Page 2 of Oracle's Reign
“Was she one of the oracles?” Peroen asked.
Qilar nodded. “Yslie. Not the one I would have expected to seek you out ahead of the others.”
“She didn’t. She was looking for Pianti. She gave the impression she had no idea who I was, though I suppose it could have been an act.”
“What do your instincts tell you?”
Peroen thought it over. He had been too enthralled to evaluate her critically, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say he had been deluded by her beauty. That first shock had been purely physical, but that included how she held herself, the naturalness of her expression. And when she spoke, his impression of her had gained depth—and stayed favorable. Yslie hadn’t dismissed his passion or tried to stroke his ego. She had simply spoken of the importance of finding joy in life. Peroen felt confident when he answered, “It wasn’t an act.”
Another nod. “If she is acting, she is excellent, but I agree.”
Peroen inhaled deeply, then slowly let the breath out. While he’d like nothing more than to stay in this back room and forget that there were still three more oracles for him to meet, he knew he couldn’t do that. “I assume it is time for the grand entrance Pianti has planned for me?”
He’d get through the evening. Conversing with Yslie hadn’t been painful—far from it. With any luck, his introductions to therest of the oracles would go as smoothly. And even if they didn’t, he would get to talk to Yslie once more. He wondered how she’d react when she learned his identity.
Qilar eyed him critically. Until the revolution, he had served as the Emperor’s bodyguard. He was, in fact, Peroen’s uncle, though that connection had never been acknowledged. Peroen had spent more time with him in the past week, preparing for the oracles’ arrival, than in all the previous years put together. Nevertheless, Qilar would have watched Peroen on the fringes of the court during those years. No sliver of tension would slip past him, and Peroen had far more than a sliver. After a brief, but thorough, inspection, Qilar crossed his arms. “This isn’t Envaho’s court.”
“I know.” Peroen took a deep breath. Tonight felt much like the evenings when he had to attend court functions, but Qilar and Pianti were no longer a part of that court—where no one would dare use the Emperor’s name for fear of giving offense. They had shifted their focus to the Assembly at the very dawn of the revolution.
They were committed to entrenching the new political body into the government of Pynth and recognized what Peroen’s father didn’t—that the imperial throne lost more power with each month that passed. Peroen’s marriage was a symbol of that transition, a concession made to allow the Emperor to keep his title, while trying to right the wrongs perpetrated by the imperial family for generations.
An oracle as an empress, that was the term of the deal reached when the people rose up against the Emperor. Peroen was merely the conduit through which that future would pass. He had expected to be married off within weeks of the revolution, but there had been too many other pieces to put into place first. It had taken over a year for the Assembly to reach a state where they were ready to follow up, and then anotherfew months to arrange everything in a manner that satisfied the majority.
Qilar continued to study Peroen, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you truly understand what it means that you are no longer at court? Envaho’s shadow won’t reach us tonight.”
“I know,” Peroen repeated. “The Assembly has the power.”
Not that any members of the Assembly would be present. But apart from Peroen and the oracles, everyone would be tied to that body, not the court.
“No,” Qilar corrected. “You have the power tonight. You are the prince, and tonight, here, that means something. Do not diminish your own importance.”
Peroen had never had any importance to diminish. Which he supposed was the type of thinking Qilar was warning him against. It didn’t matter what his father or the court thought of him. The Assembly had given him a voice. He couldn’t hide. He couldn’t cower.
He squared his shoulders. “I’ll do my best.”
Qilar said nothing else, merely gesturing for Peroen to follow, but he didn’t mind. That his uncle had said anything at all was a wonder.
???
Yslie hurried upstairsto her bedroom, hoping she wouldn’t be in trouble for wandering around. She wanted to talk to someone about the man she had met, but she couldn’t confide in the other oracles. For a moment, she wished she were back home, but nothing would be better there. She’d still be isolated.
At least in Pianti’s home, Yslie had a few material comforts to offset the emotional pains. A few days in the city, and she knew she’d never look at her home village the same way. She wondered how much more opulent the palace would be when she moved in there. Would it cross the line into too much, orwould it spoil her and make everything she faced afterward feel that much duller?
Yslie suspected she wouldn’t grow as attached to the palace as she already felt for her calm room here. Pianti and Qilar had only a few servants, and even tonight’s gathering, with the imperial prince as the guest of honor, would be intimate. From what Yslie had heard, the palace hosted feasts, parties, and dozens of courtiers on a nightly basis.
She had to remember that she had stepped into a foreign world. One that ran on appearances and connections. Even a small event like tonight’s required careful choreography. If she had taken the time to think it through, Yslie would have realized that Pianti was too busy with the handful of guests attending tonight to answer foolish questions about the prince’s interests. At least the man hadn’t laughed when she asked about the prince’s favorite color. Though she hadn’t stayed long enough to hear what his answer would be, either.
She wondered which of the guests Pianti had invited he was. There were supposed to be a few men attending this evening in order to lighten the social load placed on the prince. Or more accurately, to keep the other oracles entertained while the prince spoke with each individually.
Worry about that scheduled private conversation had pushed Yslie out of her room early. Her ability to put people at ease and encourage them to talk about themselves was the one advantage she had over Triese, an oracle from her home village. But she still didn’t know a single personal fact about the prince to start that conversation.
Yslie flopped onto the cushions in her room and admitted the truth: she didn’t have any advantages over Triese. If the other woman had volunteered first, Yslie never would have had the courage to offer to travel to Kalitalo and meet the prince. After years of being overlooked and being judged not evensecond-best, but unworthy of notice, thanks to Triese’s presence, Yslie knew better than to compete.
She hadn’t seen marrying the prince as a competition, though. She’d never have expected to win his favor over anyone else. But she hadn’t been sure anyone else would even volunteer. Which had left her very aware of the duty she owed her people.
If there hadn’t been a revolution, then one oracle still would have been sent to serve the crown prince when he ascended the throne: her. The useless oracle who couldn’t even see the future, and therefore wouldn’t give the throne too much power. She had always been meant to be the sacrifice made to the imperial family this generation. She’d have gone to Kalitalo as a servant, not a bride, though everyone knew being a member of the Emperor’s Will was not servitude so much as slavery.
Even with the revolution, and the promise of a wedding, her people didn’t trust this new arrangement. Change was coming too quickly to Pynth for the oracles to see the future with any clarity, and so they trusted the lessons of the past. No one wanted to tie themselves to the imperial family in any way. However, the one stipulation for the prince’s future bride was that she had to go of her own free will. The elders among her people couldn’t force anyone.
