But it’s not my place to demand answers of another. Eris will tell me if she chooses to do so.
“Do we have a deal?”
The oracle snatches the vial from my hands. “We do.”
“Promise thrice,” I insist, relaxing only once she says the words.
Slipping the cork from the vial, the oracle dips her fingers inside, coating them in the shiny, silvery substance within. She licks it from her fingers, shivering in delight at the taste. A gasp escapes her. And then another, and she finally tips the entire vial to her lips and swallows it down.
I resist the urge to look away.
There’s something a little carnal about her response—as if she’s on the edge of pleasure. That forked tongue darts out, sliding inside the vial until she’s secured every last drop, and as I watch, she blooms before my eyes.
“A worthy memory,” she rasps, crushing the vial in her fist. “Ask your questions, little queen.”
“The Crown of Shadows was lost to mortal memory,” I tell her, knees flexing, so that if she so much as moves toward me, I’m ready to flee. “But you’re not mortal. And they say you remember everything.”
“Is that what you truly wish to ask?”
I ignore her. “I want to know where the Crown of Shadows is.”
A smile paints her curved lips. “Aye. I remember the fate of the world. I remember what these lands were like before you Bright Ones invaded from beyond the stars. I remember the trees, and the singing, and the way we danced in our Hallows and gave gift to the Old Ones there. And then your kind came and hunted the forests until we were forced to flee. They bound the power of the Hallows and killed half of our Old Ones. They—”
“Killed the Old Ones?” You cannot kill one of the Old Ones. You can only trap them. I thought that was why the Hallows were first bound—the only means the Alliance of Light had of locking them away.
“There were hundreds of our gods,” she murmurs, eyes glittering with rage as she watches me. “Only the most powerful survived and waged war on the invaders. Some of them were locked away. Others were killed. And a rare handful were forced to hide.”
As long as their people believe in them, the Old Ones do not die. Which means…. “Some of them still survive? Free?”
There’s a smile on her face. “That’s a secret for another day, little queen.”
“Why would you tell me this?” This kind of information could be dangerous in the wrong hands.
“Tell me,” she says, instead. “Why did you make a bargain with the Mother of Night?”
I see Thiago’s desperate face, his hands chained behind his back as my mother orders his execution. “Because I was desperate.”
“Your kind hate my kind. I don’t believe you.”
“Because I needed the power to break my mother’s curse.”
“Lie,” she whispers. “Or only half the truth. Not even the most desperate of fae kind would turn to the Old Ones for help. We are the enemy. We are the vile creatures that haunt the night. We are death and despair and ruin, according to your stories. You knew the cost would be high. You knew there had to be answers elsewhere. So why did you do it?”
I turn away, pacing to the edge of the swamp. A sleek black head bobs up through the murk, merciless black eyes locking on me, before the selkie vanishes into the waters again.
“Why treat with the enemy?” The oracle pushes. “You know the dangers. It is forbidden by all your people.”
My shoulders slump. “When I was a little girl, my childhood nurse used to read to me. There was a book. A collection of stories from the time of the wars. My mother had the book burned when she caught my nurse reading it to us, and she had nurse’s eyes plucked and her tongue removed, so she could never spread such lies again.”
“You sounded almost like your mother for a moment. The truth, Iskvien. From your lips.”
I turn back to her. “The truth lies on the lips of the victor, does it not? And my mother’s people wrote the history books. They burned the stories that didn’t speak their truth or paint the world the way they want us to see it. I’ve always wondered whether those tales Nanny Redwyne read to us are true. The Old Ones are powerful and dangerous, but they could be bargained with. The creatures that existed before the fae arrived were not evil, merely cruel and capricious. And if you kept your wits about you, there’s no reason the Old Ones couldn’t help you. I wanted to know what the truth was. I believed those stories. I thought I could trust her.”
“And the answer to that?”
“I made a mistake. Perhaps for once in her life, my mother spoke the truth.”
She sniffs the air. “I think I know why you made that bargain, Iskvien. You practically reek of old magic. I think I know why you were drawn to those stories. You could sense it, couldn’t you? You’ve always been drawn to the forest, the darker the better. You’ve always heard the whisper through the stones beneath your feet, the power banked in the ley lines. Blood calls to blood, little queen, and your blood has been whispering promises of power for years, hasn’t it?”
“The Mother of Night used me.”
“Aye,” she agrees. “She uses you. She wants freedom for her and her captured brethren. You have the promise of two powerful bloodlines within you. The world trembles beneath your feet—”
“I don’t want it.” My fists clench. “I don’t want this power.”
“You can’t run,” she merely tells me. “And you can’t hide. And you can’t lock it away. What now, little queen?”
Time to face your fears.
“Now I find the Crown of Shadows and give it to that bitch,” I tell her. “I will pay my dues. But she will have no more of me than that.”
The oracle cocks her head, considering me.
“We will
