Page 84 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

“I—I don’t know.” Arryn looked to his wife, anguish burning inside his wild eyes. For the first time in a half-year, he was conscious, wholly himself.

Bending down to place his forehead to his wife’s, he stroked her cheek and removed a strand of hair that had strayed over her eyes. He stilled, seeming to finally calm himself, then suddenly sat upright. “Wait, there is something— was something.”

“What?” Dean asked excitedly. “What do you remember?”

Arryn looked about the ship. “Here, on this ship. There was a male. He was here. Right here with me. Though, he was unclear. Hard to see. I don’t know. All I know is that he helped me.”

“When you say he was unclear, what do you mean?” Dean asked. “Was he a Shade? A spirit?”

Arryn nodded deliberately, looking off into the distance. “Here. But… not here. I thought I saw him once, just as he was leaving. But then again, I couldn’t tell you the first thing about him. Only that he helped me. Somehow, he helped me find my way back.”

“He helped lift the curse?” Dean was now relentless in his inquisitions. “Is that what you mean? He was?—"

“Not now,” Tyla interjected. “Let’s worry about all of this tomorrow.” She looked to Arryn. “I think we should get you two below deck. I imagine you could use some rest.”

It was an ironic suggestion considering the look of her. Out of all of them, she had put down the most soldiers with her sword and bow. The evidence was all over her. Her tattered rags were covered in blood and her eyes drooped in exhaustion, holding something like regret.

With the help of her equally ichor-covered brother, she helped the dozy couple to their feet.

The twins carried the two royals down below to the cabins with easy steps, while the rest of the tortured crew began emerging from their hiding places and getting back to work.

With the wind still blowing against them, they didn’t have the luxury of honoring the men they’d lost.

Ingrid felt for them. They’d been even less prepared for this than she was. After all this, it wouldn’t surprise her if they never wanted to see her or her team again.

She watched them a moment, then Dean appeared at her side.

“Don’t ask,” she said with a smirk. Now that they were alone, she didn’t need her foresight powers to know he was going to ask if she was alright. “I’m fine.”

He threw his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Yes, you were.”

“I mean of course I was,” Dean laughed. “But I hesitated. Which I think shows progress.”

“Eh…” Ingrid looked away from him.

“Can I ask something else, then?” Dean pushed. He wiped at his face, at whatever carnage and filth still lingered. “Can I ask what it felt like? Wielding all that power?”

Ingrid shrugged. “I’m not sure. I…” She considered it. “No, I don’t want to ruin it.”

It was beyond description. Beyond feeling. So Ingrid wouldn’t try to capture it with words. She could still feel it like a seedling in the deepest part of her, waiting to grow and to be nurtured, sculpted, and until she could figure out how to do that, she would let it alone.

Ingrid paced to the edge of the ship, peering over the wooden railing and into the deep darkness of the sea.

She knew Enitha was gone from that place, but she wasn’t sure if her limited power had destroyed her permanently.

That unmistakable energy of Ealis, of her magic, it had bombarded her with feelings and auras and threads of possibilities too jumbled to make sense of.

Her training had a long and arduous way to go, and she’d need to dive back into it as soon as possible.

All of her enemies… they knew her secret now. They’d be coming for her. They’d be coming for the Oracle.

She’d be hunted more than she’d ever been before.

Dean joined her side again at the rail of the ship. He fidgeted with a bit of dried blood on his hands, bobbing his head as if convincing himself of something.

Ingrid smiled at him. “You have another question, don’t you?” She could see it in his eyes.

Dean kept on nodding. “Did you feel someone, like Arryn said?” He looked to his feet, almost embarrassed by the question. “A spirit?”

“Yes,” Ingrid said simply. Because it was easier than explaining the truth of it. That she’d felt hundreds and hundreds of them behind her. Helping her. Guiding her. “I did.”

Dean didn’t look surprised. “Me too. During that first wave of your power coming out, I thought I saw Karis. Could’ve sworn he was behind you, like he was helping.

” He threw a hand up, batting at the air.

“But I never would’ve said so if Arryn hadn’t first. Hell, I could’ve been hallucinating.

I was probably hallucinating. I had to be… right?”

Ingrid placed her hand in his. “You weren’t,” she said, “I don’t know about Karis. I didn’t see him. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t here.”

She peered below deck, as if her eyes could burn holes through the wood and into the cabins—into the room where Arryn and Callinora were now resting.

“I never asked you,” she added, shuddering again at the memory of Callinora’s branding.

“Karis. When you found him. Was he marked? Were those symbols painted on his skin? The pictures you showed me, his weren’t included. ”

Dean seemed to shiver, a deathly coldness overtaking his face. “No. He wasn’t marked,” he said.

“Good.” She pulled him to her side.

And leaning in to one another, her head against his chest, his cheek nuzzled into her hair, they looked out at the horizon.