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“Because of certain lines in them. For example, from the Goddess’s Prophecy, there is a line speaking of a white light filling the land. No Fae in Északi possesses magic of a white color, which means something in the future will have to happen to bring white magic to the continent. The Five Brothers speaks of seeking refuge in a distant land, and the Torn Veil speaks of our world dying. As you can see, none of those has come to pass yet, and it would take an enormous upheaval to make them happen. History tends to repeat itself, as I have said many times, therefore, they are likely to come to pass during times of immense change on our continent. Everything has been relatively peaceful in Északi for hundreds of years, and in the continents beyond for longer than that. The last great war wasbetween the Angels and Demons in Keleti. Even the skirmishes we had in Északi do not compare to that. No, there needs to be an event on that scale for these prophecies to come to pass.”
The teacher paused, all but one of his students’ eyes glazed over again. Placing the heavy leather-bound tome on his desk, he turned to the chalkboard behind him and began scribbling instructions on it. “Your summer reading will be these three prophecies, as well as an essay on the work of a seer from the Age of Prophecy. I will see you three at the end of the summer. Enjoy yourselves.”
The one with peridot eyes scratched down the assignment while the other two packed up their belongings and sprinted toward the door. “Have a nice summer, Professor!” they called over their shoulders, disappearing down the hall. The one they left behind heard their whooping cry as they burst into the sunshine. He took his time packing his belongings, gave their teacher a heartfelt thank you, and then followed his friends into the warm air.
“C’mon, Endre, it’s time to have fun!” the one with sage green eyes said, punching him in the arm.
“Your idea of fun and mine are a bit different, Viktor,” he replied.
The third one threw his arms over the shoulders of the other two, yanking them close to him. “We’re going to spend the whole summer at Este Castle. My father promised he’d be there the whole time instead of out looking for the lost princess.”
“Children! Come this way,” Endre’s mother called out to them.
“Mother, we’re not children anymore. We’re fourteen now,” Endre chided her as they traipsed through the garden toward the waiting female.
“You three have grown up so fast,” she said, eyes shining as she examined them. “Kazimir, your father wrote, and he said totell you he’s sorry that he won’t be at Este Castle to greet us, but that he will join us as soon as he’s able. Now come, I’ve made you some cookies to celebrate your break from lessons.”
The youngling’s arms dropped away from his friends’ shoulders, and he slumped inward on himself as he followed his friend’s mother inside their home – the place he had called home too often since his father was called away to search for the lost princess.
Endre bumped his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the floor. “I know you were looking forward to seeing him, Kazimir.”
“Yeah. Since mother died, all he can think about is the princess. I wish he would come home more. No offense meant, I like staying here with you, but sometimes I wish he’d be the one asking me how our lessons went at the end of the day,” Kazimir replied.
“Hopefully, he isn’t caught up too long with whatever is keeping him away.”
The emerald-eyed one offered a half shrug. “Hopefully.”
IV
44
Béke Day Twelve
“So what’s the lineup for tonight?” I asked Drazen, who held several sheets of paper in his hand, shuffling through them as he tried to find his place.
“A ballet, fire jugglers, another dance, dog trainers, someone telling jokes, a poetry read–”
“No poetry,” I cut Drazen off before he could finish. “Give them something for their time regardless, but there will be no poetry tonight.”
His ocean-blue eyes lifted from his papers, along with a raised brow. “May I ask why?”
“Because of what happened to Izidora,” I said, cracking my knuckles as the memory of her flashback in my tent during our trip between the Night and Iron Realms surfaced in my mind. “The last time she heard poetry, she lost touch with reality. She told me that her female keepers used to force her to recite it and punish her if she messed up.”
Drazen paled, though his eyes flamed with anger. “That’s so fucked up.”
I nodded, lifting my glass to my lips and relishing the burn of alcohol in my throat. “That isn’t even the worst of it. I forced her to tell me everything before I killed her guards. I wanted to feel every ounce of rage imaginable as I tortured them.”
Drazen blew out a breath. “I don’t blame you.”
“So, no poetry,” I emphasized.
“No poetry,” Drazen repeated. “Anything else I should screen out of here?”
“Anything with whips.” The scars across Izidora’s back were enough to make me consider banning them in the Iron Realm. It was unfortunate that they gave us such an advantage over other Fae.
Drazen scribbled something in the margin of his paper. “Alright, I think that’s it for me. Need anything before I go?”
“No, that will be all. Thanks, Drazen,” I said, downing the last of my drink and hissing out the burn.
