Oracle's Luck: Unraveled World Book 3 Page 8

  “And now I’m ready to go back. Do you want to give me directions, or should I wander aimlessly until I find it?”

  The centaur’s nose flared, and Vera felt a swell of pleasure at ruffling his feathers. Those people might call her a guest, but she was a captive. She knew it, and they knew it. And she was not going to pretend to otherwise.

  “I will show you the way.”

  She smiled with false sincerity. Yeah, didn’t think you’d want me wandering around on my own. “Lead on, Skipper.”

  His eyes took on a look of confusion at her nickname. The idiot didn’t know whether to be offended or not. Vera nearly smiled for real.

  “Hey sleeping beauty,” Vera said when Kale opened his eyes.

  “Why are you here?” He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the gravel and sat up straighter. Even with his equine half curled beneath him, he was as tall as her.

  “Playing nurse,” she answered.

  Kale remembered the state he’d been in earlier. “Sorry.”

  “What do you have to apologize for this time?”

  “Got shot. You had to deal with it.”

  She gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Seriously, it wasn’t a big deal. Although, do you know how awful it is to take out an arrow?”

  “It’s not as easy as people probably think.”

  “Plus, you bled all over the arrows so they were slippery, which didn’t help.”

  Blast. That had to have been awful. “Sorry.”

  “I swear if you say sorry again, I’m going to stick one of those arrows back in you.”

  He opened his mouth to apologize and then closed it.

  “Helping you, especially when it’s helping you not to die, is not a burden like you seem to think it is.”

  “Still,” he said. “I wish you didn’t need to.”

  “Yeah, well I wish I didn’t have to save you either, but only because seeing you like that freaked me out. So no more running into people’s arrows. Or swords—even pencils for that matter. I like you warm and breathing…mostly,” she teased.

  Kale smiled a little at that. He was supposed to be encouraging her anger, but he was honestly just glad she was there, where he could see her and feel the warmth radiating from her. For a while, he’d thought he’d lost her to that potion. She’d been a mindless robot, obeying everything they told her to do. Not to mention, he was too tired to start a fight. He blinked slowly. Before he realized what she was doing, Vera stepped in and kissed him gently on the lips. He flinched, eyes flying open.

  “Calm down,” she said. “You’re not in any shape to chase me down and have your way with me. I’m completely safe.”

  “I thought you were pissed at me.”

  “I am, but thinking you might die earlier scared me.”

  She started to step backward, but Kale wrapped an arm around her middle and tugged her against him. “I was scared for you too,” he admitted.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Sorry,” she repeated.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know.” She gave an impish smile. “I just thought I’d show you how annoying it is when someone won’t stop saying sorry, even though—”

  Kale silenced her with his lips. It was a bad idea, but at that moment, he didn’t care. He had to touch her. Her heart skipped a beat against his chest, and then she kissed him back. He kissed her desperately, with all the fear and need he’d bottled up. When he pulled away, there was a stray tear on her cheek.

  He brushed it away with his thumb. “It breaks me when I make you cry.”

  “Then don’t do it again.” Her cheek hitched with a slight smile.

  “I’m afraid it’s inevitable.”

  “Why? Because you’re a macho jerk, who wants to abandon me for my own good?”

  She wasn’t wrong about any of that except, “I don’t want to.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “What happens when the unnatural takes over?”

  “I won’t let it,” she replied. “Just like you wouldn’t let my siphon take over.” He opened his mouth to object, but she hurried to add, “At least give me some time to try. I pulled you back in the arena when you wanted to slaughter every last one of them.”

  He stilled. He would’ve killed at least a few before they took him down, if it hadn’t been for her. He looked into her eyes, knowing that she understood what he’d been prepared to do to them. There was no disgust or fear or pity. Just gentleness. Her whole broken heart accepted him with all his darkness.

  He flexed his arms around her. “Okay. I’ll stick around for a little while, and we’ll just see how it goes.” He kissed her chin. “Besides, I like doing this even more than I like ticking you off so you’ll stay away from me.”

  Vera glowered. “I’m not dumb. I knew what you were doing.” She looped her arms around his neck and rested a cheek against his hair.

  “Ever since I met you, I’ve been scared,” he volunteered. “I haven’t been so scared since I was a boy.”

  “Well, I’m scared pretty much all the time, which makes me a pro at it. I’ll teach you all my tricks.”

  “Like what?”

  “Chocolate, for one. And donuts. Ohhhh… Chocolate donuts.” Vera kissed the top of his head. “Crap. Now I’m hungry.”

  Kale’s shoulders shook with laughter.

  “Think they’ll send down any food?” she wondered aloud.

  “Not likely.”

  “I think you’re right.” Her features settled into familiar defiant lines. “I’ll just have to go hunt some down myself, then.”

  “You think it’s a good idea to wander around this place?” He wanted to suggest she lie low for the next couple of days until they could leave. He knew better than to try, though.

  “Are alchemists and centaurs immune to scorpion venom?” she asked.

  “Not that I’m aware of. It’ll make them violently ill at a minimum.”

  Vera waved a barbed tail. “Then I think it’s a fine idea.”

  Despite her bravado, Vera put away her scorpion. She didn’t need that kind of attention, and hopefully, it would be unnecessary anyway.

  “Any way we can get some food?” she asked the centaurs outside Kale’s cell.

  Nothing.

  “Want to point me in the direction of a cafeteria?”

  Still nothing.

  Vera rolled her eyes and climbed the dungeon steps. Her escorts waited in the hall. She repeated her questions and received similar results, so she made a quick decision to go right.

  A centaur cut her off. “That’s the wrong way.”

  “Oh look, you’re talking again.” She brushed her hair from her face. “So it’s the other way?”

  Silence.

  Well, one way to find out if that’s a yes or if I’m not allowed to go anywhere. She went left. No one moved to stop her this time. She’d only made it a few steps before the clatter of hooves followed her as expected, though. As long as she went in the right way, the centaur just followed. When she tried to take a wrong turn, he’d grab her and spin her the other direction.

  “Did no one ever teach you to use your words?” she asked the third time he turned her.

  He didn’t reply.

  “You could always just give me a ride,” she goaded.

  His face contorted like she’d just suggested they roast his dog for dinner…or whatever passed for pets in Acadia. Vera smirked. When she finally smelled food, she followed her nose the rest of the way. Before she walked through double doors, where she could see rows of empty tables, her escort steered her through a small side door into the kitchen. People were washing dishes and stirring pots. A few others were prepping dough and meats for what must be the next day’s meals. It looked like she’d missed the dinner rush. The centaur planted himself just inside the door and wouldn’t go farther.

  A few people scowled, including the old woman
from the dungeon. Vera was surprised to see her still up and going but thrilled too. It’s about time I get to start cashing in some good luck. Although, the woman was going to keel over if she wasn’t careful. A middle-aged woman, with red hair coiled on top of her head, dried her hands on her apron and came over. Vera tried not to stare at the woman’s freckles. Instead of being darker than her skin, they were lighter. Fortunately, Vera’s curiosity seemed to amuse the woman, who smiled even wider.

  “Take a seat,” said the redhead woman with a gentle lisp. “I’ll get you a plate.”

  “I need to take something to my friend too,” Vera told her.

  “I’ll pack up some things while you eat.” She tipped her head to consider Vera. “You’re probably hungry.”

  Vera couldn’t deny that. She hadn’t eaten anything except for a couple of sandwiches in as many days.

  “We’ll watch her,” the woman told Vera’s escort on her way past.

  Vera expected the centaur to ignore her, but he didn’t. He left and let the door fall closed between them. “Wow, I didn’t think he’d actually leave.”

  “He’s only out in the hallway. The heat from the ovens feels even warmer to him, so he’s glad for the cool air out there.” With a plate of what would pass for Sunday dinner back home, the woman approached. “The food’s not hot anymore, but I don’t figure you’ll care.”

  Vera didn’t. “Thank you…”

  “Red,” the woman supplied. “That’s what everyone calls me. You can too.”

  “Thanks, Red.” Vera dug in while the woman went about packing five times that amount of food into a bin. Red’s easy-going temperament was completely at odds with the vibes from the rest of the room. As that fact sunk in, Vera’s appetite wavered. A few glared outright. One man pounded a mound of dough with a wooden roller. Vera was certain he was picturing himself pounding her instead.

  “I’m sorry I barged into your space,” Vera started to stand so she could leave.

  “We were told to expect you when you got hungry,” assured Red.

  “Oh.” Vera glanced around the room.

  Red followed her attention and explained, “They think you were going to burn us all in our beds.”

  Vera’s mouth popped open. “I never would’ve done that.”

  “I know,” replied Red. “You don’t seem like the arsonist type. Your friend, however, I’m not so sure about.”

  “I never would’ve let him do anything like that either.” She thought about the storms her demas song called. “Even if he’d tried something like that, I could’ve stopped it.”

  “I do not doubt that.” Red sat in the chair across from her and said quietly, “It would be different if they knew you saved one of their own today.”

  “Umm.” Vera was certain the woman had her confused with someone else. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Didn’t you?” Red nodded at the elderly woman.

  Vera shook her head. “Oh that. I just helped her up the stairs.”

  “If you say so.” Red moved away to slice some more meat for Kale’s bin.

  There was a scuffle of people as a backdoor to the kitchen slid open, and a teenaged girl slipped inside. Vera froze. There was something achingly familiar about the girl. Not in how she looked, but how she felt—the girl was a siphon. As soon as she noticed Vera, the girl turned around to run, with the old woman on her heels. That must be the granddaughter she was helping.

  Red watched Vera curiously. “So you do sense magic,” she concluded.

  Vera looked around the kitchen warily. She’d swear some of the servants were clutching their rolling pins and knives a little closer.

  “Is that a bad thing?” Vera asked.

  “It’s a bad thing if you go and run your lips to the wrong person about Missy,” warned the old woman, who’d planted herself between Vera and the door the siphon girl had exited.

  “Who’s the wrong person?”

  A man with thin arms and disheveled hair answered, “Anyone.”

  “Don’t people already know about her?” There was no way they’d hidden the girl this long. She was at least sixteen years old.

  “Only the people who have helped raise her. And we would do anything to protect her,” said the man. His hand flexed around his butcher knife.

  “How have you been able to hide her so long?” asked Vera.

  “She’s not a monster,” someone protested.

  “Oh, hold up,” Vera said. “I don’t think she’s a monster. I was just surprised, that’s all. I thought all siphons were in Earth. Of course, I thought humans were too until today.”

  “You thought siphons stopped being born after the Unraveling?” asked Red.

  A few people snorted derisively at Vera’s apparent ignorance.

  “But no one talks about siphons,” said Vera pathetically, knowing she should’ve realized siphons were still being born across the world. It simply hadn’t occurred to her.

  “Siphon births are every realm’s dirty little secret,” explained Red. “In most places, they’re killed outright, along with every person in their family. Until their entire line is wiped out.”

  “Like it’s a plague that’s passed through blood,” said another woman.

  “Are there more siphons here?” asked Vera. “Or is Missy the only one?”

  “She’s probably a spy,” cried a young boy, who’d been scrubbing pots. “Sent to find out our secrets so we’re all put to death.”

  A couple of people took menacing steps toward Vera. She backed away to make sure she had room to run. Red stood calmly by, watching the whole scene play out.

  “I’m not a spy,” Vera said.

  “How do we know that’s the truth?”

  “No one will miss her if she disappears,” whispered someone loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Actually, a very angry man will miss me,” she informed them “And probably kill every one of you if anything happens to me.”

  “She lies to save her skin.”

  “She’s not lying,” piped up Red. “Her travel companion is an unnatural.”

  Vera cringed inside as everyone gasped.

  “Then how do we make sure she doesn’t inform on us?” one of the women asked Red.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” Vera assured. “The only reason I asked about how many siphons you were hiding is because I can help.”

  “By killing them?” spat a man.

  “No, by getting rid of their siphon,” she corrected.

  “No one has that ability.”

  “I do,” Vera insisted. “Siphons aren’t what people think they are.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I used to be one… Okay, technically my siphon still wakes up occasionally, but my situation is more complicated. Getting rid of Missy’s should be fairly easy, though.” In theory.

  “Will it hurt her?” asked Missy’s grandmother.

  “No,” Vera said firmly. “The worst that could happen is that her siphon would still be there. But she’d be like me and have other magic to camouflage it.” Vera shrugged. “It’s why the alchemists don’t realize what I am. My other magic hides my siphon.”

  “Then let’s go,” said the old woman.

  “First,” Vera said, “I have to know what her parents are and maybe her grandparents.”

  “Her parents are dead,” someone announced.

  “Her mother was human,” said Red.

  “Did her mother’s parents have magic?” Vera asked.

  The old woman frowned. “Of course not. She was human. The only way to be human is to have no magic in your veins.”

  “Oh…then you guys must be rare.” Vera tapped a finger on the counter. “What about her father?”

  “An alchemist.”

  “His parents?” she asked.

  “Both alchemists.”

  Vera frowned and started talking it out. “That can’t be right. If they were both alchemists, then Missy would have more alchemist blood than anyt
hing else. She’d be an alchemist or an alchemist half-breed at the very least. But she obviously has equal parts of two magics, because she’s a siphon. That means her dad has to be a half-breed—a pretty impressive one.”

  The room grew quiet.

  “What am I missing here?” she asked them.

  Red answered, “I think you’ve just shocked people by claiming that our king is an illegitimate half-breed.”

  Vera’s eyes widened. “Her dad’s the king? I thought Missy was a servant.”

  “She is a servant,” said Red.

  “She is also king’s daughter,” revealed the old woman to another chorus of gasps. “He refused to claim her. My son loved Missy’s mama and did not care that she carry king’s baby. Asked her to marry, and let him be Missy’s papa. She said yes. So he was.”

  Vera swallowed hard against the tightness in her throat. The old woman’s son must have been an awesome guy. “Any idea what other magic the king could have?”

  “His mother was always close with her guard,” said someone, who kept themselves hidden.

  Vera cut a face. “A centaur?”

  “You must understand appeal,” said the old woman, obviously referring to Kale.

  Vera wanted to explain that their situation was different. But maybe it wasn’t. One thing was certain, she didn’t have any room to judge the king’s mother.

  “Now you know. You help her.” Missy’s grandmother seemed satisfied.

  “As soon as I make friends with a centaur and an alchemist.” And get them to unlock my magics. That should be a fun conversation.

  “You cannot tell about Missy.” Her grandmother twisted the fabric of her apron between her hands.

  “I won’t,” Vera said. “They just have to be decent and not care about how much of a freak I am. Any recommendations?”

  “You are confusing,” said Missy’s grandmother.

  “Sorry.” Vera shook her head. “I have a lot of magics.”

  “Stolen magics,” someone blurted.

  “No, all mine,” Vera assured them. “Think of it like this: Instead of a half-breed, I’m a many-breed. Except, I can use all my different magics.”

  “Impossible.”

  Vera tugged at her magics, and the people scrambled back. There weren’t any mirrors, but Vera knew her eyes were demon-red, a horn sprouted from her forehead, a scorpion tail curled over her head, and she even showed off her gills. For good measure, she sent to their minds, When it comes to freaks, I’m the freakiest.