Page 5 of Oracle's Reign
Two
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Yslie had changed. Not her clothes, but her entire demeanor was different from when she had opened the door to that back room. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and her lips stayed pressed closed under her veil.
He wondered if he had changed in her eyes, too.
He was trying to live up to Pianti’s expectations. Trying to internalize Qilar’s advice to remember that he was important. Pianti had certainly set the scene to highlight his rank. She had him playing emperor of this courtyard, seated where he could overlook everyone, and everyone could watch him.
He felt like an imposter.
“The city is so exciting,” Triese announced, and he realized he had been staring at Yslie for too long.
He shifted his attention to Triese. She had similar coloring to Yslie, though her hair was a flat black and her eyes a shade of brown that he had seen a hundred times before. The jewel tones she wore flattered her, but Peroen couldn’t help but compare them to the pastels Yslie wore and feel they were too loud. Everything about Triese demanded attention, which only reminded him of the court.
She continued talking, gesturing at herself as she did. “Why, the lace on this tunic comes from all the way across the Storm Barrier.”
Peroen glanced at the trim on her tunic, as he knew he was supposed to. The lace had an intricate pattern he hadn’t seen before, its cobwebby texture a sure sign that it hadn’t been made in Pynth.
“Exquisite. I’m glad to hear our markets don’t disappoint.” Was he supposed to pretend he had influence over such things? Was that what being important meant, taking credit for things he had no say in? No. Peroen wouldn’t lie. “I hope the Assembly furthers our trade agreements with the countries across the Storm Barrier once domestic matters are a little more settled.”
The fourth oracle, who hadn’t said a single word yet, suddenly went rigid. Her hair was the same shade as the teak table in front of them, pulled back in a braid that made the lines of her face almost harsh. Or perhaps that was simply the effect of the glare she leveled on Peroen. “I wonder if Auraelie would urge her foreign prince not to trade with us after everything she went through at imperial hands.”
The look she gave him ought to have incinerated him on the spot. Thank the stars she was an oracle and not a fire sprite. He didn’t know how to respond, but a quick look at Pianti told him not to say anything. Her lips had thinned slightly behind her veil, though they hadn’t lost their gentle upward curve. She leaned forward, angling herself to look at Sophenie. “Prince Sebin was instrumental in establishing our new Assembly. Neither he nor Auraelie would hold the actions of the Emperor against the people of Pynth as a whole.”
“He only stepped in to negotiate between the revolutionaries and the Emperor because he was present, partaking in the Emperor’s excesses himself.”
The ground trembled beneath them. Everyone turned, noticing Heolin’s approach for the first time. The earth sprite—the former ambassador for the magical races in the imperial court and a principal figure from the revolution—hadbeen entrusted with finding oracles willing to marry Peroen specifically because he was friends with Auraelie. She had made him promise that no oracle would be forced into a political marriage.
Another burst of earth magic brought him to Sophenie’s side in a single stride. “Were you present as we planned our strategy? Were you a part of the revolution yourself?”
The outspoken oracle gulped, but didn’t back down. “The Elders of Opiesa said—”
“Your Elders used their visions as an excuse to ignore the unjustness of the Imperial-Oracle Treaty for centuries. They did nothing, waiting for Prince Sebin to save Auraelie and all future oracles himself.” Heolin closed his eyes and the faint tremors finally stopped. After several heartbeats, he looked at Sophenie again, his expression schooled into careful mildness. “I hope, for your sake, that you do not plan to follow in their footsteps if you become empress, Sophenie. You would do well to learn from the past and act in the present rather than only obsessing over the future.”
“I don’t... I didn’t...” Sophenie bowed her head. “I apologize, Heolin. I was not there, and there are no written accounts of what happened from the people who were for me to study. I should not make assumptions without any evidence.”
She rose and walked away, directly out of the courtyard without sparing Peroen a second glance. He put her out of his mind for the moment, needing to focus on the oracles still present. He’d have to consider whether her outburst meant he could disregard her completely later. For all he knew, the others would have even more prejudices against his family—for which he wouldn’t blame them.
Heolin watched Sophenie’s exit for a moment, then turned back to the group. He exchanged a glance with Pianti, and at her nod turned to the two women on her right. “Triese and Yslie, mycousin wanted to speak to you about the forests around Garaea. Allow me to introduce you.”
Triese pouted as she followed Heolin away, which Peroen noticed because she blocked his view of Yslie. Only Pianti’s delicate clearing of her throat reminded him that one oracle still remained by him.
Dressed in a pale pink that complemented her darker complexion without washing her out, Odela projected an air of innocence that he instinctively knew was a front. If she had met him in the back room earlier, even if she had said the same words as Yslie had, he’d have known her appearance was no accident but a ploy to make a good impression on him.
Her blush when Pianti left them alone was too perfect, her downcast eyes not obscuring the glitter of avarice in their depths. She’d pretend demureness because she thought it would get her what she wanted.
At least Peroen could recognize the scheming. He’d chat with her until Pianti arranged her departure, but wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking he had met the real her. Meanwhile, he’d hope that Yslie wouldn’t hide behind a facade of formal politeness when it was her turn to talk with him, and she’d once more be the woman who had been delighted to learn he was an artist, not a prince.
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Because the introductionto Heolin’s cousin had been nothing more than an excuse to give Odela time alone with the prince, Yslie soon found herself drifting through the courtyard alone. It was the perfect opportunity to relive every moment of her conversation in the back room. Thanks to her power—Yslie was the most useless sort of oracle, one who saw the past rather than the future—she didn’t even have to rely on mundane memory. No, she got to see every humiliating instant in complete detail.
She’d be lucky if she overcame her embarrassment enough to say a single sensible thing to the prince before he married whichever of the other oracles caught his eye. She had always known her chances of being his choice were slim. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try, but if it hadn’t been for the likelihood of Triese becoming empress, she wouldn’t have cared about failing. But now... now she cared. Now she had motivation beyond protecting Pynth from a selfish empress.
She liked the prince.
She had expected... well, she had expected him to be a male version of Triese, truth be told. Not a man who apologized when she barged in on him. Not a man who asked what she loved. Yslie wasn’t sure anyone had ever bothered to ask what she liked before, let alone loved.
