible business.”

“You said that already,” Monia said curtly.

“Well, some things need to be repeated,” Ingrid argued. “I’d have to agree with you, Lucilla. Killing is not my idea of sport. Far from it.” Twisting herself to be closer to the diminutive maid, she whispered, “Do many die?”

“Yes.” It was all Lucilla could muster.

“Then it is horrible.”

“More than that. Oh, so much more. It’s… it’s… well, there isn’t a word to describe it, I’m afraid.”

Although she did not know the female, Ingrid sensed it was not in Lucilla’s nature to be theatrical. Every word coming out of her mouth felt accurate.

“I’ll admit, it wasn’t all sunshine… before.

” Lucilla put great emphasis on the last word.

“Our King Horace was no peacemaker. His lust for battle was no secret. But the games, they were for sport. A game through and through. Some unfortunate ones died, yet, more than anything, it was an opportunity for poor young Viator to ascend the ranks and be dubbed a soldier. Entertainment with a purpose, and with honorable intent. Nothing like what it’s become.

” The wrinkles in her nose bunched. “Evil, that’s what is now. It’s evil.”

Monia cut in with an ill-fitting squawk, “Do you see the gladiator barracks, just there to the north?” She pointed to a brick square structure, connected to the arena by a thin tunnel where the fighters could be discreetly escorted to and from the field.

“I see it,” Ingrid nodded.

Monia seemed half-excited and half-appalled. “That’s where she keeps him. Where he’s shackled. That’s?—”

“We mustn’t go there,” Lucilla demanded, more out of instinct, it seemed, than a desire to protect the secret.

“Why can’t I tell her? Aren’t you sick of being the only one who knows? Who’s going to believe her anyway?” She looked to Ingrid. “I don’t mean any offense.”

“It’s fine, none taken,” Ingrid said. Though inside, she was ecstatic. These females were not just unhappy with the state of the court since Enitha had taken over the reins, they were concerned about the direction their beloved city was heading.

It was a much-needed stroke of luck.

“We should tell her. Go on, Lucilla.”

Lucilla only gave a sad shrug. “No, you tell it, child. If it pleases you, you tell her.”

Before Ingrid could turn, Monia grabbed her by the arm and led her away from the balcony and further into the castle, where prying eyes could not see, and any eavesdroppers on the level below could not hear. Lucilla followed close behind.

“King Horace,” Monia said. “After Enitha overthrew him, she cursed him. In the barracks that I showed you. There’s a dungeon below.”

Ingrid couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “He’s being kept as a slave? The former king? He’s fighting in the games?”

“Yes,” Monia looked wide-eyed to Lucilla for confirmation, and the pale maiden nodded severely.

“Cursed to kill the people he loved and protected,” Lucilla said, voice breaking. “Cursed to do it week after week.”

Monia nudged Ingrid, whispering again like a girl passing notes to a new friend, “Cursed to be hideous, too.”

“Oh?’ Ingrid mouthed.

“Beyond what you can imagine. He’s?—"

“My hope,” Lucilla interrupted. She had heard Monia’s snide whisper concerning her former king’s appearance, but did not attempt to scold her for it.

If anything, the mention of his so-called “curse” seemed to bring her some peace.

“My hope is that, being in that body, it might make him unaware. That becoming that thing has erased any memory he had of what it was like to be King Horace. What it was like to be Viator.”

Monia put a hand on Lucilla’s shoulder, as a mother might when comforting a daughter who’d seen a monster under her bed. “I’m sure he doesn’t know. Sure of it. You can see it in his eyes. When he’s fighting. That thing only knows how to kill. Nothing less. Nothing more.”

Still cautious, Ingrid only stared back out at the stone temple city. She narrowed in on the barracks Monia had pointed out, where King Horace now resided, cursed to live out his days as something more animal than Viator. Unaware of who he was, or that he still had a claim to the throne… but alive.

She had so many questions. So many things she needed to say.

None more pressing than: how powerful was Enitha to be able to cast such a spell?

The question Dean had posed on the ship had been answered now—she was in fact a skilled Magus.

But in all her research, Ingrid hadn’t read anything about curses turning Viator into monsters.

It sent shivers down her neck just thinking about it. That kind of power. That kind of dark magic being so close to her friends.

“Sorry,” Ingrid said with a sudden urgency. “I shouldn’t have prodded. I think it’s best we forget this now. Would you kindly lead me to the ball?” Feeling self-conscious, she added with a joking smile. “I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this gown.”

Lucilla dabbed at her eyes where the tears had welled stubbornly.

“The fault lies with me, my lady. How silly of me, running my mouth. None outside the castle know of this. I only… I felt I could trust you.” She whipped her head up, meeting Ingrid’s eyes and flashing a pitiful, but heart-warming look. “Can I? Trust you, I mean?”

Ingrid moved closer, brazenly taking her hand. “You can.”

“Same here,” Monia snorted. “If you care. You can trust me, too.”

Lucilla slumped her shoulders forward. “I trust you to drive me batty, girl. And that’s all.

” She straightened her dress out with the palms of her hands, taking a deep breath.

“Now, we shouldn’t delay any longer. We don’t want our fine lady here to be late for the ball.

Enitha wants her new friends front and center. Right at her side.”

As close to her as possible, within spitting distance of that mysterious power of hers.

Ingrid’s chills still hadn’t dissipated.

The vastness of the unending dangers opened up like a great maw before her, threatening to swallow her and her friends whole.